Sloppy Seconds

Lizard twitches, pressing the Peacemaker to my face, and I think, this is it. Mars steps in to take the pistol away from Lizard as though he is confiscating a toy from a child. One second the barrel is jammed against my cheek hard enough to hurt, and the next it is gone, lifted smoothly from Lizard’s hand by a massive arm wrapped in black leather.

Mars turns the revolver once in his hand, checking the cylinder with a soft metallic click while the camper creaks around us beneath the desert wind. Lizard immediately bristles. “I wasn’t gonna shoot her.” Mars ignores him at first. He just studies the Colt like he respects it more than the man holding it did.

The lantern hanging above the kitchenette throws long yellow shadows across his bald scalp and broad shoulders. In this cramped camper, he feels enormous. Like the walls themselves are bending around him. “You keep wavin’ this around,” Mars finally says, “somebody important’s gonna get shot.”

Lizard snorts. “I bet she's got pretty feet.” He looks at me then. I am curled against the torn dinette bench with my wrists tied behind my back, curls stuck damp against my face with sweat and dirt. One strap of my overalls hangs twisted from where they dragged me through the camper.

His rough hands yank at the laces of my boots, pulling them off, and then my socks. He seems to forget the rest of me for a moment, utterly captivated. He grabs my left foot, his touch surprisingly gentle now, and brings it to his mouth. His tongue, dry and surprisingly cool, slithers over my arch, then between my toes.

He takes one toe into his mouth, sucking on it with a soft, wet noise, his eyes closed in concentration. It's an intimate, bizarre act of worship after the ****. He switches feet, his attentions moving to my right, his sucking becoming more fervent.

A low, pleasured hiss escapes him. My body is a vessel, and it is full. I close my eyes in revulsion. Mars exhales slowly through his nose. “If you're gonna fuck her, get on with it. We have to get her home before dawn.” Something about the way he says it makes my stomach knot harder than the gun ever did.

Lizard releases my foot with a wet pop, his earlier reverence gone, replaced by a mean, petty energy. He grins and I barely have time to tense before he lunges at me. The slap detonates across my face so hard my vision whites out for a second. My head snaps sideways, my ear ringing instantly.

Heat floods my cheek a heartbeat later, sharp and electric. Lizard laughs. “Oh, she felt that one.” I try to pull away instinctively, but there is nowhere to go. The wall catches my shoulder blades. The camper rattles around me. The second slap comes from the opposite side. I gasp despite myself.

Tears spring into my eyes immediately from the ****, blurring the lights into ugly yellow smears. Lizard crouches in front of me now, twitching with excitement and breathing hard through broken teeth. “Look at me.” I stare at the floor. His fingers clamp around my jaw hard enough to hurt.

“Look at me, bitch!" I **** myself to raise my eyes and immediately wish I had not. There is something hungry behind his expression. It is not rage, not even hate. It is something mean and pathetic and cruel, like a little boy pulling wings off insects.

As his clawed fingers brush my inner thigh, I don't flinch. I let my legs fall open wider, a deliberate, silent invitation. The mess is a testament to their brutality, but my body is already thrumming with a new, sharp purpose. Lizard needs no further coaxing. He fumbles with his own ragged trousers, his excitement palpable.

Lizard mounts me, shoving inside the slick, loose channel with a grunt. There's no resistance left, just a slick, easy slide into the ruin Mars created. He's thinner, his movements quicker, a frantic scrabbling compared to Mars's brutal hammering.

"Sloppy seconds," he pants against my ear, his breath a dry rattle. "Just how I like it." He fucks me, shallow and fast, lost in his own pathetic gratification. His thrusts are a weak, frantic scrabbling, but his words are knives. "You like that, you filthy slit?" he snarls, his face close to mine. "Just a used-up hole, ain't you? A walking cunt for real men to dump in."

Each cruel word is punctuated by a shallow jab. "Papa's gonna make you his personal piss-pot after we're done breeding you." He's trying to hurt with language now that his body can't, and it's almost amusing in its desperation. I lie perfectly still, letting him have his way

Mars leans against the kitchenette nearby, arms folded while my Peacemaker hangs loosely from one massive hand, just watching. That scares me more than the slaps. Lizard backhands me again. Pain explodes across my mouth. I taste blood immediately. “You hear that?” he asks Mars, laughing breathlessly. “She makin’ little noises now.” Mars says nothing.

Lizard grabs my hair and jerks me sideways across the cushions. The camper rocks violently. Somewhere behind us, a dish crashes onto the floor and shatters. His insults taper off into a strained gasp, his body tensing for a final, feeble release. It's not a flood, but a weak, dribbling spurt that adds little to the mess already inside me. He shudders, then goes still.

Lizard's weight is a bony burden on my hips. For a long moment, there is only the sound of our breathing, his ragged, mine deliberately slow and even. I can feel his jizz now, a thin, cold trickle, spent and pathetic. The camper smells of sweat, sex, and something bitter.

He slides out with an ease that is almost obscene, the sensation empty and wet. A soft, derisive laugh escapes my lips. His face, still flushed with spent effort, pales with a dawning confusion. He opens his mouth, perhaps to spit another insult.

Lizard grabs my hair and drags me upright. “C’mon,” he whispers. “Cry for me.” I stare at him through watering blue eyes. Then I spit blood directly into his face. Everything stops. Blood runs down my chin while Lizard stares at me in disbelief, crimson flecked across his cracked lips and twitching cheeks.

For one strange second, the only sound inside the camper is the old lantern hissing softly above us and the desert wind scraping against the aluminum walls outside. Then I see Mars smile, just a little. It's not amusement, but something worse. A slow smirk curls at the corner of his mouth like he has finally noticed I might actually be interesting after all.