Actions

Work Header

if you can't make your own self-control, secondhand is fine

Summary:

"So..." He licks his lips. "You'll do anything I tell you to?"

Work Text:

"Let me get this straight. I told you not to come, and you didn't?"

You nod.

"You haven't come at all in the last week?"

No, no you haven't.

"Just because I said so?"

You don't make a habit of letting him down, no matter how much your cloaca throbs in protest.

"So..." He licks his lips. "You'll do anything I tell you to?"

As an agent, you shouldn't-

"If I tell you to come, right now-"

You nod again, too eagerly, the last of your self-control snapping like a twig.

"Then do it, Perry the Platypus. Come for me."


"You needed that, huh?" he purrs as you crumple onto the hard floor of his laboratory, your breath ragged. "Yeah, you did."

Does he have to be so fucking smug? Clenching your jaw, you glare up at-

He crouches beside you. "Look at you, coming untouched," he murmurs, softly. "You must have been pent up. Let me guess, you jerked off every night."

And every morning, and a few afternoons...

"And you held back for me? I'm flattered, Perry the Platypus, really. Now..." He brushes his thumb over your cheek, giving you a dangerous smile. "Let's go again, shall we?"


"Come," he orders, and you do, shaking, whining, clawing at the floor, your tail stiff.

Why can't you fight this? He's your nemesis, you should-

"Come," he says, softer, and your body reacts before you can stop it, washing your thoughts away.

How long has he had this much power over-

"Come," he repeats, his words, his voice, reaching deep inside you the way his fingers aren't, pushing you over the edge again.

Fuck, you love his voice, the way he says-

"Come," he murmurs, barely above a breath, and you obey.

Why fight? Better to obey him, to-

"Come."


You come again with a shudder, your whole body weak. How many has that been now? And he's still not done, his voice coaxing yet another orgasm from your aching body. Is this his idea of torture? Making up for all the times you didn't come this past week, one after another?

Cradling your face in his hands, he tilts your head up, gaze soft. "There's my guy," he croons, wiping tears from your eyes-

Since when were you crying?

He shushes you, kissing the tip of your bill, and you whimper. You were wrong. This isn't torture, it's worse.


"Are you done?" he asks, agonisingly gentle. "Or do you still have one more left in you?"

Wrapping your trembling paws around his wrists to steady yourself, you shake your head. No more. You're done, you're out of orgasms, you're-

"Come on," he wheedles, "just one more, for me."

-coming again, somehow. What is it about this man that makes everything he says sound so fucking reasonable? You sag into his hands with a whine, hoping he can make sense of this for you. Why do you trust him this much? He's Evil, you remind yourself, and you're...

Tired, mostly.


"Can you move?" he asks, as if the answer isn't obvious, and all you can do is grumble under your breath. Is he that oblivious- "Oh good, that means you can't stop me from doing this."

And he picks you up.

He's right, you think as he holds you to his chest, you can't stop him. Even if you wanted to.

Scratching that spot between your shoulders, he hums, rising to his feet. "You know, this is a good look for you-"

What, too weak to fight back?

"No, comfortable," he corrects, giving you a lopsided grin. "It suits you."


You give in, resting your head on his shoulder, letting his words wash over you as he rambles about everything and nothing. It's... nice, actually. Knowing you're safe with him.

Still talking, he carries you into his apartment and drops into an armchair, arms loose enough around your shoulders that you could push him away if you wanted to. You don't. "I had fun today, did you have fun? Yeah, you did, I can tell," he adds before you can deny it, grinning.

He's right, not that you'll say so. The last thing you want to do is encourage him.


"We should do this again sometime, huh?" he continues, lifting you up off his chest to meet your eyes. "And by this I mean let's give that self-control of yours a workout. What do you say, think you can hold out for two weeks this time?"

This man is going to be the death of you. Fuck, you barely survived one week, how the fuck does he think you'll manage two-

Who are you kidding, of course you'll do it, you're Perry the Platypus. You've never backed down from a challenge before, and you're clearly not about to start now.