If you don't already hate me, you will now.
Secrets of a Time Lord by reserve and x_los
Ten/Simm!Master/Mudkips
486 word, R
A/N: In lieu of an actual explanation, our conversation began something like this --
x_los: "I'mma write mudkip fic, just for jooooo"
reserve: Mudkip/Ten/Master!Sound of Music?
x_los: Except since it's me and I'm on a kick? it may be Doctor/Master/Mudkip...OMG STOP SEALING MY THOUGHTS
reserve: I AM IN UR HED!
"So, I herd you liek Mudkps," said the Master, sneeringly.
"I" the Doctor swallowed. "I don't know what to say."
"Oh I don't need you to say anything."
"What...what?" The Doctor went momentarily googly-eyed, then: "Who told you?" he whispered, seemingly on the brink of big beautiful emo tears.
"I have my sources," replied the Master, thinking of that somewhat forced evening he'd spent with Rose Tyler over a bottle of Boone's Farm 'All the Way from AMERICA' and some Twinkies covered in chocolate sauce in her parallel world. Once that bitch's metabolism kicked in at about thirty and she looked like her mother, only with poutier lips, she was bound to regret attempting to out chip-eat the universe's ultimate metabolic rate. And she'd gotten eye makeup all over his best white dress shirt. Trollop.
"Sources?" The Doctor squeaked out, then rubbed at the back of his neck until it was red and raw. Rather like the Master wanted his ass to be.
"You know, big, powerful gushing fonts of information." The Master took a step closer. "Unless you want the entire galaxy to share my wisdom via Archangel, I suggest you tell me more about your cute little fixation. In detail."
"Fonts? Gushing? Fixation?" The Doctor's voice pitched an octave higher.
"Right on all counts," the Master indulged him. "How well you know me."
"Oh, god." The Doctor's eyelids fluttered in a delightfully stupid way. He could almost feel the Maser's breath on his skin. It was just too much. "Ilovemudkips," he mumbled.
The Master whipped a plushy out of ..well.. thin air and purred, "say that again."
The Doctor swallowed. "I LOVE MUDKIPZ" he whimpered loudly, gangly body folding at the knees under the downward press of the Master's hand on his shoulder.
"What else do you love?" The Master's eyes glinted, bright blue, like the skin of a Mudkip, as he pressed the Doctor's hand to his suit trousers to feel his hardness, stiff like the head-crest of a Mudkip.
The Doctor's face joined his hand, and he moaned helplessly against the Master's fabric covered crotch, his hand stroking hardness he found there, his lips forming a blissful 'Oh." "Mudkipzzzzzzz," he breathed.
"That's it, Doctor." The Master rubbed the unfathomably soft plushy on the Doctor's emaciated cheek-- did he never eat? Well, other than during their little trysts, naturally-- noting how the Doctor's mouthing got more frantic as the Master stroked the plushie harder, quicker across his skin. He'd finally figured out the secret to getting the Doctor to willingly succumb to his charms, and to be honest, after that business with the Magna Carta he couldn't even claim it was the most ridiculous thing he'd done in the pursuit of sweet, inevitably weird, completely worth it Doctor-on-cock action.
"I herd u leik mudkipz?!" The Master breathed as the Doctor finally got a clue and started on the buttons.
"I LOOoOOOOooooOOOOVE MUDKIPZ."
If you're not sure about this whole "mudkip" bizniz, might I suggest the helpful hooligans over at Encyclopedia Dramatica? In lulz they trust. And I should probably note that until this afternoon, neither one of us knew WTF a Mudkip was.
Ten/Simm!Master/Mudkips
486 word, R
A/N: In lieu of an actual explanation, our conversation began something like this --
x_los: "I'mma write mudkip fic, just for jooooo"
reserve: Mudkip/Ten/Master!Sound of Music?
x_los: Except since it's me and I'm on a kick? it may be Doctor/Master/Mudkip...OMG STOP SEALING MY THOUGHTS
reserve: I AM IN UR HED!
"So, I herd you liek Mudkps," said the Master, sneeringly.
"I" the Doctor swallowed. "I don't know what to say."
"Oh I don't need you to say anything."
"What...what?" The Doctor went momentarily googly-eyed, then: "Who told you?" he whispered, seemingly on the brink of big beautiful emo tears.
"I have my sources," replied the Master, thinking of that somewhat forced evening he'd spent with Rose Tyler over a bottle of Boone's Farm 'All the Way from AMERICA' and some Twinkies covered in chocolate sauce in her parallel world. Once that bitch's metabolism kicked in at about thirty and she looked like her mother, only with poutier lips, she was bound to regret attempting to out chip-eat the universe's ultimate metabolic rate. And she'd gotten eye makeup all over his best white dress shirt. Trollop.
"Sources?" The Doctor squeaked out, then rubbed at the back of his neck until it was red and raw. Rather like the Master wanted his ass to be.
"You know, big, powerful gushing fonts of information." The Master took a step closer. "Unless you want the entire galaxy to share my wisdom via Archangel, I suggest you tell me more about your cute little fixation. In detail."
"Fonts? Gushing? Fixation?" The Doctor's voice pitched an octave higher.
"Right on all counts," the Master indulged him. "How well you know me."
"Oh, god." The Doctor's eyelids fluttered in a delightfully stupid way. He could almost feel the Maser's breath on his skin. It was just too much. "Ilovemudkips," he mumbled.
The Master whipped a plushy out of ..well.. thin air and purred, "say that again."
The Doctor swallowed. "I LOVE MUDKIPZ" he whimpered loudly, gangly body folding at the knees under the downward press of the Master's hand on his shoulder.
"What else do you love?" The Master's eyes glinted, bright blue, like the skin of a Mudkip, as he pressed the Doctor's hand to his suit trousers to feel his hardness, stiff like the head-crest of a Mudkip.
The Doctor's face joined his hand, and he moaned helplessly against the Master's fabric covered crotch, his hand stroking hardness he found there, his lips forming a blissful 'Oh." "Mudkipzzzzzzz," he breathed.
"That's it, Doctor." The Master rubbed the unfathomably soft plushy on the Doctor's emaciated cheek-- did he never eat? Well, other than during their little trysts, naturally-- noting how the Doctor's mouthing got more frantic as the Master stroked the plushie harder, quicker across his skin. He'd finally figured out the secret to getting the Doctor to willingly succumb to his charms, and to be honest, after that business with the Magna Carta he couldn't even claim it was the most ridiculous thing he'd done in the pursuit of sweet, inevitably weird, completely worth it Doctor-on-cock action.
"I herd u leik mudkipz?!" The Master breathed as the Doctor finally got a clue and started on the buttons.
"I LOOoOOOOooooOOOOVE MUDKIPZ."
If you're not sure about this whole "mudkip" bizniz, might I suggest the helpful hooligans over at Encyclopedia Dramatica? In lulz they trust. And I should probably note that until this afternoon, neither one of us knew WTF a Mudkip was.