Fic: Homecoming (Who's Right #17)
Title: Homecoming
Series (Story number): Who's Right? (17)
Summary: The Master comes home from killing things and then he shags the Doctor a lot. That's about it. 50's AU.
Rating: Probably just R but I guess you can move up one along the scale to be careful, if you like?
Characters/pairings: Master/Doctor, Jacob Channing
Author's notes: This one came out of events from my character journal, moralsremitted, which is why they mention blogs. She told me not to but I still blame Leah who is a filthy enabler. Also, talking to her is what sparked the joke that led to this fic in the first place. This is my second porny thing I've ever written but I seem to have a style already which consists entirely of pressing Enter a lot and making fun of conventions. Explanation of series here.
For a week, the Master was gone and the Doctor was quite fine with this. He took the time to relax in the peace and quiet of the house, ignoring entirely anything that the Master was up to, even staying away from the internet and the blog on which the Master was far too needy all of the time.
So it was that he missed the fact that the Master had been infiltrating some sort of secret government base; that he’d blown it up; that he’d picked up a new minion/fan called Jacob Channing; that he’d been having trouble getting home.
Everything.
And the Master is not a fan of being ignored.
When the Master finally made it home, the Doctor was sitting in an armchair in the front sitting room reading a book and the Master opened the door and walked purposefully over to the Doctor who stood up.
“Ah,” said the Doctor. “Home, I see.”
“Do you have some sort of dinner ready and waiting for me?” the Master asked.
“…no?” said the Doctor. “It’s two in the morning?”
“I see,” said the Master. And lunged at him.
Jacob came in the still open door shortly after and started trying to sneak past where the Master was sitting on top of the Doctor on the floor.
He was unsuccessful in remaining unnoticed.
“There should be milk in the fridge as long as the Doctor hasn’t been slacking!” the Master yelled at him, barely looking away from the Doctor as he did so. Jacob looked at them and then at the kitchen, which unfortunately for him was open-concept like the rest of their house and existed in a steady line of view through the dining room to the sitting room where the Doctor was trapped on the floor.
“Where have you been, anyway?” the Doctor asked.
“Arizona,” said Jacob and the Master glared at the Doctor and said, “Maybe you’d know if you checked my blog once. Ever.”
"It was peaceful here," the Doctor said, trying to stay very stern and righteous as the Master unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it viciously off, forcing the Doctor to move into strange positions to try and stop his shirt from getting ripped.
Jacob continued his sidling ‘I’m-not-here’ journey past them to the fridge and quietly took out the milk and looked at it.
"Then don't ask questions if you don't want to know in the first place," said the Master and moved up to kneel-straddle the Doctor so that he could pull down the Doctor's trousers.
"Uh..." said Jacob. "Um."
"Yes, what is it, Jacob?" said the Master, sounding long-suffering. He pulled the Doctor's pants down and they got stuck with the trousers at the Doctor's feet. He'd been wearing his shoes in the house.
"Sorry sir," said Jacob, trying not to look anywhere but the Master's face. "Where are the glasses?" The Master ignored him, too busy impatiently trying to yank the trousers and pants over the shoes as he couldn't be buggered to try and untie them.
"Third cupboard away from the fridge," the Doctor said instead. He still looked a little bit cross but it had begun to degenerate into a glazed expression. "Take the plastic ones on the second shelf, the glass ones haven't really been washed properly except for the ones on the top but they're for comp-! Company."
Finally having removed all clothing from around the Doctor's ankles, the Master had just pushed the Doctor's knees up to his chest.
"Ow," said the Doctor.
"Shut up," said the Master.
"Is this okay?" asked Jacob, holding out a plastic glass.
The best he could, as the Master licked a finger and started to work it into him, the Doctor glanced over at Jacob who was holding the plastic cup at arm's length, facing the other way, and said, "Ynn-ah. Yes. That's fine."
"The cup, or me?" asked the Master, grinning wickedly, adding another finger and twisting. The Doctor whimpered. "I'd like to think I'm more than 'fine'."
"Stop fishing for compliments," gasped the Doctor.
Jacob poured himself a glass of milk and stood awkwardly at the kitchen counter, trying to act like he wasn’t there.
"I'm not fishing," said the Master. "I deserve one. Or several." He unzipped his trousers. "Hrm," he said, as he pushed his pants away from his cock, "you haven't discovered any sort of self-lubrication trick, yet, have you?"
"Oh, yes, Master, that's my priority," the Doctor snapped. "Throughout my life, the REAL thing I've tried to attain is not ways to protect the universe but is instead methods for making SEX EASIER FOR YOU."
The Master wasn't listening. "Mm," he said happily. "I-"
"Yes, I know, I used your name," said the Doctor. "Can you at least put your fingers back?"
"No," said the Master.
"Well, you're not going in DRY," said the Doctor. "No matter what sadistic pleasure you're going to get out of it, it is FAR too early in the night for that."
"I...have something you could use," said Jacob, completely failing at pretending not to be there. He clearly wasn’t a very good government agent. Or, at least, he’d never had to deal with this exact issue before.
"Good, fine," said the Master, standing up and walking over to Jacob who promptly also failed at not looking down.
"Um..." he said and then snapped to attention. "Sorry, sir! It's from when…uh, when we… It’s from the motel, sir." He went into his pocket and took out some Vaseline.
In a tub, though. Not just in his pocket.
"Good boy," said the Master, taking it.
"I'm 36, sir," said Jacob.
"Yes?" said the Master, going back over to the Doctor.
Jacob gave up and went back to his awkward milk drinking.
The Master had to push the Doctor's knees up again as he'd let his feet down while he was waiting.
"You're not allowed to get bored," said the Master.
"You can't dictate th-gggn-" said the Doctor as the Master got bored and shoved into him.
"On the contrary, Doctor, I'm the Master," said the Master. "I dictate what I want."
"S'a shit line," the Doctor gasped. "If-"
The Master shut him up again by pounding into him.
Repeatedly.
"I...should go....somewhere," said Jacob, trying not to watch.
"Room. On. The Left," said the Master. "Down. The Hall."
"Ow," said the Doctor. "Stop--pushing me backward. You're giving me RUG BURN."
"Poor baby," said the Master as Jacob made his escape.
His escape only lasted for the three minutes until the Master became bored once more and the Doctor ended up pressed against the door of his own room (where Jacob was hiding) being thoroughly sucked off.
The Doctor exhaled slowly. "If you...oh...nn. If you wash yourself off, I'll reciprocate." He pushed the Master back down as he started to stand up. "FINISH first."
Jacob wasn't certain how much of this was routine for employment with Saxon. He wished someone would tell him that he could stop doing what he'd always done in his job which consisted of pretending that nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
No one did.
Instead, the Master and Doctor ended up in the shower. A satisfactory time was had by both, especially once the Master had been washed twice, once with soap and water and the second time with the Doctor's tongue.
Although technically, that probably counted as UNwashing. The Master wasn't going to bring up the technicality, though, and neither was the Doctor, considering as his tongue was otherwise occupied.
Afterwards, still wet, skipping entirely the towelling off section of the shower, the Doctor found himself being driven into the couch.
"If it gets mildewy, you are NOT complaining when we have to buy a new one," he warned the Master.
"I can't fucking believe that you're complaining NOW," said the Master, annoyed. He contented himself with trying to increase the likelihood of the Doctor not being able to walk for a while. He thought he might be up to at least three days by now.
Five minutes later, when the Doctor had turned things around while making a point about the papers all over the Master's desk (and was really only making MORE of a mess, now, what with the Master bent over it) Jacob knocked on the doorframe.
"Uh....sorry," he said. "How much longer are you...uh... It's just because I don't know if I can keep ignoring it for much longer."
"Then don't," snapped the Doctor. "Why are you pretending it's not happening anyway?"
"Please tell me that this means we're going to get to shag him," said the Master hopefully.
Apparently it did. The Master went back to what HE allegedly did best (vicious anal sodomy) while the Doctor oral fixated his way through the best blowjob Jacob had ever received.
Which wasn't too hard as it was about his third.
Ever.
Then, leaving Jacob prone, dishevelled and satiated on the floor of the office, the Doctor and Master shagged their way through all of the other rooms in the house and for one memorable moment, the garden before collapsing, drained, onto the Master's bed.
"So...you missed me, then?" the Doctor said, snuggling into the Master's side.
"Ha," said the Master. "Hardly. I wanted a shag. Let go of me. Go back to your own room."
"No," said the Doctor. "I'm not moving."
"Maudlin twat," said the Master, frowning and pulling the blankets up around himself and the Doctor. But only because it would let the outside air in if he didn't.
"If it helps, part of the reason I can't move is because it hurts too much," said the Doctor.
"It doesn't," said the Master.
It did.
Then he put his arm around the Doctor but only because otherwise, the Doctor was lying on it and it was going to go numb. He didn't have an excuse, however, for why he threaded his fingers into the Doctor's hair once the Doctor had fallen asleep.
It was only the next day they remembered that they had left Jacob lying naked on the floor in a state of near-paralysis.
It just goes to show you can't be too careful!
END
| Previous Story|
Series (Story number): Who's Right? (17)
Summary: The Master comes home from killing things and then he shags the Doctor a lot. That's about it. 50's AU.
Rating: Probably just R but I guess you can move up one along the scale to be careful, if you like?
Characters/pairings: Master/Doctor, Jacob Channing
Author's notes: This one came out of events from my character journal, moralsremitted, which is why they mention blogs. She told me not to but I still blame Leah who is a filthy enabler. Also, talking to her is what sparked the joke that led to this fic in the first place. This is my second porny thing I've ever written but I seem to have a style already which consists entirely of pressing Enter a lot and making fun of conventions. Explanation of series here.
For a week, the Master was gone and the Doctor was quite fine with this. He took the time to relax in the peace and quiet of the house, ignoring entirely anything that the Master was up to, even staying away from the internet and the blog on which the Master was far too needy all of the time.
So it was that he missed the fact that the Master had been infiltrating some sort of secret government base; that he’d blown it up; that he’d picked up a new minion/fan called Jacob Channing; that he’d been having trouble getting home.
Everything.
And the Master is not a fan of being ignored.
When the Master finally made it home, the Doctor was sitting in an armchair in the front sitting room reading a book and the Master opened the door and walked purposefully over to the Doctor who stood up.
“Ah,” said the Doctor. “Home, I see.”
“Do you have some sort of dinner ready and waiting for me?” the Master asked.
“…no?” said the Doctor. “It’s two in the morning?”
“I see,” said the Master. And lunged at him.
Jacob came in the still open door shortly after and started trying to sneak past where the Master was sitting on top of the Doctor on the floor.
He was unsuccessful in remaining unnoticed.
“There should be milk in the fridge as long as the Doctor hasn’t been slacking!” the Master yelled at him, barely looking away from the Doctor as he did so. Jacob looked at them and then at the kitchen, which unfortunately for him was open-concept like the rest of their house and existed in a steady line of view through the dining room to the sitting room where the Doctor was trapped on the floor.
“Where have you been, anyway?” the Doctor asked.
“Arizona,” said Jacob and the Master glared at the Doctor and said, “Maybe you’d know if you checked my blog once. Ever.”
"It was peaceful here," the Doctor said, trying to stay very stern and righteous as the Master unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it viciously off, forcing the Doctor to move into strange positions to try and stop his shirt from getting ripped.
Jacob continued his sidling ‘I’m-not-here’ journey past them to the fridge and quietly took out the milk and looked at it.
"Then don't ask questions if you don't want to know in the first place," said the Master and moved up to kneel-straddle the Doctor so that he could pull down the Doctor's trousers.
"Uh..." said Jacob. "Um."
"Yes, what is it, Jacob?" said the Master, sounding long-suffering. He pulled the Doctor's pants down and they got stuck with the trousers at the Doctor's feet. He'd been wearing his shoes in the house.
"Sorry sir," said Jacob, trying not to look anywhere but the Master's face. "Where are the glasses?" The Master ignored him, too busy impatiently trying to yank the trousers and pants over the shoes as he couldn't be buggered to try and untie them.
"Third cupboard away from the fridge," the Doctor said instead. He still looked a little bit cross but it had begun to degenerate into a glazed expression. "Take the plastic ones on the second shelf, the glass ones haven't really been washed properly except for the ones on the top but they're for comp-! Company."
Finally having removed all clothing from around the Doctor's ankles, the Master had just pushed the Doctor's knees up to his chest.
"Ow," said the Doctor.
"Shut up," said the Master.
"Is this okay?" asked Jacob, holding out a plastic glass.
The best he could, as the Master licked a finger and started to work it into him, the Doctor glanced over at Jacob who was holding the plastic cup at arm's length, facing the other way, and said, "Ynn-ah. Yes. That's fine."
"The cup, or me?" asked the Master, grinning wickedly, adding another finger and twisting. The Doctor whimpered. "I'd like to think I'm more than 'fine'."
"Stop fishing for compliments," gasped the Doctor.
Jacob poured himself a glass of milk and stood awkwardly at the kitchen counter, trying to act like he wasn’t there.
"I'm not fishing," said the Master. "I deserve one. Or several." He unzipped his trousers. "Hrm," he said, as he pushed his pants away from his cock, "you haven't discovered any sort of self-lubrication trick, yet, have you?"
"Oh, yes, Master, that's my priority," the Doctor snapped. "Throughout my life, the REAL thing I've tried to attain is not ways to protect the universe but is instead methods for making SEX EASIER FOR YOU."
The Master wasn't listening. "Mm," he said happily. "I-"
"Yes, I know, I used your name," said the Doctor. "Can you at least put your fingers back?"
"No," said the Master.
"Well, you're not going in DRY," said the Doctor. "No matter what sadistic pleasure you're going to get out of it, it is FAR too early in the night for that."
"I...have something you could use," said Jacob, completely failing at pretending not to be there. He clearly wasn’t a very good government agent. Or, at least, he’d never had to deal with this exact issue before.
"Good, fine," said the Master, standing up and walking over to Jacob who promptly also failed at not looking down.
"Um..." he said and then snapped to attention. "Sorry, sir! It's from when…uh, when we… It’s from the motel, sir." He went into his pocket and took out some Vaseline.
In a tub, though. Not just in his pocket.
"Good boy," said the Master, taking it.
"I'm 36, sir," said Jacob.
"Yes?" said the Master, going back over to the Doctor.
Jacob gave up and went back to his awkward milk drinking.
The Master had to push the Doctor's knees up again as he'd let his feet down while he was waiting.
"You're not allowed to get bored," said the Master.
"You can't dictate th-gggn-" said the Doctor as the Master got bored and shoved into him.
"On the contrary, Doctor, I'm the Master," said the Master. "I dictate what I want."
"S'a shit line," the Doctor gasped. "If-"
The Master shut him up again by pounding into him.
Repeatedly.
"I...should go....somewhere," said Jacob, trying not to watch.
"Room. On. The Left," said the Master. "Down. The Hall."
"Ow," said the Doctor. "Stop--pushing me backward. You're giving me RUG BURN."
"Poor baby," said the Master as Jacob made his escape.
His escape only lasted for the three minutes until the Master became bored once more and the Doctor ended up pressed against the door of his own room (where Jacob was hiding) being thoroughly sucked off.
The Doctor exhaled slowly. "If you...oh...nn. If you wash yourself off, I'll reciprocate." He pushed the Master back down as he started to stand up. "FINISH first."
Jacob wasn't certain how much of this was routine for employment with Saxon. He wished someone would tell him that he could stop doing what he'd always done in his job which consisted of pretending that nothing out of the ordinary was happening.
No one did.
Instead, the Master and Doctor ended up in the shower. A satisfactory time was had by both, especially once the Master had been washed twice, once with soap and water and the second time with the Doctor's tongue.
Although technically, that probably counted as UNwashing. The Master wasn't going to bring up the technicality, though, and neither was the Doctor, considering as his tongue was otherwise occupied.
Afterwards, still wet, skipping entirely the towelling off section of the shower, the Doctor found himself being driven into the couch.
"If it gets mildewy, you are NOT complaining when we have to buy a new one," he warned the Master.
"I can't fucking believe that you're complaining NOW," said the Master, annoyed. He contented himself with trying to increase the likelihood of the Doctor not being able to walk for a while. He thought he might be up to at least three days by now.
Five minutes later, when the Doctor had turned things around while making a point about the papers all over the Master's desk (and was really only making MORE of a mess, now, what with the Master bent over it) Jacob knocked on the doorframe.
"Uh....sorry," he said. "How much longer are you...uh... It's just because I don't know if I can keep ignoring it for much longer."
"Then don't," snapped the Doctor. "Why are you pretending it's not happening anyway?"
"Please tell me that this means we're going to get to shag him," said the Master hopefully.
Apparently it did. The Master went back to what HE allegedly did best (vicious anal sodomy) while the Doctor oral fixated his way through the best blowjob Jacob had ever received.
Which wasn't too hard as it was about his third.
Ever.
Then, leaving Jacob prone, dishevelled and satiated on the floor of the office, the Doctor and Master shagged their way through all of the other rooms in the house and for one memorable moment, the garden before collapsing, drained, onto the Master's bed.
"So...you missed me, then?" the Doctor said, snuggling into the Master's side.
"Ha," said the Master. "Hardly. I wanted a shag. Let go of me. Go back to your own room."
"No," said the Doctor. "I'm not moving."
"Maudlin twat," said the Master, frowning and pulling the blankets up around himself and the Doctor. But only because it would let the outside air in if he didn't.
"If it helps, part of the reason I can't move is because it hurts too much," said the Doctor.
"It doesn't," said the Master.
It did.
Then he put his arm around the Doctor but only because otherwise, the Doctor was lying on it and it was going to go numb. He didn't have an excuse, however, for why he threaded his fingers into the Doctor's hair once the Doctor had fallen asleep.
It was only the next day they remembered that they had left Jacob lying naked on the floor in a state of near-paralysis.
It just goes to show you can't be too careful!
END
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