best_enemies | Rec: La Grande Mort

Annnnnd on a very different note from my last rec...

La Grande Mort

Pairing: Ten/Simm
Length: 3.5k per part
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: dub-con
Author on LJ (or Teaspoon, or Prydonian):

nemaline
Why this must be read: I'll admit to being a total sucker for pick-your-POV fics, especially when there's sex involved. There aren't enough of them in the world, they're not at all easy to write, and this fic pulls it off brilliantly. And it's hot. I mean, really hot, in that terribly twisted way that Ten and Simm do so well, where there's history and loathing and lust and need and some-very-messed-up-variety-of-love all getting mixed up and making things so very much more interesting. While this isn't remotely fluffy, to the point of consent being problematic, there's so much emotion underlying it, on both sides, that it's bittersweet instead of just heartbreaking. And hot. Have I mentioned hot? It's pretty damn hot. Next time you're in need of a PWP fix, look no further.

So he pulled away, just far enough; close enough for the Doctor to reach him, with his limited freedom of movement. Was it his imagination, he wondered, or were the Doctor’s lips a little redder? ‘Kiss me,’ he commanded.

The Doctor stayed silent, closing his mouth and looking up at him blankly. Amusing. ‘You know better than to disobey,’ he said, low and breathy, smirking a little as he toyed with the Doctor’s hair with one hand.

Slowly, reluctantly, the Doctor leant up and kissed him. The Master didn’t kiss back; if he had, the Doctor could simply have reacted, letting him lead, and he didn’t want that. Later, yes. But first, he let the Doctor kiss him, the thrill in being obeyed equal to and inseparable from the thrill of those lips on his own, the tongue brushing against them. Uncertain and unwilling at first, but he responded just enough to be encouraging and felt those lips soften on his own in return. Perfectly silent, no sound but their breathing and the drums to distract him. No sight; he’d closed his eyes. Just the feel of the Doctor’s mouth, the taste…

As soon as he thought he had softened enough, he pulled back. ‘Good Doctor,’ he said, with a smile. Now then. Time to get down, as it were, to business. But where to begin? There were far too many options. He had shifted in the course of things, so he was half-lying on top of the Doctor, nothing but his flimsy dressing gown between them, which was definitely giving him ideas.

‘Any preferences?’ he asked cheerfully.

The Doctor looked at him crossly, head falling back to the pillow. ‘I’d rather not do this at all,’ he said. How very petulant of him.

‘Oh, but you want it,’ the Master told him, propping himself up on one arm and using the other to start teasing the Doctor’s skin, just to make his point. ‘You know you do. You don’t want the inevitable grande mort, but this…’

The Doctor opened his mouth for the inevitable comeback, but didn’t make one; just pressed his lips together. For a moment the Master thought that was all he’d get, but then the Doctor closed his eyes, relaxing into the bed. Which was practically tacit permission.

Link to the story: La Grande Mort (Doctor POV) and La Grande Mort (Master POV)