but none of 'em were home inside the catacomb (for twood_rose)

[syncopath]

He had no way of knowing how long he had been in the dark; it was a funny thing, perhaps, but even a Time Lord must concede (as much as it might personally gall him) that death is timeless by its very nature. Still, he remembered everything.

When he awoke, groggily, the first thing he did was clap a hand to his neck, expecting a mark or a hole where the persistent memory of pain told him it should be. There was nothing. A ghost feeling. He blinked twice and sat up.

The room was dim, dusty and unused, and the small sink in the corner rattled ominously before spitting out water of some unsavory color, but there was comfort, egregiously tiny as it may be, in washing up as best he could. He surveyed his surroundings again. Besides the mattress he'd woken up on (and who had placed him there?) the room boasted nothing else.

He knew when he was, but not where. Or why. Not for the first time, he wondered if it might not be a prison.

The Master took panicked strides toward the door, fully expecting it not to open when he yanked on the handle roughly, and almost falling backwards when he was proven wrong.

A maze of hallways spread itself before him, each equally dim and dusty as the room behind. As the Master began to walk, it became obvious what he'd somehow known from the moment he opened the door. It wasn't a prison.

It was a ruin.

Comments

[syncopath]

The kiss caught him off-guard, eliciting another small moan from the Master. He dispensed with the buckle, unzipped hurriedly, gripped her bare ass with fingers like iron, deepening the kiss as he pulled her closer to him.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She kissed him harder and deeper as well, even as she groaned a little from the pain of his fingers gripping, crushing her ass. Her knees slid to either side of his legs, opening her to him, and she flexed her hips, pressing against him.

He hardly needed to force himself on her at all, and she wondered how he felt about that. Maybe it was a disappointment. Or maybe under all the brokenness there was still the desire to be wanted, to be needed. To be loved.

[syncopath]

It was a trifle disappointing, if he'd stopped to think about it, but frankly the opportunity to despoil Rose Tyler-- to have brought her to that level, where she would willingly give herself to him, where she was his-- it was alluring in its own right. Part of him would have realized that this was his aim from the beginning-- to corrupt her, to steal her away from the Doctor in spirit and body, once and for all.

He was thinking of none of that at the moment, however, letting the rhythm in his head guide the rest of the body, wash over him until it devoured him almost completely.

He entered her with no preamble, a simple, violent thrust, pushing her back against the pillar.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

Rose, however...Rose saw it differently. When he desired her, kissed her, took her, she was the one with the power. She embraced him with all her heart, loving him in his brokenness, so similar to the way she loved the Doctor, had loved him since the moment she met him.

He thrust into her, violently, and the kiss broke as Rose screamed out his name.

"MASTER!!!"

[syncopath]

It was so good, the way she screamed his name. The way they writhed together, a two-headed serpent, an Ouroboros gone horribly wrong. Pleasure and pain intertwined until the two were indistinguishable from each other, and through it all, the ever-present, never-changing drumbeat that drove him on.

His face darkened with mad passion, he fucked her with a sort of vicious, predatory air, devoid of self-awareness, the tails of his coat covering the both of them like the wings of a hawk. Thinking of nothing but her scent, her skin, the way she felt wrapped around him.

"Rose," he hissed in her ear.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She wished desperately that her hands were free. Not to push him away; exactly the opposite. She wanted to hold him close, tight, to run her fingers in his hair and down his back and over his ass. However, she wasn't about to stop this glorious encounter to request her release. Instead she did what she could from her bound position to fuck him back, hard. He hissed her name in her ear, and she moaned, turned her head, caught his earlobe in her teeth, bit down.

[syncopath]

Growling softly, he bit her back, deep, latching onto the skin just where her neck curved into the shoulder. His fingers dug into her flesh, nails scratching.

The drums swelled, close to a crescendo, and the Master made a sound that could have been a whimper, not slowing his pace. One hand drifted up, almost blindly, toward her head.

He wanted to share this.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

Rose cried out as he bit her, but did not release his earlobe from her teeth. Indeed, if anything she bit harder, and thrust her hips against his harder, fucking him just a surely as he was fucking her. Her own pleasure was mounting, mounting, to a fever pitch, and as the Master's hand drifted up toward her head, she began to tremble with the force of explosive ecstasy just barely contained.

[syncopath]

The Master's fingers found her hair, then her temple, pressing firmly into it as he gripped.

He knew she was close, could feel every convulsion and shiver, and that brought him closer to his own climax. On the edge, he sank himself in as deeply as he could, in every sense of the word. Needed her to hear them, to take some of the burden, this glorious curse.

It occurred to him fleetingly-- as much as anything could occur to him so distracted-- that perhaps she wouldn't hear them. That she would refuse, close herself, or be incapable.

But how could she not? They were so loud in his head, so very, very loud.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

A door, once opened...

She heard them, alright. And the sound opened something inside her, something long locked away...

And the song of the Time Vortex, the song that had poured into her as she stared into the heart of the TARDIS, poured into her head and into the Master's, the melody to his rhythm.

And she was swept away, climaxing with a gasp, her entire body convulsing in wave after wave of sweet, blinding, annihilating pleasure.

[syncopath]

He felt her intrusion, sneered a little as he cursed silently, tried to come back into himself to firmly push her out, too late.

"Clever... cl..."

It was as far as he got before it hit him. His eyes widened in shock and fear, the truths, the power spiraling from her mind drowning what was left of his own, stripping him of everything. He was a child again, powerless, attacked at the very center of what he thought he was.

And it was so beautiful.

The Master came then, as soundly and as fiercely as their union had been, and it was like hitting something unyielding, the ocean after a sharp plummet downwards.

Still connected enough to be dimly aware of Rose's own orgasm, the pleasure she was feeling, he sank into her, murmuring gibberish that consisted almost solely of her name mixed with the soft, intricate tangle of words from his own dead planet.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She cradled him, in her soul, in the center of her being, wrapping him in warmth and music and love. She whispered his name, over and over, her lips moving over his cheek and her breath gentle on his ear. Had she been more aware of their physical situation, she might have asked him to release her, so that she could take him in her arms. As it was, her awareness was in her head, in his head, in the shared mental space he had established, and the position of their physical bodies hardly mattered.

[syncopath]

He slumped against her, clung to her naked frame, raw and exhausted and small and very, very terrified of his own vulnerability. She was in there still; he could feel it, and he could do little more than let her hold him. And the Vortex, the Vortex, the Vortex--

What have you done?

The question couldn't be articulated vocally; could barely be spoken at all other than as a passing thought she might sift out. He was too distracted, trying to account for this new information, and simultaneously trying to recoil from it.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

Her fingers began to tingle. She flexed her hands involuntarily, and the tingle flushed into pain, bringing her out of their shared reverie. She nuzzled his cheek gently, and murmured.

"Master... please untie me... please, let me hold you..."

[syncopath]

The request nudged him from his contemplation a bit, and he lifted his head, bewildered and resentful, to look at her.

He could just leave her here, he realized not for the first time. He was not the one, after all, stripped of clothing and tied to a pillar bare to the elements. It was up to the Master, after all, to decide whether to be merciful.

The song teased at him, worried his brain, and he abruptly pushed himself upright, using mostly the pillar behind her. With a disgusted and embarrassed air he refastened his trousers and pulled the laser screwdriver from the pocket of his overcoat.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She saw that change, that look of resentment and disgust, and when he pulled the laser screwdriver from his pocket...

She whimpered, squeezed her eyes closed, turned her head to hide her face against her shoulder.

[syncopath]

The Master almost laughed at that, Rose cowering, strung up naked like a sacrificial lamb. There was something so gratifying about it, really the reason he'd done it in the first place-- although that seemed ages ago. And now everything had changed...

Almost laughed. Really just a cold smirk, as he fired at the tie, severing her bonds and freeing her.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to her hands and knees, trembling. She concentrated on her breathing, fighting to regain control. In... out... in... out...

She pushed herself to sitting, and slid back against the pillar, reaching blindly for her clothes as she went, keeping her eyes lifted to the Master.

[syncopath]

The Master's own eyes were distant again, his head cocked, listening with distracted fascination. He barely registered Rose's fall, or her fear, although it prickled at edge of his senses.

"Storm coming," he said absently.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She took a glance at the sky as she pulled herself to her feet. Piece by piece she quickly dressed.

"What sort of storm?"

[syncopath]

He looked at her. "The first of many. This planet is soon to experience its very own Ice Age. Of a kind."

He watched her dress, opened his mouth as if he would say more, but shut it with a snap, looking past her at the ruined city.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She finished, and approached him. After a moment, she offered her hand.

"We should find shelter," she said quietly.

[syncopath]

"I killed it," he said abruptly, still staring out at the rubble. "This planet. This civilization... I thought I could control it." The Master laughed a little, aghast at his candor. It was as if the words wouldn't stop flooding out of him.

He looked down at her hand as if he wasn't sure what it really was. He felt adrift.

[twood-rose.livejournal.com]

She watched his confession in silence. When he looked down at their hands, she squeezed his gently.

"How long ago?"

[syncopath]

The Master flinched a little when she squeezed. "What does that matter?" he asked, a trifle irritated. It was a failure, and he did not ever admit to failure.

He shook his head as if to dispel any trace of nagging conscience. "They did it to themselves, in the end. Just needed a push, I suppose. Couldn't stop them if I tried."