Wanting and getting were often two very different things. Sometimes one got what one thought one wanted, only to discover that it wasn't really what one wanted at all.
Case in point: Sex with a Time Lord.
Tegan wanted to have sex with a Time Lord. Gods above, how she wanted that. She wanted the Doctor as she'd never wanted any man in her life, never mind alien biology and wandering the universe without a clue as to how to get her back home no matter how hard he tried…until suddenly he managed it, curse him. She wanted him, desired him, burned for him, even after he'd dumped her off like a package at Heathrow. Screwing a Time Lord, she'd told herself with a bitter chuckle, was all she wanted for Christmas, even after she'd returned to the TARDIS and then promptly ran away from him for what she thought was the last time.
Funny how Fate listened to the words and ignored the intent behind them.
Funny how it was the Master who'd somehow conceived a desire for her and was looking at her with burning eyes, with a bulge in the front of his black velvet singlet that showed exactly how similar Traken males were to humans.
Funny how he was a Time Lord in mind and spirit but not in body, yet Fate seemed to think that was enough of an answer to her silent desires to satisfy her.
No, not funny. Not funny at all.
Tegan backed away from the Master, stopping short as she rammed herself against the edge of the TARDIS console. "Stay away from me," she whispered hoarsely, one hand groping behind her, pressing desperately at buttons and yanking on random levers in hopes of causing the TARDIS to go haywire, for the inertial dampers to be compromised enough for the time machine to go spinning out of control and give the Master something else to think about while she scarpered through the interior doors and made herself scarce long enough for this sudden infatuation to burn itself out.
For the Master to return to regarding her as a rather simple-minded pet of the Doctor's, rather than the attractive woman she knew herself to be. Time enough for her to find clothes less revealing than the short, clingy red dress she was currently wearing, the one she'd donned for a night out clubbing with her friends when she'd opened her front door and found an enemy from her past confronting her in all his maniacal glory.
She'd screamed, of course, to no avail; his hand had covered her mouth instantly, his body pressed against hers, forcing her back into the untidy flat she currently resided in. The flat her friend Alice had already vacated for the night when her boyfriend had picked up an hour earlier.
It was the outfit that had sparked this sudden insanity in the Master; it had to be. She'd run around space and time in heels and short skirts and he'd never shown sexual interest in her before. But this outfit, this tight red dress with its low-cut halter top, exposed back, and micro-mini skirt, had to be the culprit. This dress and the matching red spike-heeled, open-toed shoes must have been the catalyst to the Master's sudden, otherwise inexplicable attack of lust.
He admitted as much after wrestling her into submission and forcing her to accompany him to his TARDIS, parked in blatant defiance of logic on the short strip of lawn that fronted her ground-story flat. He hadn't even disguised it with his usual attempts at camouflage, just left it looking like a short, squat pyramid. Nothing to raise eyebrows on the grounds of an overpriced manor home in the country, but not quite the thing in her quiet, slightly down-at-the-heels London neighborhood.
But it was night, and he wasn't going to be sticking around very long. Just long enough to force her to accompany him. The bastard. Just long enough to let her know what she was in for.
"I was going to use you in quite a different way," had been his first words to her as the TARDIS doors closed behind them. Words purred into her ear as he continued to hold her tightly against his chest. As she felt him rubbing what felt suspiciously like an erection up against her buttocks and the first fluttering of true panic in her mind. "To lure the Doctor into a rather clever trap I've concocted." He rubbed up against again her as he spoke that word, and Tegan swallowed down a burst of panic at the obvious double entendre. Not subtle, not the Master. Not this time. "However, Miss Jovanka, that fetching little ensemble of yours has given me quite a different idea of how I might pass some time with you."
He'd manhandled her closer to the TARDIS console, pressed a few buttons, watched as the rotor began its up-and-down movement, then started to move away from it after tapping one final button and pushing a nondescript little lever to one side.
That was when she'd broken free, spun around and backed herself up against that very console. That was when she'd ordered him away from her, when her hand began its desperate movements behind her back, as he regarded her out of cold eyes, lips formed into a semi-amused smile that boded not well for her. "The Doctor…" she began, trying for defiance, only to stop as he shook his head and took a single step toward her.
"The Doctor…what?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in sardonic inquiry. "Will save you? Will stop me? How? How will he find us? We're in the Void, my dear. Not near any galactic trouble spots, not doing anything to give our presence away to that meddlesome pest. Oh, once we land somewhere and I decide what to do with you after I've had my fun, no doubt he'll show up like the bad penny he's always been…"
"Like the bad penny you'vealways been," she corrected him in acid tones, finally stopping her frantic attempts to sabotage the TARDIS console. Likely he had it locked against her; no buttons or knobs or dials she touched seemed to do anything at all. "Look, why are you bothering with me? Just send me back home, I'm useless to you. He's given up on me, shook hands good-bye and let me go on my way. He'll never show up in my life again."
"And that kills you, doesn't it," the Master replied, taking another step forward, then another, pouncing as Tegan tried to dart past him, pulling her back into his embrace, spinning her so she was half-leaning over the TARDIS console, arms pinned to her sides as the Master pressed himself against her backside again.
One hand slid up to cup her left breast, his breath hot on her cheek as he murmured into her ear: "It kills you that he just…let you go. Shaking hands, indeed, when all you wanted was for him to kiss you like he meant it, to take you in his arms and overpower you with his needs. Needs," he added in a slightly louder tone, "that he obviously didn't actually have. What a pity, to waste someone as passionate as you on mere companionship."
She shivered; how dare he, how dare the Master understand her so damned well? It was an affront, more of an affront than his intention of raping her, than the touch of his body so intimately against hers, his hand still cupping her breast, fingers kneading the nipple while his other arm continued to hold her arms clamped tightly against her sides. "It wasn't like that," she mustered the strength to spit out.
He laughed; he actually chuckled as his fingers continued their surprisingly gentle movements, sliding beneath the thin fabric of her dress to bring themselves into direct contact with her skin. "Oh, Tegan, don't lie to me," he chided her in a voice as gentle and seductive as his movements. "Don't lie to me, and don't lie to yourself. You know you wanted him, that you want him still. I may not have the telepathic skills I once did, but Trakenites are very empathic, and I can feel your emotions as clearly as I can read your body language. Just admit it and be done with it."
"No!" she cried out, once again attempting to wrench herself free of his grasp, once again stopping a sob in her throat, forcing herself not to allow the stinging tears in the corners of her eyes to fall. "Let me go, you bastard!"
"Not until you've admitted the truth," he said, easing his tight grip on her arms, the better to slide his second hand under her dress and cup her right breast as he had the left. She felt his lips on her neck and shuddered, terrified and yet, somehow, incredibly, aroused at the same time. If he was telling the truth about Traken empathy, he'd know that and use it and that terrified her even more. He had to feel how hard her heart was pounding in her chest, the trembling in her knees, and she damned herself for knowing that it wasn't just from terror.
"You want this to be someone else, don't you," he murmured. "You wish it was the Doctor touching you." He squeezed both breasts, thumbs idly rubbing against her nipples; it was the cold and fear, she told herself, that hardened the nubs beneath his touch. Nothing else. What else could it be? "You wanted his hands on you, his body against yours." He kissed the side of her neck again, nipping it lightly with his teeth before continuing: "You wanted him inside you, you wanted him to kiss you, to lick you, to make love to you…"
He fell silent with those words, lips engaged in trailing a line of kisses and light nips along her neck, down to her shoulder, fingers continuing to tease her nipples, erection pressing against her backside.
She should take advantage of his loosened grip, should shove herself away from him and run as far and as fast as she could.
She should, but something inside her wouldn't allow the movement. Something inside her caused her to stay, frozen, as the Master's hands and lips slipped lower on her body, as he shoved the short skirt up over her hips, as he pulled the black panties down until they fell around her ankles.
She moved then, but only to kick the panties aside, reaching for the TARDIS console once again, but only to balance herself as the Master's lips trailed down her body to the backs of her thighs. Her next movement came with a shudder of disgust and desire; the Master turned his face up between her legs, and she moved them apart, just a little, just enough.
Surrender was complete, and she still didn't know why; it was as if the most basic, primal part of her was in control, forcing her intellect aside in its eagerness for fornication.
Sex with her worst enemy, with a man out of her nightmares. Disgusting. Intriguing. Hateful.
Seductive.
His lips, his tongue, were busy between her legs, tasting her, nibbling at her, licking her, and God help her, meeting a slick wetness she never in a million years would have expected to feel. Not because of him. No, because of the idea of the Doctor doing such things to her; that had to be the reason, she told herself in the short time she was able to think anything at all.
His tongue darting out to taste her, his lips against her most intimate female center. The Doctor being the one to shorten her breathing, quicken her heart rate, cause the sweat to gather and drip from her brow, down her spine. The Doctor causing her legs to tremble, her mouth to cry out in increasing pleasure. The Doctor's head between her legs, the Doctor's fingers sliding in and out of her, increasing in rhythm and movement until she felt herself on the brink of a climax, practically screaming for him to bring her over the edge, then screaming indeed as she felt herself reach that edge and slide over it, falling and falling as her body shook and shuddered and the Master raised himself back to his feet.
She was still hazy with the afterglow, still feeling the effects of that terrifying, cataclysmic orgasm when the Master rubbed against her backside again. Naked, suddenly, his erection sliding between her legs. "You wish it was he, you want it to be he," he whispered, then thrust into her with sudden force. "Say it, Tegan. Admit it." Another thrust upward, bringing a whimper from her lips. "Admit it."
She shook her head in silent denial, but the Master would not be denied. "Say it," he ordered her, his voice turning harsh even as his movements became rougher. He cupped her breasts in his hands again, this time pinching her nipples viciously. "Say it!"
She cried out in pain as his movements became even harder, as he rammed himself into her time and again, biting down on the corner of her neck and shoulder. Pain, but still pleasure mixed in there, somehow; how? She'd never liked it rough, at least, not this rough, not as rough as the Master was now forcing on her. How could she still be feeling this mounting pleasure pulsing through her body, radiating from her female center to all parts of her, bringing this tingle to her spine, her fingertips, her toes…How?
She cried out again as the Master squeezed one breast, hard. "Say it," he demanded, and suddenly she could no longer deny anything.
"Yes," she whispered. "God, yes. I want him. I want this to be him. I wish you were him, right now. I hate you, you bastard!" Her voice rose until the final words were a near-scream of anger.
With those words, she felt herself shuddering toward another climax, and rode the wave as the Master continued to push into her, hard, vicious movements that brought tears to her eyes even as she shrieked her pleasure aloud. Then he was finally stopping, shuddering to a halt of his own, forehead pressed against the back of her neck, no noise, simply the feel of him releasing himself into her and the sudden stillness of the rest of his body.
He'd let go of her, his hands next to hers on the disabled TARDIS console. With no words, no indication of his intention, he pulled out of her and away, leaving her leaning where she stood, shivering at the sudden sensation of cold caused by their separation.
Leaving her alone while he dressed himself with neat precision, wiping himself off with her black panties before dropping them disdainfully back to the floor.
"Well," he said as she finally regained enough presence of mind to yank her dress back into place, "that was highly informative."
Tegan gaped at him. Highly informative? Really? Was that all he had to say? Suddenly all her pent up anger and fury and self-loathing boiled over, and she ran to him, fingers clawed, kicking and screaming and doing her best to gouge his eyes out of his smug, self-satisfied head.
He shoved her aside with ease, knocking her to the floor, where she glared up at him. "Bastard," she snarled, knowing she sounded as ineffectual as she felt. Shame flooded her; how could she have allowed this to happen, how could she have let him do those things to her, let alone responded to them as she had?
Apparently the Master was feeling expansive enough to explain, much to her horror. "Empathy works both ways, my dear," he said, squatting on his haunches and looking into her eyes with an expression of detached amusement. "I merely took your repressed desire for the Doctor and amplified it until you couldn't control it. Then I used it, as I used you. If you weren't so passionate a creature, it wouldn't have worked nearly so well as it did," he added musingly. Then he clapped his hands together and jumped back to his feet. "But fun time's over, at least for now. Time to decide your future."
She launched herself at him again, teeth snapping as she aimed for his jugular. He had a harder time pushing her away than he had before, but ultimately the result was the same. This time he twisted her arms behind her back and frog-marched her into the TARDIS proper, thrusting her into a room that had no handle on the inside of the door, effectively locking her in as he slammed it shut behind her. She threw herself at the cold metal portal, to no avail, then pounded on it with fists and feet, screaming at him to let her go, tears streaming down her cheeks at the thought of how she'd been used. Vowing vengeance that she knew, deep in her heart, might never be hers to mete out.
This is really meant as a one-shot but if anyone thinks it should be continued I'll certainly do so.