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Best Enemies
A Cosmos Without Doctor/Master Scarcely Bears Thinking About
Cliche Challenge: Hurt/Comfort 
25th-Feb-2009 03:13 pm
Doctor Who - Shalka!Doctor/Master
Title: Just For You
Author: okky_who
Summary: The Doctor receives a special sort of gift from the Master.
Cliche: Hurt/Comfort
Pairing: Shalka!Doctor/Master (in honor of the previously-posted news!)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Shameless smut, of the hurt/comfort variety, and, of course, the very dubious morality that is so essential to this pairing. Is this BDSM? Perhaps :)

The Doctor always maintained that this particular regeneration of his had the weakest immune system of any he had previously experienced. The Master never offered his opinion, merely fetching the Doctor cough suppressants or antibiotics or handkerchiefs whenever they were needed, without question or judgement. The Doctor, though he would never admit it, craved the security of being taken care of in this manner and never questioned the Master's somewhat unusual acquiescence. The relationship he had with the Master was intense, incomprehensible and ethically questionable, though the Doctor had stopped worrying about those descriptors long ago. He sometimes wondered what kind of person that made him.

He first became suspicious when, wracked with fever and shivering uncontrollably under the water in a shower he had just begun to wonder whether or not he should have taken, given the onset of dizziness that had just overcome him, he suddenly remembered in surprisingly vivid detail the expression on the Master's face earlier when they had eaten together, just after he had taken the first sip from his glass. The Master had smiled strangely, with something like triumph – perhaps pride? The Doctor had found it strange at the time, but had no context with which to pair it; soon conversation took them both, and he forgot.

It had been but a few hours since, and the Doctor knew he hadn't even left the TARDIS in something upwards of a week. His TARDIS may not have been in the best working order, but unsterile, she was not. The Doctor tried to concentrate on his knowledge of bacterial and viral infections and suddenly began to wonder how often had he gotten sick before the Master had joined him in the TARDIS. His thoughts were becoming more and more disjointed and difficult to grasp, however; his skin felt on fire, the inside of his throat raw and swollen, his head beginning to ache. When the Master found him, huddled in the bathtub, the water still pelting his hunched form, he was murmuring variations of “on purpose” and “your fault” and “I know you did this.” The Master turned off the water, smiling with just a hint of tooth.

“I wondered when you would discover my...shall we say, extracurricular activities?” The Doctor glared at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“I actually trusted you, you know,” the Doctor replied hoarsely. “I save you from the very jaws of death, make you a brand-new body and give you the run of my TARDIS and what do I receive in return but the results of some yet-unheard-of form of Munchausen syndrome by proxy-” The rest of the Doctor's outburst was lost in a coughing fit. The Master watched him with a satisfied smile until the coughing had subsided, then began carefully helping the Doctor out of the tub and into a towel.

“You can't say that you haven't been enjoying it,” the Master commented as he dried the Doctor's hair. “I've known you for a very long time, dear Doctor.” The Doctor considered this as the Master helped him down the hall to their bedroom, and could come up with no response until he was tucked into bed with a cold compress on his forehead and the cold trails of the Master's fingertips still tingling on his skin.

“Stay with me?” he admitted, voice rough, and the Master nodded.

“I feel this virus is my personal masterpiece,” the Master remarked conversationally, laying the back of his hand against the Doctor's cheeks, the sides of his neck. “It's taken me a very long time to engineer this illness so exactly, so superbly...” his eyes were very bright, and the Doctor suddenly felt flushed. “I made it specifically for you.”

The Master's hand had moved to his chest, still rubbing light circles, and the Doctor was suddenly aware of how hot and oversensitive his skin was and how thoroughly the Master's touch was affecting him. The Master's fingertips, inadvertently or not, brushed over a nipple, and the Doctor felt it in a deep throb to his groin. “Master...” he sighed, swallowing heavily.

“You must rest for a little while,” the Master said, withdrawing his hand and the no-longer-cold compress and securely tucking the Doctor in. “I will be back shortly to check up on you.”

Once the Master had closed the door the Doctor deliriously let one hand slide down his belly to wrap around his stiff cock. He gave himself a few slow strokes and ceased, feeling dizzy and feverish. He rolled over, the sheets deliciously cool against his overheated skin.

The next thing he knew the Master was awakening him with a cold hand to his back, and he felt himself shift dizzyingly as the Master's weight sank into the bed.

“Doctor,” said the Master, his astonishingly cool hand making its way up the Doctor's spine to rest at the nape of his neck. “Doctor, I'm going to help you to sit up.”

The Doctor's world spun as the Master carefully rolled him over and lifted him up with the ease his android body allowed; the Doctor sprawled weakly against the pillows, still flushed with fever, hair damp with sweat.

“I would like to examine you,” said the Master, a nineteenth century Earth doctor's bag now resting in his lap. “I need to check the progress of the virus.” The Doctor felt a small thrill at the sound of the scientific glee in the Master's voice, and gasped a little at the first touch of the cold metal stethoscope to his chest. The Master listened to one heart and then the other, the Doctor watching him intently through half-lidded eyes. “Now,” continued the Master, pulling the Doctor against him and holding him steady with one arm around his shoulders. The Doctor couldn't help but give in to the slow ache of arousal as the Master held him close, moving the stethoscope from place to place on his back, listening intently. “We must make sure the infection doesn't spread to your lungs,” the Master said. “Though it was not designed to, it concerns me. This virus is, as of yet, untested on any living subject. We shall have to be careful.”

The Doctor nodded, and the Master let him rest against the pillows once more before pushing a thermometer under his tongue. “I'll need to monitor your temperature,” the Master continued, one cool hand coming to rest on the Doctor's brow. The Doctor felt he was being consumed in a slow fire that had ignited just beneath his skin, every nerve raw and aching, every touch of the Master's hands almost too much to bear. “I have several different courses of treatment available, depending on how, precisely, your body reacts.”

The Master soon removed the thermometer, smiling triumphantly as he studied it. “Just as I intended. What a good patient you are, Doctor.”

The Doctor somehow found himself flattered, and now the Master was looking at him with hooded eyes and the Doctor felt arousal definitively grip him, threading up through his stomach, pulsing heavily at his groin. The Master took a tongue depressor from his bag, and the Doctor let his head fall back, submitting entirely to the Master's inspection.

“Viral research and design is such an enthralling field,” the Master said as he studied the inner lining of the Doctor's throat. “I can't see why I never picked it up before.” The Doctor privately thought that any situation where the Master was allowed to play god would greatly appeal to him, and the image of the Master sitting alone in a laboratory delightedly tweaking and toying with the purpose and motivation of microscopic existence gave him a strange, fierce, warm feeling.

The Master removed the tongue depressor, nodding to himself as if scribbling down mental notes. “Good, good,” he mused, placing his bag upon the floor and turning his entire attention to the Doctor.

His eyes were dark and intimate, and the Doctor reached out to him with fingers that felt too weak to grip properly. The Master lay a hand just below his sternum, the usual unspoken question hanging between them, and the Doctor let out a shaky, aroused breath. The Master smiled.

“Tell me about your symptoms,” the Master instructed, an intensity to his voice that sent shivers all over the Doctor's skin. His fingertips were moving steadily down the Doctor's stomach, circling his navel.

“I'm too hot, all...over,” the Doctor began, a hitch of breath where the Master had dragged a fingertip along the underside of his cock.

“Yes?” the Master prompted, his hand closing around the Doctor's erection, squeezing gently, once, twice.

“My...throat,” the Doctor indicated, breath shaky and labored. “It's...sore.”

The Master nodded encouragingly. “Very good, and?”

“Dizziness,” continued the Doctor, passing a trembling hand across his forehead. “Slight...headache.”

The Master hummed in agreement, administering pressure with his thumb in an exceedingly agreeable way. The Doctor arched helplessly from the bed, and wondered if he might die.

“What would you like, my dear Doctor?” The Master quirked a sly half-smile, and the Doctor couldn't focus, couldn't put to words the desires that flooded his mind. He reached for the Master, pulling feebly at his jacket, and the Master laughed indulgently and pulled the Doctor close to him. After some arranging the Master sat against the headboard, the Doctor straddling his lap, feeling heavy and weak and boneless. He shuddered at the almost-unbearable friction of the Master's clothing against his bare skin, loving the feeling of being held so securely. The Master rocked against him, letting out a satisfied breath, and the Doctor realized that the Master was very much aroused.

“Oh Doctor,” said the Master, thrusting slowly against him, voice pleased. “I do like you like this.”

“I know you do,” the Doctor replied hoarsely, unable to keep the accusation from his voice. The Master just laughed.

“You think of yourself as being in charge of matters in this TARDIS,” the Master said softly in his ear, cheek breathtakingly cold against the Doctor's. “But we both know who is truly in control, don't we?”

The Doctor let out an irritated huff, but the Master was circling his entrance with a single, cold fingertip, and the Doctor shivered with arousal. Then the Master was shifting slightly, and the Doctor heard the drawer of his bedside table open, and soon the fingertip was back, now slick and pressing inside him.

“Tell me you want me to have you while you're like this. Tell me you want me to take you while you're weak and incapacitated.” The Master pushed in another finger, and another, pressing them expertly against the spot inside him that made the Doctor arch against him with a sharp intake of breath. “Tell me.”

“I...” The Doctor's head was swimming, his skin still burning with fever; he leaned his forehead feebly against the Master's shoulder, unable to catch his breath as the Master held his fingers exasperatingly still. “Yes, I do,” he answered finally, quietly, sounding a little bitter. The Master laughed again.

“Good, Doctor,” the Master almost growled, and the Doctor held tightly to him, gripping handfuls of his jacket as the Master positioned him with an arm around his hips, somehow managing to undo his own trousers and pushing in slowly, maddeningly...the Doctor made a noise of frustration, achingly hard, out-of-breath.

It was all the Doctor could do to just hang on as the Master began to fuck him, slowly at first, then harder and harder. The Doctor felt he was hovering on the edge of orgasm, his limbs shaky and useless, and despite himself he felt safe in the Master's hold, in his care.

“I did this to you,” the Master said in his ear, voice thick with desire. “Made you weak, made you vulnerable...” A deep shiver ran through the Doctor and the world was spinning, out of control, and he came, hard, letting out a hoarse cry, hands twisted in the Master's hair.

The Master thrust inside him for a few more moments, gripping him harder and harder, before coming as well. The two sat in silence for a short while, heartbeats slowing, the Master's hands stroking soothingly over the Doctor's shivering form.

After a while the Master lay him down, cleaned him off with a handkerchief from the dresser, and the Doctor wasn't sure he would ever be able to move again. The Master straightened his own clothing, zipped up his trousers, and covered the Doctor once again with a blanket.

“Now let's see about starting you on the proper course of treatment,” said the Master, looking entirely too pleased with himself, but the Doctor was too tired to be angry.

“Whatever you like,” the Doctor answered wearily, one hand over his eyes.
Comments 
25th-Feb-2009 08:47 pm (UTC)
I love you. Seriously, this gave me so much squee, because it's Shalka and it's awesomely written and - and bioengineering as BDSM practice! That's the imaginative stuff great sci-fi is made of, and it is also totally INSANE, which is so them.

Favourite bits:
“I actually trusted you, you know,” the Doctor replied hoarsely. “I save you from the very jaws of death, make you a brand-new body and give you the run of my TARDIS and what do I receive in return but the results of some yet-unheard-of form of Munchausen syndrome by proxy-”

and:
“Yes, I do,” he answered finally, quietly, sounding a little bitter.
He says it bitterly, but he says it! That one small nuance makes the difference between in-character and ooc for me, and it's just perfect.

Please write more Shalka if you can :)
25th-Feb-2009 09:24 pm (UTC)
Thank you so much! Your compliments mean a lot - I freaking adore your fics!

I've just been all over Shalka again lately, since pretty much my dream come true is the Doctor and Master teaming up, and any instance where that sort of thing happens makes me squee myself silly. :D (And, of course, finding out that Paul Cornell supports the pairing made me explode, just a bit.) There definitely needs to be more Shalka!fic; I'll see what I can do.

I'm so glad you like the fic! I'm very excited XD
25th-Feb-2009 09:24 pm (UTC)
It. Is. Fabulous. 'Course, you already knew I'd say that. I like this particular twist to the BDSM theme; it combines well with hurt/comfort. Also, the Master would totally get off on weak-and-sickly!Doctor (and I can see why-- wow >.>), especially knowing that he made it so.
25th-Feb-2009 09:41 pm (UTC)
Heehee, thank you. :D

The Master particularly enjoys any situation where he gets to exert power over the Doctor, hee. My favorite part of a situation where the Doctor and Master are traveling around together is that the Master would so show his affection in extremely skewed ways, and the Doctor would (albeit grudgingly) like it. I love the idea of that. Good times.
25th-Feb-2009 09:28 pm (UTC)
Mmm-mmm! I've only just discovered this pairing (finally saw Scream of the Shalka at the w/e) and have to say that it's my favourite next to Ten!Doctor/Simm!Master... so more would be good, yes.... :-) Oh, and thank you!
25th-Feb-2009 09:49 pm (UTC)
Thank you! :D This pairing might be my favorite Doctor/Master combination -- all the others are kind of mismatched in how much I like the Doctor and Master involved, individually. Well, I am quite fond of Five/Ainley!Master, but I'm rather partial to the two working together. :)
26th-Feb-2009 01:39 am (UTC)
Oh great fic, there's not enough Shalka fics around, so it's always good to see new ones, especially when they're as well written as this. I love how you made it so the Master still has a way of being in control, despite his circumstances, and using the Doctor's weakness from the virus as a form of BDSM. I also love how you've written the hurt/comfort too, with the Doctor's conflicting feelings of bitterness and desire. Which just leave me to say; please write more Shalka!fic :D
27th-Feb-2009 07:24 pm (UTC)
Thank you! I'll see what I can come up with in terms of more Shalka!fic.

I love how you made it so the Master still has a way of being in control, despite his circumstances

He so would. He would find a way to turn almost any situation around on the Doctor, and that is why I love him so. Hee.
26th-Feb-2009 04:18 am (UTC)
Oh I adored this - h/c the way the Doctor and the Master do it: fucked-up and with insane power struggles. A great twist on the cliche.

Also there should always be more Shalka fic, and I kind of hope that Cornell's admission inspires more.

(*needs a Shalka icon*)
27th-Feb-2009 07:26 pm (UTC)
I'm glad you like! :D

h/c the way the Doctor and the Master do it: fucked-up and with insane power struggles

Oh, I adore them.
26th-Feb-2009 07:53 am (UTC)
Evil, manipulative Shalka!Master. Gotta love him. Well done.
27th-Feb-2009 07:26 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much!
26th-Feb-2009 11:45 am (UTC)
“It's taken me a very long time to engineer this illness so exactly, so superbly...” his eyes were very bright, and the Doctor suddenly felt flushed. “I made it specifically for you.”

That's so... well, I don't suppose sweet is quite the right word, considering. Something like that, though. The whole idea is perfect. *beams*
27th-Feb-2009 07:31 pm (UTC)
well, I don't suppose sweet is quite the right word, considering. Something like that, though.

Yes, I know what you mean, haha. Gifts from the Master would always be well-meaning yet appalling, I think, and one would feel grateful but at the same time quite horrified. XD

I'm glad you like the fic!
26th-Feb-2009 09:17 pm (UTC)
shalka fic! and it's great. wonderful, nasty (and yet still oddly endearing) take on the cliché. i particularly like the doctor's opening moan about getting ill a lot in this body (because the doctor does moan and REG more than most) and the implication, therefore, that the master has sat quietly and mopped his brow in previous encounters. really great general feeling of weakness in the surrounding prose, also.
27th-Feb-2009 07:35 pm (UTC)
Thank you very much! :D

the implication, therefore, that the master has sat quietly and mopped his brow in previous encounters

And at the same time cackling madly inside, quietly biding his time for the Doctor to figure out what was going on. Eeheehee.
15th-Mar-2009 10:58 pm (UTC) - I do need a Shalka!icon, don't I?
I like this better every time I read it. The physicality of the illness and the sex is very well-expressed, the sonorous creepiness of the manipulation strikes delicious notes, and I enjoyed the voicing and characterization. Excellent challenge entry. I look forward to reading more of your stuff in future. :)
16th-Mar-2009 03:13 am (UTC)
Oh that was hot!
2nd-Dec-2009 03:23 am (UTC)
The opening and how things developed from there were different flavors.. both fantastic. Love these guys, and your true take on them.
21st-Mar-2010 12:43 am (UTC)
I love this so much!
21st-Mar-2010 05:02 am (UTC)
Whoo, that's hot. Seriously. I may have to take a cold shower.

I've never actually watched the Shalka, and if I ever do my interpretation of it is going to be seriously warped thanks to fics like this. I suspect it'll be better that way. :)

Thank you so much!
23rd-Mar-2010 04:45 am (UTC)
I've read this...at least 6 or 7 times. It's just- I don't know, but I really like it.
29th-Apr-2010 12:53 am (UTC)
I really like the Shalka pairing, especially since it's canon. And I like how the Master was going on about how he engineered his new virus just for the Doctor. It's the Master's twisted way of showing affection. I don't think anyone's done germ engineering as BDSM before, so good job with coming up with a new BDSM thing.
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