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order_of_chaosTitle: A Justification for the Existence of Retcon (at least in Owen's opinion)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
order_of_chaos
Characters/Pairing: The Master/Owen Harper, Myfanwy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sex. Or is that porn?
AN: Forwendymr, because she asked for it.
***
“You bloody wanker! Get off me!”
The Master bites him, distractingly. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and it’s disgustingly unfair. It always makes his brain short-circuit, and the smirk with which the Master explains that he fully intends to get him off doesn’t help matters either.
Owen moans, but doesn’t stop struggling even when the Time Lord sinks his teeth in hard enough that it comes close to not being fun anymore. “I said no, damn it. We are not having sex in front of the pterodactyl.”
The Master pouts. “But she’s so cute. And she likes it.” He turns to Myfanwy and flutters his eyelashes. “Don’t you, precious?”
The squawked reply sounds disturbingly like a yes.
The Master sticks his hand down Owen’s pants and strokes strategically, several times. Then he stops. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?”
Owen swears. “Okay, fine. But you’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”
“Awwwww.”
“If you’re good, I’ll even join you. It’s not like the bed here’s much more comfortable.”
And then there is sex.
(It’s good sex, too – even the pterodactyl agrees.)
The end.
Author:
order_of_chaosCharacters/Pairing: The Master/Owen Harper, Myfanwy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sex. Or is that porn?
AN: For
wendymr, because she asked for it.***
“You bloody wanker! Get off me!”
The Master bites him, distractingly. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and it’s disgustingly unfair. It always makes his brain short-circuit, and the smirk with which the Master explains that he fully intends to get him off doesn’t help matters either.
Owen moans, but doesn’t stop struggling even when the Time Lord sinks his teeth in hard enough that it comes close to not being fun anymore. “I said no, damn it. We are not having sex in front of the pterodactyl.”
The Master pouts. “But she’s so cute. And she likes it.” He turns to Myfanwy and flutters his eyelashes. “Don’t you, precious?”
The squawked reply sounds disturbingly like a yes.
The Master sticks his hand down Owen’s pants and strokes strategically, several times. Then he stops. “Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?”
Owen swears. “Okay, fine. But you’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”
“Awwwww.”
“If you’re good, I’ll even join you. It’s not like the bed here’s much more comfortable.”
And then there is sex.
(It’s good sex, too – even the pterodactyl agrees.)
The end.
