#dbd asks

You don't get to turn around, because he does it for you.

A hand encircles your wrist, a grip so strong and crushing that you can't help but stagger, your heels fighting to keep you standing as he drags you along the marbled mesh of moss and dirt. His fingers smear your gloves in muck and blood, blending the smell into the fancy new perfume your father had bought you. Carnation and vanilla, splattered with gore.

You stare up at a gnarled mask, horrified as he peels away the glove to inhale the scent straight from your skin. A muffled groan sounding from beneath the wooden snarl as his thumb circles over your palm, smudging what you hoped is mud into your hand.

You wouldn't recognise Evan. Not now.

But he recognised you. Oh yes, he did.

Still exactly the same as he remembered, trussed up like a fancy show pony for your father to parade around. All silk gloves and evening gowns, Evan had always ducked his gaze when your father visited the works and brought you along. You were too pretty, too shiny. Your father would never have allowed it.

But your father's not here, is he?

In fact, nobody is. All the other little survivors are off elbow deep in gears to try and escape him. None of them had time to break you in.

But lucky for you, Evan does.

He has all the time in the world for you, the girl who got away. Not so much of a girl anymore, though, and he's unashamed in the way his eyes rake down your form, drinking you in like a man fresh from a desert trek. His head follows, and you let out a noise that snaps his attention right back to your pretty face.

Soft, fearful. You purse your lips tight almost immediately after, and well, he doesn't blame you. You do know the reason why a mutt would love a squeaky toy, don't you?

Evan bunches his hand into the hem of your dress. Staining it, ruining that façade of prissy you put up around your family to hide the fact you were planning to run away with a boy who spent his time hiding down in the mines. You don't fight his grasp, and he'd liked to have believed that you remembered him.

After what happened, you must have forgotten all about him. Your memory buried deep along with the lives of several men down in that dark, damp shaft. He'd outgrown his old overalls so quickly, and you might just have recognised him without the shoddy stitchwork piecing him back together. Without the blood coating him to his elbows.

"Please," You whisper, voice wavering as the thick mass of his fingers probe at the stockings beneath your dress. "Why am I here?"

Evan pauses, wondering if he should humour you as he rips the fabric from your skin. White tatters sinking into the mud on the floor.

"For me." He settles, voice gravelly from underuse. A hot groan bouncing off the inside of his mask once he meets warm flesh.

Alive. Writhing under the meat of his hands and not just because he was about to string you up to bleed.

"I don't even know you." You sob, meek and quiet as he pushes you against rock, slate scraping your back and tearing the pristine fur of your coat. Your father's gift.

Whoever he was, he was much too big to fight off. His hands parting your thighs as if he was your lover. A husband. But you felt no indent of a ring in your flesh when he came to cup your cunt through your underwear. The chastising of your mother ringing aloud in your ears as heat licked at your neck.

The forest surrounding the campfire was ominous, fog rolling in from every direction. Traversing the terrain was exhausting, but the camp needed supplies. You hoped to stumble upon Autohaven, picking up parts for trials, but the entity’s realm refused to make your life easier.

After wandering for God knows how long, you were greeted by warm light, the heat and humidity choking after the bitter cold of the woods. You groaned at the sight of the Old Dawg Saloon. There wasn’t going to be anything useful here. Despite your preconceptions, you snuck around the perimeter, keeping watch for any sign of this realms resident.

Caleb watched you creeping around the outskirts of the buildings from the top of the saloon. His redeemer sat in pieces on the table, the cowboy using his free time to keep it in working order. Survivors fascinated him, the torment they live through day in, day out, only growing wiser to the killers strategies. Feeling particularly benevolent, he went back to his work. There was a few toolboxes laying around for you to loot, but nothing of actual value.

A toolbox and a few lenses, was that it? You had checked the whole area, save for the large centre building. “Of course that would be where all the good stuff is” you scoffed under your breath. The Deathslinger’s presence seemed to be missing however, surely he would’ve intervened by now otherwise. The floorboards creaked obnoxiously under your feet as you climbed the stairs. He had damned well not be here.

You kicked yourself. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Your belly ached at the sight of rows and rows of bottles. Whiskeys, rums among other a multitude of other spirits. Seemed like a surefire way to get on everyone’s good side. Grinning like a teenager you crept behind the bar, lifting one of the bottle from the wall. Throwing a quick glance to check for company, you unscrewed the cap, letting the liquid fall onto your tongue. It burned your throat, settling in your belly like fire. Delicious.

Caleb heard you come inside. He didn’t however expect you to start helping yourself to his stash of booze. His teeth ground together, brows furrowing in anger. The cowboy slipped out of the side room, watching from the banister. Disrespectful little... Surprisingly lithe, Caleb vaulted over the wooden barrier, landing at the end of the bar. You screamed, taken by surprise, trying to scrabble over the counter to freedom.

“No ya don’t” The Deathslinger seethed, closing the distance between you with one stride, his elbow slamming into your back, pinning you to the wooden surface. “Get off me!” You thrashed against him pointlessly, the killers strength far surpassing anything a meek survivor had. “So you can steal from me again?” He spat, tutting at the bottles strewn over the floor. “Take your trinkets ‘n’ shit but this is mine” Caleb splayed a hand across your shoulders, drinking in the sight of you bent over, completely at his mercy.

You waited with baited breath, unable to move under the cowboys grip. He chuckled darkly, shifting his grip, fingers digging into your sides. Hot breath grazed your neck, his weight pressing against you. “How would you like it if I took somethin’ of yours without askin’?” He drawled, a shiver breaking down your spine. You tried to squirm away from him again, crying out pointlessly for help. Caleb ground into your ass, his cock half-hard, growling into your ear. You kicked out at your assailant, yelping when you were rewarded with a hard smack to your upper thigh.

“Fuck you.” He grinned, slipping his hands under your shirt, tugging your bra down. Caleb palmed at your breasts, ghosting his tongue over the shell of your ear. His thumbs swiped over your nipples, the buds perking under his attention. “You survivors have no respect.” The cowboy pinched and twisted a nipple, relishing the wails that broke from your throat. “Someone’s gotta teach you some manners” Your mouth tasted of iron from where you’d been biting your lip, trying and failing to ignore the jolts of arousal his touch gave you. Fuck if the man wasn’t good with his fingers.

You whimpered involuntarily when his fingers left your shirt, Caleb’s eyebrow raising in response. “Looks like I caught myself a lil’ whore” The southern drawl drained all your blood south, your negelected sex throbbing painfully. The cowboy tugged down your pants, squeezing at the bare globes of flesh. A digit traced the inside of your thigh, your heart hammering against your chest. “If you want me to touch you darlin’ you’re gonna have to apologise.” Caleb kept his touches teasing, milimetres from your soaked cunt. You shook your head defiantly, earning a second swift slap from the cowboys hand. Your knees quivered, tiny mewls leaving your lips. “I’d reconsider.”

“Please.” You whispered, hissing through your teeth as he spanked you again, your ass burning red. Caleb tutted, squeezing the sore flesh, tears pricking in your eyes. “That’s not what I asked for, is it?” “I’m sorry!” You whined, rocking your hips towards him. The Deathslinger hummed appreciatively, grinding his palm against your slit. “What are you sorry for?” “I’m sorry for, ah...” A digit slipped into you mid-sentence, relief and pleasure short-circuiting your brain. A swift slap brought you back to reality, the mixture of stinging skin and Caleb’s finger stroking your insides making it hard to think. “I’m sorry for stealing.” You moaned lewdly as he pushed in another finger, curling them at the knuckle, pressing against you deliciously.

“Good girl.” Caleb’s breathing was ragged as he watched you come undone beneath him. “But... I don’t think you mean it.” He smacked you again, your legs giving way underneath you. “You’re just a whore.” Smack. “You fuckin’ disgust me.” Smack. “I’m sorry, please, I am!” Tears streaked down your cheeks, your ass burning painfully. “Prove it.” Caleb sneered, pulling you off the counter, discarding you to the floor. “Kneel.”

The cowboy freed his cock, winding his fingers in your hair. Meeting his gaze, you licked your lips, pulling back the skin to drag your tongue over the head, salty precum lingering on your tongue. He wasn’t in the mood to be teased it seemed, his grip pulling you closer, insisting you to open your mouth. Caleb’s jaw clenched as he slid past your lips, letting you accommodate as much of him as possible. He grunted when you hollowed out your cheeks, bobbing eagerly along his shaft. It didn’t seem he had much in the way of self control, his hips jerking into your throat, leaving you gagging around his cock. “Good girl.” He praised, his grip tightening when you swiped your tongue over the underside of his member. Caleb growled, letting you continue your ministrations for a few moments before pulling out of your mouth, saliva smeared over your lips.

He tugged at your hair, scooping you up to sit you on the bar, not giving you a moment before sinking inside of you, smirking as you threw your head back, cries of pleasure leaving your lips. Your cunt throbbed around his cock, Caleb firmly gripping your thighs, keeping you in place whilst he pistoned into you. Your nails dug into the counter, gouging out small chunks of wood. The cowboy snarled possessively, eyes flicking between your face and watching his cock disappear inside of you. “Harder, please....” You begged quietly. Caleb didn’t think, hooking your legs over his shoulders, each thrust reminding you of the raw flesh of your ass. The new angle allowed him to hit the sweet spot inside of you, stars flashing in front of your eyes. Caleb was panting, his pace erratic as he got closer, releasing your ankle to rub your clit. You screamed as you came, tightening walls sending the cowboy over the edge, hot cum pumping inside of you.