fic_of_fork: (Default)
[personal profile] fic_of_fork
Word Count:  2726
Summary:  An unlikely alliance happens when two enemies are forced to work together.
Warnings:  Here there be smut.
Rating: R
Characters:  Jo, the Master (Delgado era), Three
Genre:  shag-or-die, het
Author's Note:  You can blame [ profile] clocketpatch for this one.  She dared me to write a Jo/Master shag-or-die fic.  I have to admit, was an interesting creative problem.  Thanks to [ profile] mtemplar_fic and [ profile] persiflage_1 for looking over this. 
Disclaimer:  I don't own Doctor Who, Torchwood, Bernice Summerfield, or any of its characters, and I'm receiving no profit from this beyond the joy of writing.

The Master fumed, although his demeanor wouldn't let him show it.  He had manipulated himself into being named Serene Emperor of the Twelve Cerulean Mountains, only to find himself manipulated into a situation beyond his control.  Although it sounded impressive, the planet he was currently stuck on was a bit of a backwater, and the native population made the Time Lords look practically metropolitan.  This world was one of the largest producers of the material used in the fluid links of his time capsule, which had inconveniently sprung a rather large leak.  He had to appease his new people, since they would form the slave force necessary to mine the quantities of raw ore then refine it into something he could use.  And so he found himself trapped in a luxuriously appointed chamber with a large bed taking up most of the room's empty space.  There were mirrors that lined the walls—one way glass, he knew, so that the proper rites could be observed and verified.

The door opened, and two guards thrust a struggling woman in with him.  “Oh just lovely,” Jo muttered.  “Stuck in a cell with you.”

“The feeling, Miss Grant, is mutual,” the Master responded with a slight bow.  He stooped to examine the lock.  Of course it was deadlock sealed. 

“If you think I'm marrying you, you're mad.  Absolutely mad,” Jo fumed.

“You wouldn't be my first choice, either.”

“Did they mean what they said?”

The Master straightened and faced Jo, who was now sitting on the bed, with her legs crossed.  Dressed in a sky blue dress and matching knee-length boots, she looked as if she were going to a party, not an excursion to another planet.  If she were here, the Doctor would not be far behind, he knew.  He wasn't certain what he dreaded more—that their only hope was him rescuing them, or that he would be too late.

“The Emperor must wed before ascending to the throne,” the Master explained.  “Or he is to be sacrificed with a virgin at sunrise.”

“And by 'wed,' they mean...”  The Master shuddered.  “At least we're in agreement, there,” Jo continued.

“Of course They would send the Doctor here,” the Master growled.  “I'm sure They're reveling in my humiliation.”

“With your people watching and them,” Jo said while pointing at those gathered behind the mirrors for the honor of witnessing the Emperor's wedding night, “I feel as if they should at least tip us afterward.”

The Master allowed himself a chuckle, but hoped it didn't betray his slight worry.  “Where did you say they had taken the Doctor?”

“To the outer dungeon, I think?”  Jo said. 

“That will take him hours to escape from,” the Master replied.

There was an awkward pause, then Jo stuttered:  “So... um... Why did they assume I'm--you know...”

“You're wearing blue,” the Master explained.  “Something married women never do.”

“And by 'married' they mean--”

“Hasn't had relations,” the Master interrupted.

“So we're going to have to--”  Jo couldn't bear to finish the sentence, and neither could the Master.

The two of them sat in tense silence, until the bed creaked as Jo uncrossed her legs and began removing her boots.  “So it's either wait for the Doctor—who could be too late, or we get this over with.  If we don't do it before morning, they kill both of us.”

The Master reluctantly made his way to the bed and sat next to Jo then tugged at his own boot.  “I'd like to make clear--” he began.

“--this doesn't mean anything,” Jo finished.  They both allowed themselves a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed.  “You know, I'm really not a...  Well, that is to say, I've got some experience,” Jo blurted out.

“Why, Miss Grant!”  the Master responded with heavy sarcasm.

“And you?”  Jo asked discreetly.

The Master hurriedly spat out with some awkwardness, “No, not my first time.”  He placed his jacket neatly over a nearby chair.

“Okay, good.  Nobody's first time should be like this,” Jo babbled.  “Not even yours.”

The Master was momentarily shocked that Jo would be thinking of his comfort.  In silence, he unbuttoned his shirt and placed it on the chair with his jacket.  His undershirt soon joined his other clothing on the chair, as he sat on the foot of the bed, half-undressed.

Jo boggled and noticed to her horror that the Master was handsome.  He wasn't overly muscular—not that the bodybuilder type ever appealed to her—but he was well defined.  She had pictured him puny and pale in the times when their paths had crossed and she'd had time to speculate, but she didn't expect him to be remotely attractive.  Her hand gently caressed his chest from one side to another, feeling both of his hearts speed up slightly underneath her touch.  Catching herself, she jerked her hand away and spun around, while pulling her hair aside.

“Would you mind getting my zipper?”  she asked.

The Master obliged, noting how the tingle of her heat slowly dissipated from his skin.  He undid the zipper in the back of Jo's dress and his breath caught at the sight of her exposed neck and shoulders.  He wanted to touch the unbroken line of creamy white skin, and before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, feeling the fire beneath her skin.

He jumped up from the bed and turned his back to Jo, while fidgeting with the buckle of his belt.  Mercifully, it released, and then his belt, trousers, and underwear were placed on the chair with the rest of his clothes.  When he turned around, Jo was lying naked on top of it.

“I don't suppose they'd give us a blanket or at least dim the lights?”  she asked.

“It has to be witnessed,” the Master explained, as he took his place on the bed next to Jo.  “With evidence.”

“So in other words, no quick hand job for you under the covers, and they need to see the wet spot,” she said.  “You make me bleed, and it'll be the last shag you ever have.”

Propped on an elbow, the Master looked aghast at Jo.  “What kind of savage do you take me for?”

Jo relaxed then let her eyes wander along the Master's body.  “You look like any other bloke,” she said.

The Master rolled his eyes.  “Quite the flatterer you are, Miss--”

“Oh please,” she said.  “I think you can call me Jo.  And how am I supposed to know what a Time Lord looks like under his knickers?”  Jo's eyes found their way along the Master's body, and she couldn't stop herself from blurting, “Well at least you're attractive.”

Amused, the Master retorted, “I'm thankful I won't have to resort to fantasy, myself.”

“Hey!” Jo snapped.

“Although human,” the Master observed.  “But that can't be helped.”

“Well, if it weren't a question of life or death this human would have better offers on her Saturday night.”

The Master smirked at Jo, then pulled her closer to him, first grazing his lips over hers, then indulging in a slow kiss that oozed sensuality.  He smelled her alien, earthen scent delicately change to something more musk-like.  Breaking off, Jo's skin became flushed, and her breath quicker.

There was something tantalizing to the Master that he was indulging in something the Doctor forbade himself, much less with one of the Doctor's famed companions.  While their bodies were apart, the Master could feel Jo's heat flowing from her body towards his, an area of higher energy seeking a lower one, the law of thermodynamics, of physical laws mapped to the space between their bodies.  His mind raced with equations describing other laws, the law of attraction of opposites as Jo kissed him, tentatively at first, but then bolder, her tongue parting his lips, gently caressing.  Then he returned her kiss, stronger, thrusting his tongue, dominating and feeling her body arch against his.  Jo broke off first, her inferior human physiology needing to breathe. 

He could feel her breath come quicker and her pulse—so much faster than either of his—pound hard in the veins beneath her skin.  She pushed herself closer to him, tilting her head for another kiss, but he denied her, kissing her softly, almost chastely, then pulling away, making her ache for more.

Before he could lean again and take another kiss, he was aware of Jo's hand, tracing a line from his collarbone with a fingernail, a smirk appearing on her face as his breath involuntarily caught as she slowly traced a line along his collarbone, down his body, along a hip, and stopping just short of his groin, lightly teasing the delicate skin just before his hair.  As she reclined, smiling at him, he was completely seduced by the way she had stolen her passion away from him, turning it back upon him, and making him quiver underneath her touch, nearly making him beg.

No matter what he did, she controlled his passion, guiding him with her body, urging him on with her gasps.  He was blinded by his desire to satiate his own passion, but also to increase hers.  He was dizzied by how easily she dominated him, bending him to her will, his pleasure entwined with hers.  Every time he inched his groin closer to hers, she slid slightly away, teasing him as he had teased her.  Until finally, her hand lightly slid along his shaft and brushed the exposed head.

Her touch sent an electric surge through his body, and he cried out, a woman's name he hadn't uttered in a long time ripped from his lips.  Shocked back into the present, raw from memory, the Master pulled away from Jo and rolled over.

“It's okay,” Jo said.  “I've been called worse.”  She placed a hand in the small of his back, but when there was no response, Jo began to understand, removed her hand, and pulled herself into a cross-legged position.  At the movement, the Master rolled over.

“Let's stop,” Jo announced, although the Master could see the disappointment in her eyes.  “It's not worth it, if someone gets hurt.”  She played with a pillow and hugged it close.  “Look, I've been used before, and it's a truly awful feeling.  I'm not going to do it to another person—not even to you.  We can try to get out of here on our own.  I've certainly been locked up enough times.”

“How could she have known?”  the Master wondered to himself.   But old wounds were replaced with curiosity and admiration.  Jo would deny herself and him.  He barely thought humans capable of that kind of self-control.  In spite of himself, he reached out and stroked her spine with the back of his fingers, enjoying how she shivered at his touch. 

Jo laid down on the bed facing the Master once more.  “Are you certain about this?”  she asked.

To answer her question, he kissed her, pulling away to let her take a breath, then reengaging when she was refreshed.  Another equation began to form in the Master's mind.  This time it was the elegant and beautiful mathematics that balanced two stars against each other—two masses neither opposing nor attracting, simply at rest, at peace with each other.  Again they kissed and caressed each other, but both were dominant and submissive, one with the other, one ascending, while the other descended.

He pushed Jo over onto her back, and she pulled him on top of her.  “Let's give them what they came for,” Jo said with a wry grin.

With a minimum of slightly awkward fumbling and positioning, he eased himself into her, intending to give her a chance to adjust to his lower temperature.  But before he could complete the motion, Jo locked her legs around him and pulled him deeply into her.  Gasping, the Master was overwhelmed by the sudden warmth, taking deep breaths  to control himself.  Control regained, they moved together, a kind of gentle rocking, as if the rest of the universe didn't matter.  They were the center of their own domain—one punctuated with giggles and slight pauses to accommodate cramped limbs. 

With each thrust, Jo's body guided him deeper, while Jo grew accustomed to the cooler body entwined with hers, feeling her heat penetrate him.  Her nails raked his back, trying to pull him even deeper into her as she felt a tension and pleasure in her body increase.  Everywhere their bodies touched tingled, and their movements became more erratic, less calm, until finally each of them gasped and cried out in blissful release.  Panting, they collapsed next to each other, still giddy and glowing from the experience. 


Jo bolted upright on the bed, wincing at the pins and needles in her arm, where it had been trapped underneath another body.  She startled for a moment, then remembered where she was, as the body next to her was dislodged by her sudden movement and began to wake.

Jo jabbed the Master in the ribs with an elbow.  “Wake up!  The Doctor could be here any minute!”

Both froze, still naked on the bed, with the lingering scent of their activities in the air, as there was a click from the door.  Three hearts resumed beating, as they both exhaled the breath that caught in their throats.

“That would be the vizier to release us,” the Master explained.

“Good thing,” Jo replied.  “You know about what happened tonight?”

“I won't speak of it,” the Master promised.

“Me nether,” Jo replied.  “Not that it was bad!”  she reassured him.  “But...  Oh God, can you imagine what Mike Yates or Benton would say, if they found out?  We'd never live it down!”

“Some things scarcely bear consideration,” the Master agreed, as they hastily pulled on their forgotten bits of clothing.  With a hand from the Master, Jo was once again zipped up into her dress, and her boots were pulled on.

They paused at the doorway.  Seconds they didn't have lengthened into awkward minutes, and both examined their shoes, neither daring to look at each other or the unkempt bed that was carefully being examined for proof of their passion.  After what seemed like an agonizing eternity, the sheet and tell-tale stain was proudly held up to the mirrored walls.

Both Jo and the Master felt their cheeks burn red, as the officials who had performed the examination exited and congratulated them.  Nervously, they shifted on their feet, wondering if they should hug, shake hands, or kiss.  They finally agreed upon a short kiss.

“Guess I'll go rescue the Doctor,” Jo said.

“My kingdom awaits,” the Master added.

As Jo left, she called back into the room, “I'm sure you're like any other bloke, and I won't so much as get flowers the next day...”


Yawning, what was the next morning to everyone else, but far later for her, Jo walked into the Doctor's laboratory, “fashionably late,” as she called it, all while hoping the Brigadier hadn't noticed her tardiness and responded with one of his lectures about duty and responsibility.  The Doctor stood before a table, and on top of the table was a small bouquet of flowers.   “It seems you have an admirer.” 

“Oh?”  Jo asked, trying to hide her grin.

“There's no card,” the Doctor responded.  “But seeing how it's arranged—with a doily and wrapped with a silk ribbon, I'd say your mysterious friend is well acquainted with Victorian flower customs.  Obviously yellow roses are for friendship, as are the pear-blossoms.  Hideous things, pears.  And rosemary for remembrance and dark pink roses for gratitude.”

“Really, Doctor?”  Jo said, hoping the Doctor would notice her feigned sincerity.  She swept the bouquet off the table and gave it a sniff, enjoying their fragrance.  Before the Doctor could speculate further, she skipped down the hall in search of a vase and water.

Date: 2010-05-30 10:25 am (UTC)
ext_3965: (3 Liz Up Close)
From: [identity profile]
*grins* This is awkwardly sweet and very amusing. And I love the fact that the Master actually DID send her flowers!

Date: 2010-05-30 06:22 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Hee thanks! Yeah, Delgado/Master could be a perfectly charming psychopath. Plus tweaking the Doctor? Hell yeah, he'd send her flowers. :)

Date: 2010-05-30 06:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I think Delgado/Master would be gentleman enough not to bring it up...but he'd have to poke the Doctor with whatever stick he could. :)

Date: 2010-05-30 06:37 pm (UTC)
ext_3965: (Time Rotor)
From: [identity profile]
Oh definitely - Doctor baiting IS the Master's favourite hobby after all...

Date: 2010-05-31 08:31 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Aw, this Master is the Best Master. Such a gentleman. I like Jo suddenly noticing the Master is atractive. I really liked the character voices.

Date: 2010-05-31 08:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Thanks! I think they'd somewhat enjoy themselves, if they could manage to be adults about the situation. :)

Date: 2010-06-02 03:38 am (UTC)
clocketpatch: A small, innocent-looking red alarm clock, stuck forever at 10 to 7. (Default)
From: [personal profile] clocketpatch
*makes incoherent stuttering noises*

Favourite part: “Okay, good. Nobody's first time should be like this,” Jo babbled. “Not even yours.”

Jo is dead on. The Master is at his gentlemanly best. And the Victorian flower language at the end was a sparkling touch. I kept thinking you were going to end it with the Doctor walking in on them gag but you soared above that. Also, I love that the whole situation was, ultimately, the Master's fault. Because it would be. (and those meddling Time Lords who never stopped bothering Three!)

Date: 2010-06-02 03:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
*grins* I think if Jo and the Master could be adults about the whole thing that they might actually enjoy themselves (to their horror.)

Hrm. Didn't want to write the Doctor interrupting them because my take on the whole Three/Jo relationship was that he was way more interested than she was (kind of an inverse of Ten and Martha.) That angst wasn't exactly the kind of angst I wanted. Much more fun to embarrass characters with stained sheets. ;)


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