malarkey

Perfidia wets her lips before speaking. “The guards–can you tell them I’m yours? I only want you,” she asks quietly. Her voice is scratchy and weak, but she tries to push desire into her tone. To sell her love. 

Lockjaw’s lips twitch at the corners, so small she almost misses the mili-second of joy spasming across his face, before calculation replaces it. He tilts his head in consideration of her request, arms crossing as he leans away, resting against the chair back. He stares at her for an age before finally moving one hand and adjusting himself in his fatigues. He leans back down so they’re face to face, his altoid breath puffing across her face as he speaks.

“My men have always been visual learners. I know how to warn them away from you, dearest,” he says. His eyes fixate on her lips for a full ten seconds before he begins moving. Standing, unbuckling his belt and pants–pulling his cock out. 

“I’ll paint you up. That should be warning enough. How’s that solution, Perfidia?”

Lockjaw actually waits a moment for her to speak, cock in hand and stroking himself as he continues staring at her. His own tongue darts out to wet his lips and Perfidia has known how she would answer since before he even tested her this way.

“Please,” is all she says in response, and it’s all the encouragement Lockjaw needs. He grabs the bed remote, situating her higher so she’s at the best angle for him. He leans over her, one knee braced on the edge of the bed for support, as he feeds his cock into her mouth.

Even with just the head resting on her tongue, Perfidia feels it fill her, invade her senses. Above her, Lockjaw groans deep in the back of his throat at the heat. Her throat is dry, but he’s sure she’ll be drooling over him in no time.

A hand finds its way to her hair and Lockjaw makes a tight grip, there. “I know you’re weak, so let me take care of this. You just–ohh, yeah–keep just like that. Mmmm, nice and warm for me,” he stutters in between little sounds of pleasure as he thrusts into the heat of her mouth.

His cock has been hardening, growing, and now she feels its full girth as he begins to make longer strokes down into her throat. She’s gagging, trying to breathe through her nose, trying to clench onto her blankets so she doesn’t do something stupid like try to push him away.

But Lockjaw is looking up, neck and cheeks a burning red, hips thrusting long, languid strokes down her throat. There’s nothing much she can do in her state to make it better for him, so instead she takes as deep a breath as she’s able, and lets her jaw go slack so as not to accidentally catch him with her teeth. 

Lockjaw feels the difference and tilts his head down to look at her, eyes shining in the fluorescent lighting. His hat is still on the side table, and so she looks up, unavoidable tears in her eyes, and the sight makes him moan louder, his hips making frantic motions as he slams his dick into her mouth over and over again now. 

“Oh, nice and hot, just like that, oh mommy–”Lockjaw mumbles to himself as he speeds up impossibly faster, and Perfidia braces herself to have to swallow his cum, when he suddenly pulls out, hand ripping back her blanket and gown to her fragile, bruised and broken body beneath. The immediate chill of the room raises goose-flesh all over her body and she shivers even as hot cum starts painting her chest–her abdomen, her throat, even her face gets its fair share. As if Lockjaw has kept this load primed and ready for her for a while. A little bit falls into her mouth, and she lets the taste of his musk sit on her tongue. 

When he releases her hair, Perfidia’s head lolls back, eyes tilting towards the ceiling, only partially able to see Lockjaw in her peripheral now. She feels his cooling jizz all over her body, and the tacky, disgusting feeling of it makes her want to vomit. It’s not satisfying to be used like a sex doll like this, especially in her state. But if it keeps her safe…

She rolls her head to the left, opening her mouth and showing off the little bit of cum that made it past her lips. Lockjaw’s breath hitches and hitches again when she swallows it audibly. 

Lockjaw takes a few moments to get his breathing back in control, but finally he does, fisting his cock back into his pants and buckling back up. Finally he looks back down over Perfidia, pulling the gown back on her somewhat, pulling the blanket back up under her chin. He makes no move to wipe the cum from her cheek or brow, nor does she ask it of him.

“Keep this as a gift from me to you, to warn off any of those wannabes. They should know you’re mine and mine alone.” 

Perfidia clears her throat, and looks up through her eyelashes at him. “Thank you, Captain Lockjaw,” she says. Her voice is even more wrecked now, and she sees the way it makes his eyes dilate in rampant attraction as he hears it.

“No need to be so formal. You’re in love with me, it’s Steve.” 

Perfidia smiles through the pain and thanks him again, by name. Lockjaw leans down and gives her a kiss on the lips–he must taste his own cum for a moment–and stands again, grabbing his hat and leaving. 

She hears voices on the other side of the door. They talk and laugh for a long while before his steps finally move away.