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When Dwight saw you for the first time, he couldn't help but feel strange. It was a new feeling, something he'd never felt before during trials with other killers. It wasn't exactly fear, or anger, or anything he was used to feeling; it was some sort of mix between anticipation and curiosity. He didn't feel any less nervous during trials with you trying to hunt him and his teammates down, hell, it was as if he was even more on edge. He'd find himself getting distracted, which ended up in him messing up with repairing the generators, or get a wave of goosebumps on his neck, making him jerk his head to the side so quickly that it hurt, in an attempt to make sure he wasn't being followed.
He always knew he was in for a challenge when you were in the trial. You were quick and agile, but didn't have any problem with making a deep slash down someone's back while chasing them. There was never a time for him to catch his breath, he constantly had to be focused and alert.
Dwight was sitting by the campfire, mindlessly biting his nails. The others were trying to get some sleep a bit farther away, but he felt too restless to even try. He looked at the flames dancing, thinking about the trials, thinking about the time before this, which was barely any better than his current situation. At least that's what it felt like when he was on his third minimum wage job in the span of five months. Here it felt like he had a role; people saw him and listened to him here. He didn't melt into the shadows as he was used to. He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the entity appearing before he could feel the spider like arms wrapping around his body, dragging him into the fog.
He didn't waste any time, quickly getting to work on a generator as soon as he came to his senses again. He was familiar with the location, which reassured him a little. The group of four had quickly agreed on splitting up, trying to be as effective as possible.
It didn't take long for him to hear the distant screams of one of his teammates getting downed. He tried his best to focus at the task at hand, crouched down with his hands in the machinery, connecting the wires. He was pretty sure that the two others were closer, and could unhook the third since he'd put some distance between them in the beginning to spread out. To his dismay he could hear a yell, which could only mean another person was injured. He hesitated, before getting up and quickly but carefully making his way towards the commotion.
He peeked around the corner, making sure the scene was clear before running up and unhooking his teammate who quickly sprinted away, vaulting through a window. That's when he turned around to see you. Before he could process it, he'd started running. He didn't dare to look back, knowing you were trailing just behind. He didn't know where to go, and subconsciously started slowing down just a bit, but that was enough for you to get a hit on him. He let out a pained yelp, but it was if his mind became a bit clearer and his legs faster again. He ran, you still following. He quickly rounded a corner and pulled down a pallet that managed to stun you. You let out something between a growl and an angry scream. He'd managed to get away, this time.
Dwight found Kate who patched him up, and then went back to work on a generator after she ran off. His heart was still beating hard, his veins pumping with adrenaline. The following events were a blur, and before he knew it he was the only one left. He'd tried saving the others, he really had, but he still ended up alone. There were still three generators left, and he knew he wouldn't be able to fix them all alone without getting caught. He had to find the hatch.
It was eerily quiet, the only sounds Dwight could hear were the noise of his shoes hitting the ground and his labored breaths. Suddenly he stopped, held his breath and listened. There it was, that sound. He turned to his left, seeing the rectangular window to freedom just fifteen foot or so away from him. He let out a quick breath, about to take a step forward when he felt a hand wrap around him, putting him in a headlock.
"Don't even attempt to run, Dwighty. You know I'm faster than you and I have no problem with closing that little hatch, sealing your fate."
He felt your warm breath on his neck as you whispered the words. You were holding your knife against his throat, keeping him in place. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a small whimper went past his lips.
"Shh, now. You don't have to be scared, or maybe you should be, but that's besides the point,"
you said, and Dwight could swear he felt your teeth against his jugular.
"See this as a second chance, redemption if you will."
And before he could process it, you had pushed him the few feet into the killer shack, and pinned him down. He let out a groan as his body hit the wooden floor. His glasses had slid down his nose and you reached a finger out to push them back up, keeping his wrists pinned down with your other hand.
"You'll do what I say, right? You won't put up with any trouble?"
You said, your thighs on either side of him to keep him from squirming. Dwight could definitely feel it too, and God did it make him feel all kinds of things. He should be scared, right? Any moment now you'll slit his throat or stab your knife into his chest. But for some reason the feeling in his stomach didn't feel like fear, it felt like something different, totally different. He tried to slither out of your grip, but you just tightened the grip around his body with your thighs. Fuck, he felt a heat spreading up his face and to his ears. He turned his face away, avoiding looking up at your masked face.
"Look at me,"
You commanded, gripping his cheeks and turning his head to face you.
"and tell me you'll behave."
You hissed, punctuating the sentence with a small squeeze of his face.
"Yes, yes, I'll behave. I'll do what you say."
He stuttered, the words flowing out of him. He couldn't believe how pathetic he was.
"Good boy."
You said, the words innocently slipping out, in opposition to the gesture of you picking up your knife again, stroking the blade down his face. Not hard enough to cut, but hard enough for him to feel it.
"I don't wanna hurt ya, but you really did hurt me earlier, you know that?"
You pulled down the collar of your shirt, showing the red spot on your collarbone from the pallet.
"You really hurt me, Dwighty."
You repeated.
The combination of your words, the revealed spot of skin, the knife against his hot skin, your thighs pressing against him, and just everything in general made blood rush down to his dick. He cursed himself for getting hard in a situation like this, trying to convince himself it was just adrenaline and fear causing it, but he knew very well that wasn't true.
The very first trial with you was something he was extremely ashamed of. The way he'd stared down at you from the window as you damaged a generator with a couple kicks of your boot, with a hand palming his cock. He knew it was wrong, so, so wrong, and he'd never mention it to another living soul. Afterwards he'd find himself excusing himself from the campfire, and then with his forearm resting against a tree, his right hand jerking his cock to the memory of you. That damn mask and the sounds of exertion you let out when you slung a survivor over your shoulder. He knew something was deeply wrong with him, he was a pervert who deserved to be stuck in a place like this. The post orgasm blisses always quickly turned into guilt.
Your voice snapped him back into reality, or whatever it was.
"Are you seriously hard from this, Dwighty?"
Your teasing tone only made it worse.
"Look, it's not— fuck, it isn't what it—"
His voice trailed off, he knew there was no point in trying talk back and deny it. You could definitely feel him against you.
"And quit calling me that."
He snapped before he could stop himself. He could swear you were smirking behind your mask. You let go of your collar, placing your palm next to his head on the floor.
"You don't like the nickname, huh?"
When he didn't respond, you pressed down, a slow grind against his tented pants. That got a reaction out of him, a soft moan escaping his lips. You let out a huff, grinding again with more pressure.
"You seem to be enjoying this, though. Is this what you wanted? Sacrificing your friends to get some alone time with me?"
Dwight squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. The friction of you moving against him was making him dizzy.
"No, no, that's not true."
He responded, but he could hear how pathetic he sounded. To his embarrassment he could feel himself tearing up from both the humiliation and guilt.
"You sure?"
You leaned closer until he could feel your breath against his skin again.
"Then tell me why you jerk off to the thought of me."
You said, punctuating your sentence with a small bite to his earlobe. Dwight could feel himself freezing up at the statement, and let out a small squeal at the bite. How could you possibly know that? Had the entity somehow told you? He didn't have time to speculate any more before he felt a sharp butn against his cheek. You'd slapped him.
"Quit daydreaming. If you aren't gonna speak I might as well find a better use for that mouth."
You let go of his wrists, but he kept them over his head, eyes fixed on you as you undid the button of your pants, pulling the zipper down.
"You know, it'd be fun if you at least tried to fight back a little. You're more of a sex doll than a person."
You shifted your hips, pulling your pants down.
"The hell is that supposed to mean?"
Dwight stuttered out, his eyes moving from your crotch to your eyes behind the mask, before back again.
You didn't respond, shuffling up to his face. You steadied one hand on the ground as you lowered yourself onto his face. The warmth of his mouth made you let out something in between a moan and a growl.
Dwight could have turned his head away, pushed you off, bite your most sensitive parts, anything, but he didn't. His hands instinctively moved to your thighs, nails digging into the skin.
You began fucking his mouth, and he just lay there, feeling the musky, but not unpleasant taste of you. He let out a whimper when you pushed against him hard, the vibrations going right through your core. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a tear run down the side of his face. Your free hand grabbed at his short, dark hair, tugging his head closer. Dwight could feel himself grinding his hips up against nothing, doing anything for some sort of relief, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, ass and waist.
You'd set a brutal pace, and he could feel his jaw starting to ache. Your breaths got heavier as you approached your climax, praises slipping out in between groans. As the feeling built in your stomach your thighs squeezed around his head, keeping him in place as you finished. Dwight let out a muffled moan, feeling himself spill in his pants, untouched.
After a moment you pulled away, pulling your pants up. Dwight was red faced, glasses lopsided on his nose and mouth hanging open, lips slick with a mix of saliva and your fluids. He tried catching his breath, watching you zip up your pants like you hadn't just gotten off on his face.
You looked down at the wet spot on his pants, letting out a snicker.
"You enjoyed that huh?"
He just stared at you for a moment, propping himself up on his elbows. Only when you tilted your head to the side he realized you were waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat.
"Y-yeah, I did."
He responded quickly, averting his gaze, trying to look anywhere but you.
"Maybe next time I'll fuck you for real."
'Fuck you for real', he could only imagine what that implied; he knew you wouldn't take it easy on him if you were to do just that. You got up to your feet, giving him a kick, not hard enough to hurt but for him to turn his face towards you.
"Now scurry away before i change my mind and stick my knife right through your heart."
You said in a deadpan voice, but not without a hint of fondness in it. Dwight nodded, fumbling to get up on his shaky legs. He quickly made his way towards the hatch. Dwight looked at you one last time, almost expecting you to run towards him and attack, but you didn't. He hesitated a split second before stepping down into the dark hole. He knew he'd look visibly shaken when he came back to the campfire, but if he didn't say anything everyone would assume the worst. He'd keep it that way.