Story: Operator, Operator
Word Count: 6107
Author's Summary: The Master works as a phone sex operator in order to kick-start his political career. That's it, really.
Characters/Pairings: Doctor/Master, One through Ten/Simm!Master
Warnings: BDSM, Explicit Sex, Swearing
Recced because: With such a prompt this fic could have been a disaster. In neveralarch's hands it becomes a thing of lightness and grace, deceptively funny (so funny - biting down on things so that nobody asks what the hell is so funny!funny) and actually dark and sad - while still being funny. Essentially, what I'm saying is, this fic is like Simm!Master distilled into a fic about the Doctor's outlandish sexual practices. And that it's hilarious. Please read it, even if you don't ship it.
The one on the phone first is one the Master doesn't recognize. He might be a future Doctor, or one that the Master missed while hiding from the War. This Doctor has a rough voice with a northern accent, and it makes the Master wonder whether the Doctor looks rough enough to fit it.
"I want you to insult me," the Doctor says. He's not emotional about it, just matter-of-fact. "Abuse. I deserve it."
"Okay," says the Master. Easiest job ever.
"You're a fucking coward," he begins, leaning back in his chair, "who runs away at the first sight of anything serious. You play with children and animals because they're the only ones who will take your bullshit. Also, your clothing is generally awful. You should consider hats in order to hide the monstrosity you frequently claim is hair."
"...That's a bit specific," says the Doctor. "I meant more like swear at me."