((Missy x Tenth Doctor x Simm!Master threesome thread with @timetakeover moved from discord to tumblr under read more - it’s not super graphic yet, it’s just several replies long))
The Doctor was having a particularly nice dream where he was enjoying tea with Rose, Martha and Donna. He was eating a delicious scone, laughing at something Donna said, when consciousness called to him. Still mostly dreaming, he tried to rub his eyes and found that his arms couldn't move.
That woke him up quickly. He blinked awake rapidly and looked down at himself. Tied to a chair. Soft music was playing from somewhere. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was buying a coffee at a Starbucks. Had it been drugged? The barista had been oddly attentive, putting a lot of extra care into his drink. The Doctor had thought she just had a crush on him, the way she was flirting with him. It must have been a ruse to get him off guard.
He struggled with his bindings, with enough force that he nearly knocked the chair over. No good. He was trapped. He cleared his throat.
"Hello? I'm awake. If anyone wants to explain what's going on, now would be a fantastic time."
The barista crouches behind his chair, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder from behind. He responds in a pleasantly calm way for someone drugged, kidnapped, and bound to a chair against his will. So cute.
She isn't sure where to start, but she knows she needs to get to the point. Her other self is lacking in patience; she has minutes before he's going to bust in, whether she's able to set up the big reveal for him or not.
"Oh, my apologies. I've been a bit rough, haven't I? I haven't quite mastered," she emphasizes with an exaggerated wink that's lost on her captive, "this customer service stuff yet. I suppose that's why you're here. Practice. You will let me service you, won't you?"
The Doctor tries to twist his body around to see her, but he's not able to move enough to see her face. He recognizes her voice, though—the flirty barista.
"What's going on here?" he huffs, trying to push down how flustered he was by her. His knee bounced, making the chair shake slightly. "I wasn't even sticking my nose anywhere it wasn’t supposed to be, for once. You're going to have to catch me up. I just wanted to try that pumpkin spice thing everyone's been raving about for the last few decades."
She rolls her eyes. She hopes that at least her past self, waiting just outside the door, both heard and appreciated her witty comments. She doesn't know why she expected him to catch on to her true identity so easily.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she always holds out hope that he's thinking about her, that he's hoping every stranger who threatens him at a nearly empty Starbucks is really her in disguise. Sure, it may not make sense when he knows full well what his current Master looks like, and that he isn't yet dead, but it's habit. She's supposed to be the center of his universe, like he is hers.
Her arm snakes around his waist from behind, palm pressed to his stomach. She nuzzles into his shoulder. He smells good; familiar. She opens her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by immature shouting from the other side of the door.
"You've got thirty seconds! Twenty nine! Twenty eight!"
She groans against the Doctor's shoulder. She should've done this alone; he's killing the mood already. "Here's the short version. In a few years, we're going to be very, very, familiar with each other-"
Door is shoved open; the Master enters with a flourish, as though he's expecting applause. He crosses the room and kneels before the Doctor; everyone at eye level, hand on his shoulder that hasn't already been occupied by Missy.
"I see you've met Missy. Or should I say… The Mistress. My next regeneration. Charming, isn't she?"
"What?" The Doctor twisted his neck to look between them, unable to grasp what was happening to him right now. He'd met himself before, so it made sense two versions of the Master could team up, but it was the last thing he was expecting. "What? Two of you?"
He wished he could see this "Missy" better. He could certainly feel her. If she was the future Master, he didn't mind so much that she was feeling him up. When it was a stranger, it made him uncomfortable, but the Master was different. He could smell his familiar scent on both of them now, hidden underneath their strong perfumes. His head swam. The Master's face briefly blurred in his vision from how overwhelmed he was; when the Doctor could focus himself again, the Master had that same familiar smirk.
"I, uh…" He shook his head, trying to clear it and not let it show that they were getting to him. "Ahh, it's you," he said, finally managing to catch onto his usual bravado. "Well, that explains it. Lovely to meet you, Missy. You're looking well in your next regeneration. Me, I'm hoping to be a ginger next. Always wanted to be a ginger."
The Doctor was unable to look away from the Master's captivating gaze when he knew he couldn't see Missy very well anyway. Maybe he was hypnotizing him. The Doctor had always thought he'd never used hypnosis on him, but it would explain why he had always been so drawn to him no matter what he did.
He was scared, certainly, and his mind was working at every detail they let slip trying to figure out what they were up to before they could do real damage, but he was selfishly excited. He missed his friend, and now he was pinned between two of them. He swallowed dryly.
"And to what occasion do I owe the pleasure? What are you two plotting?"
"You haven't figured it out yet? The Master has been a very naughty boy." She remarks as she moves to her feet and begins to circle her prey. Her past self attempts to stand as well; she prevents it with a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back to his knees.
"Time traveling without you. Getting into trouble. Finding me."
The Master's gaze follows Missy now that she's up; if he had been trying to hypnotize the Doctor, which he wasn't, the spell would be broken. He refocuses on the Doctor only as he speaks. "You're a handful, Doctor. Who better to help me keep you in line than myself?"
Missy nudges the Master out of her way and sits across the Doctor's lap, arms around his shoulders. "Let's get to know each other."
The Doctor narrowed his eyes, watching her. She was quite pretty; he recognized the Master in her. He didn't, however, know what their plan was. He didn't know where to begin. He hadn't even known there was a problem, let alone figured out how to solve it.
He liked the attention, wanted to take it in and preen in it, wanted to enjoy the weight of this new Master in his lap and get lost in their touches coming from both directions. He wished they weren't definitely doing something evil. "All this drama, it won't stop me stopping you," he said. "Thanks for the special treatment, though. Love it. Feeds my ego. It's getting almost as big as yours."
Missy grimaces, tilting her head back to look at her other self. "He gets smarter with age. Can you spell it out for him, my dear?"
There's a beat of hesitation when the Master stands, almost expecting Missy to shove him to the ground again. She doesn't, seemingly too distracted playing with the Doctor's hair, fingertips stroking through the back of it. It's his turn to take the stage.
The Master circles him as he speaks. "You wound me, Doctor. Haven't we been getting along lately? If I was going to kill you in some grand scheme, do you really think I'd share the credit with her?"
She's losing her patience with both of them; she can't resist but to butt in. "It only takes one of us to kill you. We've brought you here to thank you."
"To take what we deserve," the Master corrects.
"More flies with honey, darling. Don't interrupt." Her attention is returned to their captive. "I'm going to cut to the chase. This is a sex thing."
"A-A what?" the Doctor stutters. "A—it's a—" he lowers his voice. "Sex? You want to have sex? With me? Both of you?"
He can feel his ears burning. That explained why they were all over him. That was normal with the Master, of course, but now it took on a different meaning. Of course he wanted to—How many times had he thought about it?—but it was the Master. It couldn't just be that. There had to be some kind of evil scheme behind it, didn't there?
"Is that really all you want? Just sex? It's not just a ruse for some sort of devious plot to… well, you know, take over the world and all that? Because, er, uh, yes. Okay. We can do that."
He fidgeted in his bonds, suddenly shy. "Wow, I haven't had sex in…" He chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking. "I dunno, since... since before the Time War. It's been awhile. I have to confess, I'm a bit rusty."
The Doctor blushes a bright red at the realization, and it's so very satisfying for both of his captors. Finally, now that everyone is on the same page, things can progress.
The Master's circling leads him once more to the front of his audience, hand going to rest on Missy's lower back. She stiffens slightly, then relaxes into the touch; it's different through her thin polo shirt than through layers of thick fabric.
"That's why there's two of us."
"Making up for lost time."
"Breaking you in."
Missy stands from the Doctor's lap, taking a moment to focus on her other self. Delicate fingers work their way down the buttons of the Master's shirt, leaving it open but still on him, chest bare. For a moment, eye contact is so intense that they seem to forget the Doctor is watching.
He grabs her ass, pulls her flush against him, mouth against her throat. Head tilts; she makes eye contact with the Doctor, as if to communicate that it will be his turn next. She grasps the back of the Master's hair and tugs him away from her neck; he's getting distracted.
Her hands find the Doctor's arms where they're bound to his chair, leaning in close to him as she speaks. The way she bends only at the waist leaves her backside sticking out to be admired by the Master. His fingers hook into the waistband of her pants, tugging them down to her ankles as she speaks. She doesn't so much as flinch; he's predictable. "Promise to behave if we untie you?"
"Oh, uh, um, yes," The Doctor manages. He feels like he should look away. Things like this were always meant to be a private moment, but it's on display for him. And he was to be part of this next? He's hot under the collar. In all his years of life, he's never done anything like this before. "I'll—yes. Whatever you say."
His eyes glide over Missy's bare legs and the Master's chest, shyly, as if afraid to take it all in. His eyes keep darting away and being drawn back. It feels too good to be true. He realizes what he said—agreeing to do whatever the Master said—and backpedals. "Well, within reason. Are we certain there's no evil plan involved?" God, they were both pretty. He rarely got to admire the Master anymore. There was always something more pressing going on. "I feel like I'm being tricked. But as long as nothing, you know, particularly fiendish is happening, uh, I, um, yeah. I'll play along." He can't keep eye contact. He's too embarrassed at what he's agreed to.
The Doctor is visibly overwhelmed and nervous. He's not used to situations like this. The Master relishes in his discomfort, watches hungrily as he squirms in his seat, so desperate to gaze at them but so quick to look away as soon as he realizes he's doing it. He wants to make it worse, to tease, to drag this out and watch him stammer.
Missy, however, takes pity on him. She wraps his tie around her hand and uses it to tug him just a little bit closer, to force him to lean in towards her despite the way he's still bound to his chair. She kisses him, softly, easing him into it.
"Shhh… 'Whatever you say' sounded so tasty. Let's leave the rest up to chance."
Fingers unknot his tie easily, pulling it off of him. She brings the soft fabric to his eyes, tying it across his face to act as a blindfold. As much as she likes to show off, he's too focused on where he should look. For now, she wants him to focus on the sensations alone.
Pressure at his wrists is released. Hands graze his arms in the process and he can feel that it's the Master now, not Missy, handling him. Missy's heels click against the tile floor as she takes a few steps away; it seems she's going to allow her other self a turn with their captive.
The Doctor kisses her back shyly, not entirely sure of what to do, but melting easily into her touch. He lets her take the lead—she clearly knows what she's doing more than he does. His eyes flutter shut as she kisses him, and before he knows it, his tie is a blindfold over his eyes.
He lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He hadn't realized he'd been so stressed out about where to look until it was taken away. Of course, now he has his hands to worry about, but he didn't even fully know where they were, let alone where to touch them, so it wasn't as pressing a concern. Part of him is even more nervous. He's still a little worried about this being an evil plot, and that he was making a mistake by giving up so much power to them, but it came so easily.
He doesn't resist the Master's hands on him. He can feel they're his and not hers—bigger, rougher, and his hearts skip a beat. He's pretty sure they're both wearing rings, though. It would hurt if they hit him. He hopes they don't. It's so incredible to feel those rough hands being gentle with him.
The Doctor sits on his chair with his hands in his lap, his mind racing at what they'll do to him next. Would he like it? Did he like sex? It was hard to remember. It had been so long since he'd had it, and it hadn't been in this body, so it was faded and hard to remember. He liked the closeness of it. He wanted nothing more than to feel close to the Master again. He'd let them do anything to him for a chance at that. His breathing picked up with anticipation as he felt the Master's proximity.