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Very slightly edited from the draft version posted to my flist.
Title: Blind (Master Plan - Part 9)
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
unfeathered
Pairing: Jack/The Master/Tenth Doctor
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: non-con, D/s, bondage, sensory deprivation, breathplay, telepathy
Word Count: 3,984
Spoilers: Mainly the end of Doctor Who Season 3
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Kinky threesome sex *g*
Author's Note: Written forbecky_writing's Guilty Pleasures Fest. This is part of the Master Plan 'verse, but it's from Jack's POV and hopefully can successfully be read as a stand-alone if desired.
Author's Note 2: If you haven't been reading Master Plan, you need to know that the Master has de-aged the Doctor, otherwise you might be seriously squicked by this story! *g* And 'that one time on the bridge' is described in Master Plan – Part 5.
Jack walks between his guards along the lower corridors of the Valiant. He's handcuffed and blindfolded. He's also naked and clean and prepared for sex. Out of all of that, it's the blindfold that bothers him the most. Mainly because it's really not helping him stop worrying about where he's being taken. The Master's always come to him before – except that one time on the bridge, but there was a reason for that. He supposes there's a reason for this too, but he doesn't know what. What's he being taken to?
A door opens and he's pushed through it, not roughly but hard enough that he stumbles over the threshold and finds himself alone with the door closing quietly behind him. He takes a moment to find his balance, toes curling deep into soft, luxurious carpet, then breathes deeply and focuses on listening.
Someone over there, ahead and to his left. And straight ahead of him, there's someone else – on a bed. It's creaking a little as they move.
So… the Master, obviously. And… presumably either Lucy or the Doctor. After the Christmas party, Jack's money’s on the Doctor. He sniffs again, but he's not familiar enough with this version of the Doctor to be able to tell for sure. It's definitely male, though, which makes it a pretty sure bet.
"Over here, please, Jack," the Master says, over to his left, and Jack turns towards him and obediently starts to walk. It's hard, blindfolded, each step a step into the unknown and he has to really concentrate. The Master guides him with sound – fabric rustling, a zipper being pulled down, more rustling and then the very faint noise of skin on skin – and finally tells him to stop. Jack stops, and sinks automatically to his knees.
There's a tiny, sharp intake of breath from the person on the bed. Oh, yeah, it's the Doctor. Jack waits for the protest, but it doesn't come, which worries him a little. But he doesn't have time to think about that too much before he feels the weight of a hand on his head. It strokes the hair that's not pulled flat under the strap of the blindfold – once, twice – before coming to rest at the back of his head. It applies gentle pressure, and Jack rocks forward, mouth opening.
The hand stays there while he sucks, giving him no leeway, and he's grateful. It's nice to be able to pretend that he's being coerced into this, that he's not in fact a pathetic slut who'll get hard and needy just from the thought of being mastered like this, let alone the fact of it. Occasionally, the Master doesn't let him pretend; makes him give rather than take, makes him really use all those skills he's picked up over the years. But mostly, it's like this. The Master does like to be in charge.
It's not long before he's being pressed closer and the Master starts to fuck his mouth. Jack shifts his weight so he can take the force of the thrusts and opens his throat so he can take the Master's cock. He tries very hard to ignore the fact that the whole thing – kneeling naked and chained with the Master's hand on the back of his head and the Master's cock fucking his throat – has got him hard and flushed and panting with arousal.
Not that it would be news to the Doctor, who must have a pretty good idea what the Master does to him in private, and who knows only too well how Jack reacts to being dominated. Not forgetting that time on the bridge when he got to see it at first hand.
It's certainly ironic. All that time waiting for the Doctor to come back into his life, and when he does, Jack ends up being dominated by his arch-enemy instead.
Or perhaps by both of them, today. The Doctor's on his way over.
The Master stills in Jack's mouth and he takes advantage of the chance to breathe properly. "He's perfect, isn't he, Doctor? Isn't he perfect?"
"'Course he is – I knew that long before you did," the Doctor says casually, and Jack stiffens instinctively as he feels the Doctor come to rest behind him – feet between his, legs against his back, cock bobbing against his hair. Bare, cool skin he hasn't felt in so very long. The Time Lords shift their weight and lean towards each other above his head. Jack hears them kissing, and shivers. He starts to wonder just how much of the Doctor's ease with the Master is acting and how much is genuine. He's not sure he could cope with the Doctor abandoning him again, not for the Master.
The Master seems to feel the shiver because he chuckles into the Doctor's mouth and his hand starts to stroke Jack's hair again. It's not that that makes Jack relax, though. It's feeling the Doctor's hand on his shoulder and the faint brush of the Doctor's mind against his. Too faint for actual words, just a gentle, calming presence, asking him to trust the Doctor. There's no reaction from the Master. Jack's fairly sure the Master can't get into his head, any more than Tosh could with that pendant. He'd be able to feel him, just as he can feel the Doctor now, soothing and reassuring him.
Jack relaxes. He probably shouldn't trust the Doctor so instinctively, not after the way he's been treated, but he does. He starts to suck again – hard – and gets a gratifying gasp from the Master. He smiles to himself. He might be the one who's naked and chained and on his knees, but he's not without power. However much he might like to pretend he's being forced into this – to ease his guilt about submitting to a mass-murdering megalomaniac – he knows he has a choice. It may not be much of a choice, but it's important and, in a way, comforting too. Because while he's doing this of his own free will, that means he still has free will, that the Master hasn't taken that away from him. And while he still has free will, the Master hasn't won.
And to be perfectly honest, he'd rather have it like this than with real coercion. He enjoys sex. If he's going to play 'distract the Master', he'd rather do this than be killed or tortured any day.
"Cocky little bugger, aren't you?" the Master murmurs above him, and Jack freezes, suddenly not so sure the Master can't read his mind. Then he realises it was his grin around the cock in his mouth that gave him away. The grin's gone now. The hand on his hair slips down to grip the back of his neck, fingers and thumb digging in hard behind his ears and yanking upwards so he's forced to scramble up to his feet. "Bed," the Master says tersely, turning him round and propelling him forwards with that same hand. Jack trips on the deep carpet and the fingers dig in again, making him squirm but holding him up as he staggers forward again. His shins hit the hard metal frame of the bed and he yelps and stops, but the hand keeps moving, urging him up onto the bed as the Master moves round beside him. Jack clambers up onto the bed – not the most graceful ascent he's ever made, without the use of either his arms or his eyes, but he's just trying to keep those sharp fingers out of those tender spots that make him cringe. He can feel the Master's weight come down on the bed beside him and the hand tips him forwards until he's face down on the silk sheets, still on his knees with his ass in the air. Jack shifts his legs apart for balance and manages to turn his head to the side a little to allow himself to breathe. The hand stays right where it is on the back of his neck, holding him down.
"Do you want to do it or shall I?" the Master asks conversationally, head turned away from Jack, towards the Doctor.
"Do what?" The Doctor sounds understandably wary.
"Whatever you want. I expect you'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you? You must've been thinking about fucking him for months. Wondering how different it'll be with your new body. Especially now that he's got the Vortex inside him."
Jack's never thought of it like that, though he supposes it makes sense, if it was the Time Vortex from the TARDIS that Rose used to bring him back to life. He shivers again and feels the hand on his neck tighten a fraction.
He can hear the Doctor moving closer, slowly but steadily. "And what would you be doing while I did that?"
"Watching… Watching you fuck your old friend, your faithful lieutenant, your darling Captain. What a picture – such beauty! Plus I'm sure I could help things along a bit too."
The Doctor's a lot nearer now. "All right," he says, still slow, still cautious. "Why not?"
Jack tenses, hardly believing his ears. Whatever he'd expected when he was preparing himself, it most certainly wasn't getting fucked by the Doctor, for the first time in 140 years, for the first time with the Doctor in this body, in front of the Master. He's not sure how either of them are going to be able to handle that. He's aware that the Doctor's probably reckoning that at least if he's the one to fuck Jack, he'll be the one in control. Which is reasonable, but it doesn't make it any easier for Jack. He's gotten used to the Master fucking him. He's most certainly not used to the Doctor.
And God, he didn't want their reunion to be like this.
But then, of course, he's not getting a choice.
"All right then!" the Master says delightedly, and his hand moves at last – to stroke the nape of Jack's neck in a way that's probably supposed to be soothing but instead just makes the hairs stand up. When at last the hand lifts, the Master moving away slightly, Jack swallows hard and tries to prepare himself mentally for what's to come.
"Don't try any funny business, though," the Master warns, as Jack feels and hears the Doctor climb up onto the bed behind him.
"Funny business?" The Doctor's tone is blank – deliberately blank, Jack's sure.
Unfortunately, the Master knows the Doctor even better than Jack does. He keeps forgetting that. "Telepathy," the Master says wearily. "I don't want the two of you plotting nefarious little plans while you're fucking for my entertainment. So don't try it. You know I'll know if you do."
There's a tiny pause. "All right," the Doctor says again, a trifle coldly. Jack starts as cool fingers stroke down the outside of his thigh, and he tries to relax, tries to tell himself it's just the Doctor and he's felt the Doctor before – but this isn't the Doctor he used to know and the touch isn't familiar and comforting as it's supposed to be.
"Are you ready, Jack?" the Doctor asks him, concern in his tone.
Ridiculously, the concern brings Jack the closest he's come yet to breaking down. He hadn't expected this – physical contact with the Doctor, and such intimate contact at that. He's not prepared. He can't just go from being the Master's toy to the Doctor's lover like this. He can't –
"Captain?" the Master prompts snidely, and that gives Jack the jolt he needs.
He shifts again, trying to take more of his weight onto his shoulder to release the strain on his neck, then takes as deep a breath as he can with his nose half-buried in the bedding and wills himself to relax. "Yes, Sir," he says, answering the Doctor, not the Master.
He hears the Master stir, not liking that, but he put the Doctor in charge, after all. He feels a waft of air as the Master gestures at the Doctor. "Go on then. Entertain me."
Jack can only imagine the look the Doctor replies with, but he does get moving. He starts to stroke Jack again – back and ass and thighs and cock – until Jack's skin is tingling and he's breathing hard and aching for more. He moans, just a little, which gets him a chuckle from the Master that makes his skin crawl. Then bony fingers spread him wide and Jack bites his lip and does his utmost not to clench up in fear of the unknown.
He wasn't prepared for this physically any more than mentally. The Master isn't huge and he likes it tight, so Jack's finally stopped bothering with butt plugs and preparing himself thoroughly. But if this version of the Doctor is anything like his predecessor, he's going to wish he'd been a bit more comprehensive.
“It’s all right, Jack, I’ve got you,” the Doctor says gently, pressing forward and Jack shoves his apprehension and personal issues aside and concentrates on the physical. There'll be time later to deal with the emotional.
It hurts, a little, but it's not as bad as he expected. And even the pain doesn't lessen his arousal. It just combines with the ache in his shoulders and neck, the strain in the muscles of his thighs and stomach, and the hurt of the unyielding metal cuffs against his wrists to make the pleasure he’s receiving even more intense.
The Doctor pauses, fully inside him, and Jack lets out a long, shuddery breath. His hands slide up his sweat-slicked back, jolting his shoulders, and he bites off a cry of pain. The Doctor strokes down his side, trembling slightly, and Jack realises belatedly that he isn't the only one for whom this is a big deal.
"Oh, that's beautiful," the Master says gleefully, and Jack starts. For a moment, he'd forgotten they weren't alone. "The two of you – so much prettiness. And so intimate. Oh, it's lovely."
The Doctor finally starts to move, and Jack bites his lip at the intensity of the sensation. The way the Doctor's fingers are digging into his hips demonstrates that he’s finding it pretty intense too.
"Oh, but it's good, isn't it, Doctor?" the Master croons. "Fucking him? You can feel the Vortex, can't you? Isn't it amazing?"
"Yeah," the Doctor breathes, pausing again. Jack wants more than anything to be able to see his face. It's wrong that he should have to endure something so intimate without being able to communicate with the Doctor.
"So you’re over all that stuff about It's not easy, just looking at you, Jack, ’cos you're wrong…?" the Master drawls, and Jack clenches his teeth against the flood of hatred that suddenly flows through him, because that isn’t the Master’s question to ask. It’s his.
“Oh, yeah, have been for a long time,” the Doctor says casually, but he’s stroking Jack’s back again soothingly. At the same time, Jack becomes aware of a faint presence in his mind, steadying and calming him. No words, and certainly no nefarious plans – but then, it's not like the Doctor needs to talk to Jack – he already knows all he needs to of the Doctor's plans. And perhaps real communication, with words, would be more discernable to the Master. Whatever the reason, the gentle presence is enough to help calm Jack. It's certainly a lot more familiar and reassuring than the body that's fucking him.
“Well, that didn’t take long, then, did it?” the Master teases, but it’s not light – there’s a real sting in the words. Jack cringes and starts to wish he’d made sure the Doctor had turned off the intercom while they had that rather personal conversation back on Malcassairo. He knew that Martha and Professor Yana and poor Chantho had been able to hear them, but he's never thought beyond that. Too much else has happened. Now he realises just how much ammunition they’ve given the Master to taunt them with.
"Oh, just shut up and let me enjoy myself, will you?" the Doctor says irritably, and the Master chuckles.
"Oh, all right, if you insist! As long as I'm allowed to join in, too."
"What are you going to do?" The Doctor's tone is as wary as Jack feels.
"Well, I thought I might do…" The bed rocks as the Master changes position, and Jack yelps as fingers grip his hair and use it to lift his head from the mattress, causing pain to strike through his sore shoulders. Air moves in front of his face and there's the sound of something being plumped down. "…This." And Jack's shoved down again into the pillow that's been placed beneath his face.
It takes a moment for realisation to sink in, then fear slams through his body. Automatically, he tries to draw in breath to yell and fight, but the tiny amount he gets through the pillow isn’t enough. He fights anyway, futilely.
The Doctor’s presence floods his mind, soothing, reassuring, and somewhere far away beyond the pounding in his ears, he hears the Doctor say, “Oh no. No. You’re not going to…?”
“Oh, I’ll try not to kill him, if you’re feeling squeamish,” the Master replies, all his weight on the hand holding Jack down. “But just feel the adrenalin, Doctor! Isn’t it amazing? And the drums? Can you feel the drums?”
The Doctor doesn’t answer, just grunts and starts to fuck Jack hard and fast, rocking him again and again into the pillow. Jack’s grateful for the brutality. He needs violence, to counteract the panic surging through him as he pushes up desperately against the Master’s hand. To give him something to anchor him against the way his body’s hurting and his lungs are burning. To give him something good to feel. Because it is good. It's more than good. His cock’s painting his stomach with pre-come with every thrust.
At this point, he realises belatedly, the Doctor and the Master are just about equally knowledgeable about what will get him off. With the two of them working on him together, he doesn’t stand a chance.
His lungs feel like they’re bursting by the time he’s let up. He gasps in air urgently, grateful for the Doctor stilling so he can concentrate on breathing while he’s allowed. He struggles helplessly when the Master pushes him down again. The Doctor starts to move again and Jack’s world narrows to just two things: the cock deep inside him and the fight for air.
He surfaces just enough to hear the vicious words whispered in his ear.
“You don’t breathe again till you come.”
Terror lurches through him. Stupid, pointless terror, because he knows if he dies he’ll come back, but he can’t help it. His instinct is not to die.
For a long moment, the fear is so overwhelming that it drowns out arousal and Jack fears that he won’t be able to come before he passes out. Then the Doctor changes his angle and there’s a hand on his cock too, and a surge of pleasure chases the fear. He rocks with the Doctor's thrusts, lungs heaving, body hurting, blood pulsing in his ears, and, finally, he comes, with a force that’s almost painful.
Vaguely, he’s aware of the grip on his hair turning his head to the side so that he can breathe and he gasps air painfully, feeling like he’s never going to be able to get enough. His thigh muscles are shaking with the strain of holding himself up, until finally he feels the Doctor slip out of him and he collapses onto his front.
After a moment, the bed sways sickeningly as the Doctor crawls over his leg and round to the side of him that isn’t occupied by the Master. The Master’s fingers finally uncurl from his hair, and a gentler hand replaces them, stroking him – once, twice – before undoing the strap of the blindfold so that the cloth falls away from his face. Jack doesn’t open his eyes. He’ll be looking at the Doctor if he does, and he’s not ready.
Other hands – the Master’s – slide a key into his handcuffs and a moment later they fall away too. His arms fall to the bed at his sides, jarring his shoulders horribly. The most he can manage in protest is a whimper, but even that brings the Doctor leaning over him, a tentative hand stroking down his back. "Jack? Are you…? What's wrong?"
And Jack laughs – though it sounds like a sob, even to him – because the Doctor really doesn't know what he's done, by taking the Master's place and giving Jack the pain and the pleasure he needed to reach that high. He's stripped away Jack's defences, the layer of armour that was letting him get through this without giving up. Lying here with the Doctor petting him, concerned and oblivious, Jack's never felt so open and defenceless.
Slowly, moving in tiny degrees to minimise the pain, he gets his hands under his chest and lifts himself up enough to turn his head. The effort makes him sweat and shake. He rests a second, then finally opens his eyes and looks at the Master.
He can't see anything at first – the room's not brightly lit, but it's enough to make his eyes water at the contrast to the darkness he's been in. When his vision does eventually clear, he sees exactly what he expected to see: the Master, smirking.
"Oh, that really was lovely. Such a beautiful display of trust and intimacy. Even if it was slightly misplaced trust, eh? You thought he’d look after you, didn’t you, Jack? Well, he did look after you. But the thing is, who’s going to look after you when he’s gone? Oh yes. That’d be me.”
Jack closes his eyes again to shut out the sight of the Master’s triumphant grin. He’s exhausted and exposed and he can’t take it. He feels himself start to tremble and he lays his head down again, facing the Doctor and trying to find enough composure to re-open his eyes.
When he does, it’s to a Doctor who looks more miserable than Jack’s ever seen him. “I’m so sorry, Jack,” he says helplessly, so wretched he’s not even trying to touch Jack now. “I thought I was helping, by giving you something to enjoy. I didn’t realise it would do this to you. I’m sorry.”
Jack wants to answer, to reassure him that he’ll be all right, even though he’d be lying. But he can’t find the strength. He’s lying there, stripped bare and oh so horribly vulnerable and he can’t be the strong one any more. And it was wonderful to connect with someone – with the Doctor – even if just for a while. But now it’s gone, he feels even more alone than he was before.
And then something shifts in his head and he realises that he’s not alone. The Doctor’s still there, in his mind. He’s not touching him physically, but he’s still there. It’s all right, Jack, I’ve still got you, the words come into his head, strong and comforting, though the Doctor’s expression doesn’t change. Jack waits for a reaction from the Master, but there’s none. I needed the deep physical contact, and your orgasm, to strengthen the connection, but I’m with you now, and I’m not going anywhere.
Jack exhales slowly. He can hardly believe what he’s hearing, and he’s too exhausted to try to form words, but he manages a tiny smile as he looks up at the Doctor. The Doctor looks back at him, externally still miserable, but the voice in Jack’s head is like a caress, and strong arms around him.
We’ll have to be careful, Jack, but… you won’t have to bear this alone any more. It’s all right now. I’ve got you.
Next part.
-------------
As always, feedback and con-crit very welcome. Especially as this one hasn't been officially beta'd. :-)
Title: Blind (Master Plan - Part 9)
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Author:
unfeatheredPairing: Jack/The Master/Tenth Doctor
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: non-con, D/s, bondage, sensory deprivation, breathplay, telepathy
Word Count: 3,984
Spoilers: Mainly the end of Doctor Who Season 3
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Kinky threesome sex *g*
Author's Note: Written for
becky_writing's Guilty Pleasures Fest. This is part of the Master Plan 'verse, but it's from Jack's POV and hopefully can successfully be read as a stand-alone if desired.Author's Note 2: If you haven't been reading Master Plan, you need to know that the Master has de-aged the Doctor, otherwise you might be seriously squicked by this story! *g* And 'that one time on the bridge' is described in Master Plan – Part 5.
Jack walks between his guards along the lower corridors of the Valiant. He's handcuffed and blindfolded. He's also naked and clean and prepared for sex. Out of all of that, it's the blindfold that bothers him the most. Mainly because it's really not helping him stop worrying about where he's being taken. The Master's always come to him before – except that one time on the bridge, but there was a reason for that. He supposes there's a reason for this too, but he doesn't know what. What's he being taken to?
A door opens and he's pushed through it, not roughly but hard enough that he stumbles over the threshold and finds himself alone with the door closing quietly behind him. He takes a moment to find his balance, toes curling deep into soft, luxurious carpet, then breathes deeply and focuses on listening.
Someone over there, ahead and to his left. And straight ahead of him, there's someone else – on a bed. It's creaking a little as they move.
So… the Master, obviously. And… presumably either Lucy or the Doctor. After the Christmas party, Jack's money’s on the Doctor. He sniffs again, but he's not familiar enough with this version of the Doctor to be able to tell for sure. It's definitely male, though, which makes it a pretty sure bet.
"Over here, please, Jack," the Master says, over to his left, and Jack turns towards him and obediently starts to walk. It's hard, blindfolded, each step a step into the unknown and he has to really concentrate. The Master guides him with sound – fabric rustling, a zipper being pulled down, more rustling and then the very faint noise of skin on skin – and finally tells him to stop. Jack stops, and sinks automatically to his knees.
There's a tiny, sharp intake of breath from the person on the bed. Oh, yeah, it's the Doctor. Jack waits for the protest, but it doesn't come, which worries him a little. But he doesn't have time to think about that too much before he feels the weight of a hand on his head. It strokes the hair that's not pulled flat under the strap of the blindfold – once, twice – before coming to rest at the back of his head. It applies gentle pressure, and Jack rocks forward, mouth opening.
The hand stays there while he sucks, giving him no leeway, and he's grateful. It's nice to be able to pretend that he's being coerced into this, that he's not in fact a pathetic slut who'll get hard and needy just from the thought of being mastered like this, let alone the fact of it. Occasionally, the Master doesn't let him pretend; makes him give rather than take, makes him really use all those skills he's picked up over the years. But mostly, it's like this. The Master does like to be in charge.
It's not long before he's being pressed closer and the Master starts to fuck his mouth. Jack shifts his weight so he can take the force of the thrusts and opens his throat so he can take the Master's cock. He tries very hard to ignore the fact that the whole thing – kneeling naked and chained with the Master's hand on the back of his head and the Master's cock fucking his throat – has got him hard and flushed and panting with arousal.
Not that it would be news to the Doctor, who must have a pretty good idea what the Master does to him in private, and who knows only too well how Jack reacts to being dominated. Not forgetting that time on the bridge when he got to see it at first hand.
It's certainly ironic. All that time waiting for the Doctor to come back into his life, and when he does, Jack ends up being dominated by his arch-enemy instead.
Or perhaps by both of them, today. The Doctor's on his way over.
The Master stills in Jack's mouth and he takes advantage of the chance to breathe properly. "He's perfect, isn't he, Doctor? Isn't he perfect?"
"'Course he is – I knew that long before you did," the Doctor says casually, and Jack stiffens instinctively as he feels the Doctor come to rest behind him – feet between his, legs against his back, cock bobbing against his hair. Bare, cool skin he hasn't felt in so very long. The Time Lords shift their weight and lean towards each other above his head. Jack hears them kissing, and shivers. He starts to wonder just how much of the Doctor's ease with the Master is acting and how much is genuine. He's not sure he could cope with the Doctor abandoning him again, not for the Master.
The Master seems to feel the shiver because he chuckles into the Doctor's mouth and his hand starts to stroke Jack's hair again. It's not that that makes Jack relax, though. It's feeling the Doctor's hand on his shoulder and the faint brush of the Doctor's mind against his. Too faint for actual words, just a gentle, calming presence, asking him to trust the Doctor. There's no reaction from the Master. Jack's fairly sure the Master can't get into his head, any more than Tosh could with that pendant. He'd be able to feel him, just as he can feel the Doctor now, soothing and reassuring him.
Jack relaxes. He probably shouldn't trust the Doctor so instinctively, not after the way he's been treated, but he does. He starts to suck again – hard – and gets a gratifying gasp from the Master. He smiles to himself. He might be the one who's naked and chained and on his knees, but he's not without power. However much he might like to pretend he's being forced into this – to ease his guilt about submitting to a mass-murdering megalomaniac – he knows he has a choice. It may not be much of a choice, but it's important and, in a way, comforting too. Because while he's doing this of his own free will, that means he still has free will, that the Master hasn't taken that away from him. And while he still has free will, the Master hasn't won.
And to be perfectly honest, he'd rather have it like this than with real coercion. He enjoys sex. If he's going to play 'distract the Master', he'd rather do this than be killed or tortured any day.
"Cocky little bugger, aren't you?" the Master murmurs above him, and Jack freezes, suddenly not so sure the Master can't read his mind. Then he realises it was his grin around the cock in his mouth that gave him away. The grin's gone now. The hand on his hair slips down to grip the back of his neck, fingers and thumb digging in hard behind his ears and yanking upwards so he's forced to scramble up to his feet. "Bed," the Master says tersely, turning him round and propelling him forwards with that same hand. Jack trips on the deep carpet and the fingers dig in again, making him squirm but holding him up as he staggers forward again. His shins hit the hard metal frame of the bed and he yelps and stops, but the hand keeps moving, urging him up onto the bed as the Master moves round beside him. Jack clambers up onto the bed – not the most graceful ascent he's ever made, without the use of either his arms or his eyes, but he's just trying to keep those sharp fingers out of those tender spots that make him cringe. He can feel the Master's weight come down on the bed beside him and the hand tips him forwards until he's face down on the silk sheets, still on his knees with his ass in the air. Jack shifts his legs apart for balance and manages to turn his head to the side a little to allow himself to breathe. The hand stays right where it is on the back of his neck, holding him down.
"Do you want to do it or shall I?" the Master asks conversationally, head turned away from Jack, towards the Doctor.
"Do what?" The Doctor sounds understandably wary.
"Whatever you want. I expect you'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you? You must've been thinking about fucking him for months. Wondering how different it'll be with your new body. Especially now that he's got the Vortex inside him."
Jack's never thought of it like that, though he supposes it makes sense, if it was the Time Vortex from the TARDIS that Rose used to bring him back to life. He shivers again and feels the hand on his neck tighten a fraction.
He can hear the Doctor moving closer, slowly but steadily. "And what would you be doing while I did that?"
"Watching… Watching you fuck your old friend, your faithful lieutenant, your darling Captain. What a picture – such beauty! Plus I'm sure I could help things along a bit too."
The Doctor's a lot nearer now. "All right," he says, still slow, still cautious. "Why not?"
Jack tenses, hardly believing his ears. Whatever he'd expected when he was preparing himself, it most certainly wasn't getting fucked by the Doctor, for the first time in 140 years, for the first time with the Doctor in this body, in front of the Master. He's not sure how either of them are going to be able to handle that. He's aware that the Doctor's probably reckoning that at least if he's the one to fuck Jack, he'll be the one in control. Which is reasonable, but it doesn't make it any easier for Jack. He's gotten used to the Master fucking him. He's most certainly not used to the Doctor.
And God, he didn't want their reunion to be like this.
But then, of course, he's not getting a choice.
"All right then!" the Master says delightedly, and his hand moves at last – to stroke the nape of Jack's neck in a way that's probably supposed to be soothing but instead just makes the hairs stand up. When at last the hand lifts, the Master moving away slightly, Jack swallows hard and tries to prepare himself mentally for what's to come.
"Don't try any funny business, though," the Master warns, as Jack feels and hears the Doctor climb up onto the bed behind him.
"Funny business?" The Doctor's tone is blank – deliberately blank, Jack's sure.
Unfortunately, the Master knows the Doctor even better than Jack does. He keeps forgetting that. "Telepathy," the Master says wearily. "I don't want the two of you plotting nefarious little plans while you're fucking for my entertainment. So don't try it. You know I'll know if you do."
There's a tiny pause. "All right," the Doctor says again, a trifle coldly. Jack starts as cool fingers stroke down the outside of his thigh, and he tries to relax, tries to tell himself it's just the Doctor and he's felt the Doctor before – but this isn't the Doctor he used to know and the touch isn't familiar and comforting as it's supposed to be.
"Are you ready, Jack?" the Doctor asks him, concern in his tone.
Ridiculously, the concern brings Jack the closest he's come yet to breaking down. He hadn't expected this – physical contact with the Doctor, and such intimate contact at that. He's not prepared. He can't just go from being the Master's toy to the Doctor's lover like this. He can't –
"Captain?" the Master prompts snidely, and that gives Jack the jolt he needs.
He shifts again, trying to take more of his weight onto his shoulder to release the strain on his neck, then takes as deep a breath as he can with his nose half-buried in the bedding and wills himself to relax. "Yes, Sir," he says, answering the Doctor, not the Master.
He hears the Master stir, not liking that, but he put the Doctor in charge, after all. He feels a waft of air as the Master gestures at the Doctor. "Go on then. Entertain me."
Jack can only imagine the look the Doctor replies with, but he does get moving. He starts to stroke Jack again – back and ass and thighs and cock – until Jack's skin is tingling and he's breathing hard and aching for more. He moans, just a little, which gets him a chuckle from the Master that makes his skin crawl. Then bony fingers spread him wide and Jack bites his lip and does his utmost not to clench up in fear of the unknown.
He wasn't prepared for this physically any more than mentally. The Master isn't huge and he likes it tight, so Jack's finally stopped bothering with butt plugs and preparing himself thoroughly. But if this version of the Doctor is anything like his predecessor, he's going to wish he'd been a bit more comprehensive.
“It’s all right, Jack, I’ve got you,” the Doctor says gently, pressing forward and Jack shoves his apprehension and personal issues aside and concentrates on the physical. There'll be time later to deal with the emotional.
It hurts, a little, but it's not as bad as he expected. And even the pain doesn't lessen his arousal. It just combines with the ache in his shoulders and neck, the strain in the muscles of his thighs and stomach, and the hurt of the unyielding metal cuffs against his wrists to make the pleasure he’s receiving even more intense.
The Doctor pauses, fully inside him, and Jack lets out a long, shuddery breath. His hands slide up his sweat-slicked back, jolting his shoulders, and he bites off a cry of pain. The Doctor strokes down his side, trembling slightly, and Jack realises belatedly that he isn't the only one for whom this is a big deal.
"Oh, that's beautiful," the Master says gleefully, and Jack starts. For a moment, he'd forgotten they weren't alone. "The two of you – so much prettiness. And so intimate. Oh, it's lovely."
The Doctor finally starts to move, and Jack bites his lip at the intensity of the sensation. The way the Doctor's fingers are digging into his hips demonstrates that he’s finding it pretty intense too.
"Oh, but it's good, isn't it, Doctor?" the Master croons. "Fucking him? You can feel the Vortex, can't you? Isn't it amazing?"
"Yeah," the Doctor breathes, pausing again. Jack wants more than anything to be able to see his face. It's wrong that he should have to endure something so intimate without being able to communicate with the Doctor.
"So you’re over all that stuff about It's not easy, just looking at you, Jack, ’cos you're wrong…?" the Master drawls, and Jack clenches his teeth against the flood of hatred that suddenly flows through him, because that isn’t the Master’s question to ask. It’s his.
“Oh, yeah, have been for a long time,” the Doctor says casually, but he’s stroking Jack’s back again soothingly. At the same time, Jack becomes aware of a faint presence in his mind, steadying and calming him. No words, and certainly no nefarious plans – but then, it's not like the Doctor needs to talk to Jack – he already knows all he needs to of the Doctor's plans. And perhaps real communication, with words, would be more discernable to the Master. Whatever the reason, the gentle presence is enough to help calm Jack. It's certainly a lot more familiar and reassuring than the body that's fucking him.
“Well, that didn’t take long, then, did it?” the Master teases, but it’s not light – there’s a real sting in the words. Jack cringes and starts to wish he’d made sure the Doctor had turned off the intercom while they had that rather personal conversation back on Malcassairo. He knew that Martha and Professor Yana and poor Chantho had been able to hear them, but he's never thought beyond that. Too much else has happened. Now he realises just how much ammunition they’ve given the Master to taunt them with.
"Oh, just shut up and let me enjoy myself, will you?" the Doctor says irritably, and the Master chuckles.
"Oh, all right, if you insist! As long as I'm allowed to join in, too."
"What are you going to do?" The Doctor's tone is as wary as Jack feels.
"Well, I thought I might do…" The bed rocks as the Master changes position, and Jack yelps as fingers grip his hair and use it to lift his head from the mattress, causing pain to strike through his sore shoulders. Air moves in front of his face and there's the sound of something being plumped down. "…This." And Jack's shoved down again into the pillow that's been placed beneath his face.
It takes a moment for realisation to sink in, then fear slams through his body. Automatically, he tries to draw in breath to yell and fight, but the tiny amount he gets through the pillow isn’t enough. He fights anyway, futilely.
The Doctor’s presence floods his mind, soothing, reassuring, and somewhere far away beyond the pounding in his ears, he hears the Doctor say, “Oh no. No. You’re not going to…?”
“Oh, I’ll try not to kill him, if you’re feeling squeamish,” the Master replies, all his weight on the hand holding Jack down. “But just feel the adrenalin, Doctor! Isn’t it amazing? And the drums? Can you feel the drums?”
The Doctor doesn’t answer, just grunts and starts to fuck Jack hard and fast, rocking him again and again into the pillow. Jack’s grateful for the brutality. He needs violence, to counteract the panic surging through him as he pushes up desperately against the Master’s hand. To give him something to anchor him against the way his body’s hurting and his lungs are burning. To give him something good to feel. Because it is good. It's more than good. His cock’s painting his stomach with pre-come with every thrust.
At this point, he realises belatedly, the Doctor and the Master are just about equally knowledgeable about what will get him off. With the two of them working on him together, he doesn’t stand a chance.
His lungs feel like they’re bursting by the time he’s let up. He gasps in air urgently, grateful for the Doctor stilling so he can concentrate on breathing while he’s allowed. He struggles helplessly when the Master pushes him down again. The Doctor starts to move again and Jack’s world narrows to just two things: the cock deep inside him and the fight for air.
He surfaces just enough to hear the vicious words whispered in his ear.
“You don’t breathe again till you come.”
Terror lurches through him. Stupid, pointless terror, because he knows if he dies he’ll come back, but he can’t help it. His instinct is not to die.
For a long moment, the fear is so overwhelming that it drowns out arousal and Jack fears that he won’t be able to come before he passes out. Then the Doctor changes his angle and there’s a hand on his cock too, and a surge of pleasure chases the fear. He rocks with the Doctor's thrusts, lungs heaving, body hurting, blood pulsing in his ears, and, finally, he comes, with a force that’s almost painful.
Vaguely, he’s aware of the grip on his hair turning his head to the side so that he can breathe and he gasps air painfully, feeling like he’s never going to be able to get enough. His thigh muscles are shaking with the strain of holding himself up, until finally he feels the Doctor slip out of him and he collapses onto his front.
After a moment, the bed sways sickeningly as the Doctor crawls over his leg and round to the side of him that isn’t occupied by the Master. The Master’s fingers finally uncurl from his hair, and a gentler hand replaces them, stroking him – once, twice – before undoing the strap of the blindfold so that the cloth falls away from his face. Jack doesn’t open his eyes. He’ll be looking at the Doctor if he does, and he’s not ready.
Other hands – the Master’s – slide a key into his handcuffs and a moment later they fall away too. His arms fall to the bed at his sides, jarring his shoulders horribly. The most he can manage in protest is a whimper, but even that brings the Doctor leaning over him, a tentative hand stroking down his back. "Jack? Are you…? What's wrong?"
And Jack laughs – though it sounds like a sob, even to him – because the Doctor really doesn't know what he's done, by taking the Master's place and giving Jack the pain and the pleasure he needed to reach that high. He's stripped away Jack's defences, the layer of armour that was letting him get through this without giving up. Lying here with the Doctor petting him, concerned and oblivious, Jack's never felt so open and defenceless.
Slowly, moving in tiny degrees to minimise the pain, he gets his hands under his chest and lifts himself up enough to turn his head. The effort makes him sweat and shake. He rests a second, then finally opens his eyes and looks at the Master.
He can't see anything at first – the room's not brightly lit, but it's enough to make his eyes water at the contrast to the darkness he's been in. When his vision does eventually clear, he sees exactly what he expected to see: the Master, smirking.
"Oh, that really was lovely. Such a beautiful display of trust and intimacy. Even if it was slightly misplaced trust, eh? You thought he’d look after you, didn’t you, Jack? Well, he did look after you. But the thing is, who’s going to look after you when he’s gone? Oh yes. That’d be me.”
Jack closes his eyes again to shut out the sight of the Master’s triumphant grin. He’s exhausted and exposed and he can’t take it. He feels himself start to tremble and he lays his head down again, facing the Doctor and trying to find enough composure to re-open his eyes.
When he does, it’s to a Doctor who looks more miserable than Jack’s ever seen him. “I’m so sorry, Jack,” he says helplessly, so wretched he’s not even trying to touch Jack now. “I thought I was helping, by giving you something to enjoy. I didn’t realise it would do this to you. I’m sorry.”
Jack wants to answer, to reassure him that he’ll be all right, even though he’d be lying. But he can’t find the strength. He’s lying there, stripped bare and oh so horribly vulnerable and he can’t be the strong one any more. And it was wonderful to connect with someone – with the Doctor – even if just for a while. But now it’s gone, he feels even more alone than he was before.
And then something shifts in his head and he realises that he’s not alone. The Doctor’s still there, in his mind. He’s not touching him physically, but he’s still there. It’s all right, Jack, I’ve still got you, the words come into his head, strong and comforting, though the Doctor’s expression doesn’t change. Jack waits for a reaction from the Master, but there’s none. I needed the deep physical contact, and your orgasm, to strengthen the connection, but I’m with you now, and I’m not going anywhere.
Jack exhales slowly. He can hardly believe what he’s hearing, and he’s too exhausted to try to form words, but he manages a tiny smile as he looks up at the Doctor. The Doctor looks back at him, externally still miserable, but the voice in Jack’s head is like a caress, and strong arms around him.
We’ll have to be careful, Jack, but… you won’t have to bear this alone any more. It’s all right now. I’ve got you.
Next part.
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As always, feedback and con-crit very welcome. Especially as this one hasn't been officially beta'd. :-)
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definitely recognize the voice of the master from master plan here:
"Oh, that really was lovely. Such a beautiful display of trust and intimacy. Even if it was slightly misplaced trust, eh? You thought he’d look after you, didn’t you, Jack? Well, he did look after you. But the thing is, who’s going to look after you when he’s gone? Oh yes. That’d be me.”
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And yeah, it's definitely part of Master Plan. In fact, it might have kick-started it again. It seems that a change of POV was just what I needed! :-)
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I'm continually totally fangirlsquee for you!
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Ah, I see. I hadn't thought of it like that, so that's very interesting! Though tbh, I don't really differentiate a lot in my head between what he thinks and what he says (in fact there was a big bit in one chapter that was just going to be him thinking and then I decided to actually let him say it) - because both thoughts and speech come through in my head in his voice anyway, iyswim.
Actually, I'm glad the voice came through for you, because I wasn't that sure I'd got his voice very well in this. So that's very nice to know. :-)
I'm continually totally fangirlsquee for you!
Wow - thank you! *big happy grin*
Love your icon, btw.
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Tbh, I'm a little hazy on there the line actually is between non-con and D/s. I mean, strictly speaking, I suppose anything is non-con if you're a prisoner, which both the Doctor and Jack are on the Valiant. But when they're enjoying it so much too... I don't know. It feels complicated to me.
Also (as I assume you haven't read the whole series?) there is a bit at the start of Master Plan where Jack does voluntarily submit to the Master, so I don't know if that makes a difference?
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I'm going to step in here, really briefly just to say:
If there is no consent, it's not D/s, it's non-con. D/s doesn't negate consent issues and makes them more important, in fact, to avoid serious level of squick for some people. If the issue isn't clearly addressed it's dubious consent. You can have elements of D/s inside non or dub con, sure, but they're not actually related.
If there is consent, and only if there is consent, can you not consider it non-con or dub-con.
And on that note: This reads like really dubious consent or non-consent, which probably means it needs warned for.
And on THAT note, I'm out of the house again.
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So should I put both non-con and D/s? And for the rest of the series, too? Well, once they started having sex, I guess?
Please ignore that journal.
What journal? *g* (Of course.)
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I'd leave both, too - and yeah.
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Ah well, I'm doing a lot of learning in public these days!
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Headers are blurry issues in fandom. Warnings tend to be the concern of the author, and how much they're willing to give away/spoil. That's up to you, and you'd read so much of my BDSM stuff harping on choice and consent, that I made an assumption I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry for that.
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And it's OK, I just... I'm feeling a bit of an idiot here. Which is my fault, not yours. As I said, I was meaning to ask about it but kept forgetting. IT was a fair enough assumption to make on your part. And I made an assumption too, that you were checking my headers, even though after the first couple I hadn't asked you specifically about warnings - and I'm very bad at remembering to include headers in what I send to betas anyway...
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*hugs you tight* It's okay, and I'm sorry, too. We all mess up on that kind of stuff, god knows I do, and we'll keep better track. (Though I will say now that I'm thinking: That the ones I actually beta-read, being from the Master's POV and with Jack being resistant but pulling his strings, *I* wasn't sure about the level of consent.)
*wraps and loves*
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Well, that's jolly helpful! *g*
Have to say, I've got to the Doctor/Master one now in my header-editing (part 6, the last one you beta'd) and that one does seem to be a little less non-con - should that one be just dub-con, d'you think?
And yeah, it's good that these things come out occasionally, as a reminder to communicate more carefully! :-)
*snuggles*
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I've also found a couple of bits where I'd forgotten to add links too, so this has been very useful all round! :-)
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The line between D/s and non-con is exactly the same as the line between sex and rape. D/s is not about dubious consent or about non consent, although it can be role-played as such, that only happens with mutual consent.
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And thank you - I really hadn't realised it was as simple as that! Will add non-con to the headings.
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Interestingly, no-one's mentioned the ray of hope yet this time round, whereas it was the main subject of conversation last time. Weird how that goes!
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And thank you for letting me know what worked!
Not sure when more will be coming, but I'm starting to have a few ideas for the next chapter. I need to do a bit of sorting out of how far ahead I want to jump first, though.
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What an incredible piece of writing. I must read the rest of it now.
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Please feel free to tell me what you think of the rest of it, when you get to it - I love getting feedback! :-)
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Very well written, mesmerising in fact...but I need to know that this whole Master plan will end up on a bit of a high note, as I hate seeing Jack so subservient and mistreated.
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Very well written, mesmerising in fact
That? Is a gorgeous thing to say. Thank you! :-)
I need to know that this whole Master plan will end up on a bit of a high note, as I hate seeing Jack so subservient and mistreated.
I'm intending to end with canon. This isn't supposed to be AU, but more of a (very, very long) missing scene. How it will get there... is still a bit of a mystery to me too! *g*
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I think I liked Blind a bit more, cause for one thing there wasn't that first person POV I detest and for another, we got a bit more insight into Jack and his feelings regarding all of this.
Not that I don't like Master Plan- I love it! But First Person is a bit jarring for me, cause it sort of forces you into the story, when you want to kick back and watch it unfold. Maybe it's just me. Plus when Jack gave in so quickly in the first chapter I was worried, but after reading the rest of the parts I realized this is all from The Master's POV, so whatever Jack's reasoning for appearing to be submissive, we're not privy to- which is a shame in itself, cause it can add layers.
I loved all 8 chapters and I'm eager for more. It's dark, disturbing, mad and oh so hot. I have a serious Master/Jack kink and this is really feeding it. Plus all the Master/Doctor and Jack/Doctor loveliness going on. Not much to say, other than great job and I hope you keep with this story- not enough Master/Jack fics out there!
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To be honest, I didn't really choose 1st person for this, it just sort of happened. The first mini-chapter just flowed out and it all grew from there. And the Master just decided he wanted to tell the story himself. It has led to me learning an awful lot about the difficulties of writing first person, especially in the present tense, and I do think I've got better at it as I went along.
I agree (as you will have seen if you've read the comments on the relevant chapters) that Jack's submission was too quick and I am working on editing in a few bits to those early chapters. I also really hadn't thought enough about Jack's motivation early on, but I think it's fair to say there's a lot more going on there than what the Master saw.
As for liking Blind more, I think I do too, in a way - it's a more conventional story, written from a more conventional POV, and I'm very, very pleased with it. The rest of Master Plan is very different, and a real journey of discovery for me.
And there should be more fairly soon. I am a good way through the next chapter, but my writing's coming very much in fits and starts at the moment so I have no idea when it'll be finished. Hopefully within the next month or so.
Thank you very much for commenting! :-)
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Thank you.
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Um. There is actually more after Blind - not sure if I linked it right. I think there's a link to the next part at the top just under the headings, rather than at the end. I need to change that!
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Oh *pops back for a second* I friended you! *takes off down the corridor toward 'more' one again, Converse slapping the tiles resoundingly*