#sffic

You're alone tonight since Danny called and said his boss had to keep him in late to finish some articles he'd promised. "Nothin' too crazy, I'll just be a couple hours," he'd said, but a couple hours has turned into seven, and you're wishing he was in bed with you. Not just because you miss his presence that you've gotten used to, but tonight you're feeling especially lonely, and in more ways than one.

How cruel it is for your body to be craving him when he isn't even there, and the visual stimulus you'd typically enjoy just isn't cutting it. The temptations when Danny comes to mind is too great to ignore, so you turn over in the dark and unplug your phone from its charger. Once you've sat up against your pillow, though, you start to second guess yourself.

What if he's driving home? Then you'd look silly. He couldn't still be at work, and if he is, you'd want to sock his boss in the jaw. What's one phone call? you wonder, hurriedly unlocking your phone and calling Danny, slightly out of breath from how nervous you're becoming.

"Babe?" he answers. "What's the matter, you okay?" He's out of breath too.

"Hey, yeah... I just, um—" You let out a chuckle, embarrassed beyond belief now that you've really committed, then bite your lips into a straight line.

"I'll be home soon."

"No, I know. I just... can't stop thinking about you, that's all. I'll let you work."

"No, don't worry about that, I'm done here. Actually, I've been... running around a bit. Thought I'd take a jog, you know how I get after working too long."

You bite your lip. "You know, if you came home, I could help you loosen up." Danny doesn't say anything for a moment, but his voice becomes low and soft.

"Oh, could you, now? Am I missing out on anything?"

"Not yet," you say, biting your finger with a smirk.

"In that case... what're you thinking about?"

"You, didn't I say that?"

"Oh, I must not have heard... what, do you want me to spank you like I did the other night?"

"Danny!"

"Do you wanna spank me instead, then? I wouldn't mind that." His tone makes you laugh, out of embarrassment and the fact that you're really thinking about it now. Just the sound of his voice, deep and sultry and buttery-smooth, is already making you weak in the knees.

As he keeps talking, you stand up and go over to the closet to grab one of the tens of black leather gloves he keeps. Surely he won't mind if one of them gets a little dirty; you just want to feel like it's him about to touch you, teasing up the side of your inner thigh and towards your middle.

"Oh, wouldn't I love to be eating you out right now..." The gloved hand slips into your shorts. "You touching yourself yet, dollface?"

"Mhm," you tell him, his glove cool against your skin before your arousal makes it warm. You don't tell him that yet.

"Thinking about my tongue inside of you?" Words fail you as a moan slips through, and Danny chuckles on the other end. "In that spot you really like it... hot and wet on your skin, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Mm... mhm..." You're biting your lip hard, legs slightly spread apart as you keep rubbing yourself to his voice, imagining his head in between them as he laps at you like he says he would. "Then what?"

"Then what? Well, I know how much you like it when I finger you." This makes you laugh.

"I do like when you do that."

"Then would you let me fuck you real good?" he asks, and the moan you were holding in comes out when you try to answer him calmly. His chuckle on the other end turns you on even more, and your hand is rubbing that much faster, desperate for the release that his voice is giving you. "I'll take that as a yes."

Your breaths become louder as you moan into the phone, just going at it in the hopes that you'll be able to go to sleep since Danny's still not home. "Still touching yourself?" he asks, and you moan out a yes. "Stop."

"What?" You do and close your legs, panting with your hand still pressed tightly against you. "Why?" Then, you hear the front door open and the jingle of his keys, and he hangs up the call. Your face all flushed, you're embarrassed to see him rushing into the bedroom with a smile on his face and his tongue between his teeth.

"Danny's home," he says to you, and you wrap your arms around him as he jumps at you excitedly. He kisses you before noticing the glove. "No, no, don't take it off... it's sexy." Without much more warning, he pulls down the covers and hurries to get your shorts down.

As much as Leon loves to tease you about how shy you are around him, you both know he's the one who can hardly stand up any time he sees your body. He loses himself at the sight of you, wanting to touch you everywhere and make you feel good, and you can tell when he feels this way even when you're fully clothed. Cuddling with you, his cheeks will flare up suddenly, and his hands will travel a little further than they usually do. That's what he's doing right now as his hand finds your inner thigh, and he can hardly make eye contact.

"What are you doing?" you tease him, laughing a little as you pull the strands of hair from his face. He chuckles and says he isn't doing anything, that you're just so comfortable to lay on. In truth, his hand is exciting you, but you don't want to say that. "No, I know that look."

"What look?" he smiles and meets your eyes before kissing you, his hand sliding up your side. "This one?" His eyes wander to where he's starting to lift up your shirt, but you hold it down even though you're tempted to let him do what he wants. You know he feels your heart racing, and he knows how much you want him, but you need to take your time. He sits back and observes as you do just that, slowly removing your clothes piece by piece.

Once you're stark naked, Leon's eyes are really fixed on your body, in awe and full of adoration that he can finally let out. "Look at you," he marvels, laying a hand on your knee and running it up and down your leg, smiling at the man he loves more than anybody. He rests his chin between your touching knees and wraps his arms around your legs to ask, "You know how handsome you are, don't you?"

"No," you tell him partly in truth, and partly because you want him to tell you. He laughs and moves your legs aside to lean over you and kiss you, a hand moving along your front and to your chest, gently pushing his hips against your backside. "Show me," you whisper into his mouth, and he lingers for a little longer.

Then, he sits back up and massages your thighs with both hands, and you feel that nervous tingle all through your core as he spreads your legs to leave kisses along your inner thighs. While you're comfortable with Leon, you can't help but feel embarrassed by the way he loves you so much, even the parts of you that aren't as you would like them to be. "You are so perfect," he whispers, lips teasing you as they inch closer and closer to your middle. Your breaths are unsteady, but he holds onto you tight.

You close your eyes, not wanting to look at what he's doing, but to feel the way his lips brush over yours, and his tongue just barely touching your skin through whispers; "God, I adore you." The words alone make you so weak, you can't do anything but lay there and let him worship every inch of you with his hands and his mouth. He runs his hands along your stomach and up to your chest, teasing your nipples as he very carefully goes down on you harder—just enough to make you squirm.

The little compliments Leon weaves into you with his tongue make the hairs on your arms and legs rise with pleasure, and your heavy breaths turn into low grunts and moans that encourage him to move back up and kiss you. His hands finds the spot where his tongue left off, and he rubs at you a little with an arm around your shoulders. "Atta boy, just relax... there you go," he whispers into another kiss as his fingers slowly sink into you.

You bite your lip as your eyes roll in pleasure, and Leon moves back between your legs to make use of his tongue again with is hands. The way he looks at you while he does so puts you over the edge. You pull him back on top of you, just wanting to be held and loved and praised all over you again. He kisses your neck and rubs your head as you doze off in his embrace.

His voice goes through your head over and over, "You are so perfect...

You made the deal with Caleb a long time ago: relief only if it came without strings attached. More and more, you started feeling the wear in your arm, but you couldn't even think about being intimate with any of the survivors. They were your friends, your family by that point. It wouldn't be right.

But the Deathslinger got a little cocky with his spear and hit you some place you just couldn't control your reaction to, and that's when you became the killers' plaything whenever they wanted—whenever you wanted.

Another session at the Dead Dawg Saloon, Caleb manning the entrance like a bouncer to make sure only one of his "clients" will come at a time. You're behind the wall, undressing your bottoms and laying flat on the bed before you stick your legs out through the thin sheet that blocks your body from view.

You hear a murmur, and then heavy work boots make their way up the stairs. The killer coming your way is silent, but the Trapper has fucked you enough times now that you know the feeling of his hands as they caress your inner thighs and spread your legs apart.

Not seeing him adds to the fun, makes the anticipation that much sweeter. Dry fingers down the middle between your legs, stroking and circling to tease you in the air. The urge to close your legs out of lustful instinct is strong, but his arms keep them wide open. You don't want to wait.

Then, a thick glob of spit, and his tongue is prodding your entrance instead. Rough and slick, the first swipe makes you shudder, knees bending over his hands as he licks you with ease. You taste like you've been running for a while, and the way you loosen up right away shows your much needed relief.

Evan's got you now; you're all his.

He sucks and licks and spits for a while longer, heavy-handedly palming himself through his ruddy overalls. One button. Two buttons. His cock is rubbing against you, fat and throbbing over your hole. You need him so badly already, you're pushing your hips up to meet him higher.

Evan isn't much for preparation, so a quick pump of his thumb is all you get before he replaces it with the head of his cock. Slow and steady, that's how it goes until he sinks deeper inside of you and rocks himself back and forth.

Your moans are muffled behind the wall, but hearing that much is enough for Evan to know how much you need this, and it's clear that he does too in the way he rubs your legs while he fucks you. If only he could see your desperate face, your lips that part with your tongue grazing the edge.

He's had his eye on you for a while. Sweet and innocent, the kind of girl he'd love to toy with; one who doesn't talk much, but one who he doesn't expect to be so salacious. You're the Executioner's next fixation, but not quite for a killing.

It's a tight space between the lockers—there isn't much room to move around—but that doesn't keep your hands off of his crotch. It doesn't keep him from moving a hand to the top of your head and pushing you down in a squat so your face is almost pressed against him, feeling him stiffen up more behind the fabric.

He grinds a little on your face, his bulge pushing into your mouth, and then pulls his apron aside, lowers his pants, and rubs his half-hard length against your cheek. You feel yourself succumbing to his dangerous charms, especially with how much you admire his body.

Pyramid Head watches as he towers over you, as your tongue slides out and all over his cock. You try to reach a hand up to touch it, but he holds it away, only wanting your mouth. You don't have much of a choice but to comply, but you make the movements of your tongue and your lips count. Sucking on the tip and kissing along the shaft, his grunts above you sound in approval.

You open your mouth wide, asking for him, begging for more of him, and he grunts but positions himself so he fits into your mouth. He hardly fits, his whole length not nearly making it all the way back, so he lets you take your time and pleasure him at your own pace. The last thing he'd want is for you to be uncomfortable. He wants you to enjoy it.

And you do enjoy it—every delicious second of him in your mouth, tasting him and wishing his hands weren't pinning yours against the lockers so you could relieve yourself a little bit. You grind your hips into his leg, trying to tell him that you want him to ravish you.

He takes the hint, letting your hands free and standing you back up, his member throbbing against your chest. He opens one of the lockers on top and picks you up to sit up against it, your legs being forced apart by the lack of space, but you enjoy being pressed up against him.

Your skirt already hiked up, his big thumb rubs you through your panties as the rest of his hand wraps around the front of your inner thigh. The other hand is busy fondling under your shirt, and his hard-on taunts you as it rests against your leg.

He pulls the fabric aside and rubs you even more, eyeing how wet you are before spreading your lips and pumping a finger inside you. It's already so much to bear, you can't hardly imagine anything else, but you're so desperate at this point that being patient isn't an option.

You whine and squirm and plead for him to just fuck you already, that you want his big, perfect cock inside of you, and you'll do anything for it. Still, Pyramid Head doesn't need you to do anything but sit there and be pretty, to keep dripping as he rubs the tip against your core and slowly pushes inside of you.

His other hand moves from your chest to wrap around your thigh and squeeze it tightly as he shakes the wall of lockers with every thrust. You've never felt anything more intense but so good; nothing has sated your desires so much before. It doesn't take very long for you to reach your limit, but you let him keep going out of sheer infatuation. How can you know if this will happen again?

It’s not often that a killer is willing to let you go free at the end of a trial, so when it does happen, you’re sure to express your thanks to them. Given his title of The Executioner, Pyramid Head was the last killer you expected to show you mercy of any kind. He dropped you off head-first into the hatch, and stared down as you fell through the fog. He’d used his Memento Mori on everybody else. You owed him for this.

Now, several trials later, you hear the familiar iron-clad breaths over your shoulder, and you know you’re in for a long trial.

Alas, you’ve fallen to his punishment, and he has you on the ground only seconds later. He’s strange this time, the way he walks to your feet and stares at your back before ultimately picking you up over his shoulder. His grasp on you is just the same as it always is, until he drops his weapon and uses the other hand to feel up your leg.

You jump at the sudden change in his behavior, and despite thrashing around even more, his grip on you is only tighter. You scream and ask what he’s doing, but his hand keeps rubbing on your inner thigh and sliding itself higher. You’d never admit that this excited you, and that you’ve been fantasizing about him. You played the Executioner’s game, and now you’ve played into his hands.

When you realize that he’s adamant about teasing you, you give up trying to release yourself from his grasp, and he grips your skin tightly. You squirm under his arm, a titillating sensation through your chest and following his fingers along your legs. He slides up slowly and finds the hem of your skirt, ignoring it and gripping your ass underneath.

A gasp escapes you as he fondles your cheek, teasing between your legs where you’re squeezing tight. He doesn’t take much time to pull your panties down just enough for his fingers to touch you where your excitement and arousal are the most evident. You try not to make too much noise as he rubs you and carries you over to a corner, keeping you pressed up against him.

He keeps the one arm locked around your hips, keeping you upright as you sit with your legs around his midsection. Your skirt is hiked up all the way, and he uses his other hand to pull up your shirt, feeling your gentle skin underneath, hands on your breasts and fingers teasing your nipples.

You can’t help but whine as the other hand slips between your legs again from behind, rubbing you with your wetness and teasing your hole, but he doesn’t quite satisfy your cravings just yet. Before you know it, your shirt is pulled off completely, and he’s really having his fun with your chest. You almost can’t take it, the way he rubs and tugs on you while his breaths are hot against your skin. You’re aching for him terribly.

He leans against the wall himself and sits you on his lap, hand still firm against you, rubbing between your lips. Finally, you feel his fingers slide inside of you as he pumps his arm to satisfy you, but only making you want more of him. Maybe he knows that. Maybe he wants you to want more, but either way, that doesn’t change how deeply aroused you really are, and it shows.

He teases you through his robe as his arousal is begging to be sated, but he doesn’t make a move. He doesn’t stop with his hand until you’re screaming in pleasure and completely worn out. Then, he leaves you alone on the ground, taking a final look before dressing you back up. The other survivors won’t ever know what really happened, but you hope it will happen again.

Leon's introductions around the campfire are slow but meaningful with everyone he meets. The survivors' personalities each stand out to him, but something about you stands out even more. He kicks himself for thinking about how attractive you are before even talking to you, but he can't help it. He's caught off guard by your looks, and he'll make sure he gets to spend more time with you.

He'll pretend that he's confident enough to deal with the killers on his own, but that will soon prove to be untrue. He'll notice you in a trial with him and casually ask for some help with a generator, watching you intently as you repair it, mostly focused on the movement of your hands. He wants you just as close to him when he does his first repair.

Leon won't admit how much the various killers frighten him since he wants to look strong and fearless to you, but it's easy to see through him. He might grab your wrist out of instinct when he hears the sudden heartbeat of a killer monitoring the area, and he'll be mortified once he realizes what he just did.

Caleb has always been too tense for his own good, hardly able to unwind without a cold, Entity-brewed beer—something to cool him down after getting so heated from a trial. The survivors could be a pain in the backside, all slippery and hard to keep track of. It's a shame you're not there to make it easier for him. He can't keep his eyes off of you.

Fortunately for him, you heard he was in a trial again and decided to wait for him in the saloon, having a drink of your own while you wait. It goes down smooth but makes you wish he were here already, sitting next to you, rubbing your thigh...

Then, the batwing doors fly open with an angry huff behind them, and Caleb sighs apologetically when he notices you at the table. "Oh, what a welcomed surprise," he says, clearly on edge still. "Were you waitin' on me long?"

"No, no," you tell him, "not too long." You stand up to gain his attention, but he's intent on going to the bar for a drink. His eyes meet yours, silently asking if you would step aside, but you won't let him off that easily. "What'd you say last time?"

"I know, I know." He twirled around in contemplation, urges bubbling up again like they always did. "Seltzer just don't work the same."

"I know."

Caleb goes behind the bar and fills himself up a glass of cold club soda, a drink that's more of an accessory to him than a beverage. The grimace he puts on after taking a sip says it all; not that doesn't like it, but that he just wants a beer.

"Why don't we go upstairs?" you ask, and he turns his head.

"What's upstairs, darl—oh." His brows raise, a smile tugs on his lips, and soon he's following you up the rickety steps into the first room on your right, where an old bed sits mostly unused. The only times it does get any use are times like these when you come to Caleb for a sliver of intimacy. Neither of you are very privy to that feeling anymore.

"Now, you just sit and drink up, honey," you say to him. "I'll help you unwind this time." Caleb chuckles and shakes his head, leaning back a bit and letting you take the lead on this one.

You start by rubbing your hands along his thighs, slow and gentle just the way he likes it. Glass to his lip, your thumbs reach right to his zipper as your hands squeeze around his upper thighs. He hums; he likes it.

You palm at his crotch for a while, feeling as the tension there builds up, and and his breaths simmer down, quiet and relaxed. The zipper comes undone, and he helps you pull his pants down enough to release him from the constraining fabric. Your hand is around his semi-erection with a shaky exhale from his lips, and he takes another sip of his drink.

You stroke him gently along his full length, massaging his balls with your other hand, and you can tell in the way his closed eyes flutter that he's enjoying himself. "That's nice," he says quietly, leaning back more and pushing his hips forward a bit. That's when you lean in further and lick along his cock from the base to the tip, and then take it all into your mouth at once.

A sharp inhale, and Caleb slowly tries to move his hips around, but your hands on his thighs don't let him move too well. You look at him in the eye and shake your head, licking your tongue painfully slowly as you swallow the saliva starting to build up. "Oh, you're teasin' me," he says with a smirk. Another sip. "Well, fine then."

His free hand moves to the top of your head, running his fingers along and sending a tingle down your spine. Every hum of yours is a subtle vibration that makes him tense up for barely a second, and you can tell his toes are curling under his boots.

You swallow again, and Caleb groans as your mouth tightens around him, that split second so enticing. He takes the final sip of his soda and sets the empty glass down on the bed, bringing the other hand down to caress your cheek. He smiles at the way you look up at him with wide eyes, lips stretched around him, everything just how he likes to see it.

You slide your head up, finally some movement against his skin that makes Caleb shudder in arousal. He groans when you lift yourself all the way off, licking around the head of his cock before plunging yourself back down, starting to move much more quickly. Sweat starts to show under his hat and on his neck, and you know he's close already.

Times like this, Caleb knows that you don't care how long he lasts, so he doesn't mind just letting himself enjoy the moment, however fleeting. He feels good even without the malty beer he likes, and you're a fine substitute on that front.

Since your time with Pyramid Head, he's been spending more time around you in and out of trials. He was flattered when he saw your drawings of him for the first time, so he's willing to pose for you to draw him again so he has more pieces in his collection. Perhaps it's made him a bit overconfident, but he knows he must look good since your drawings accentuate every chiseled angle of his body. He's made it a point to show off in trials with you now, and it excites you every time.

Again, you find yourself in the Midwich School, this time teasing him as you lean against the piano with your chest puffed out and your eyes on him, waiting to see what he'll do next. He lays his knife against the wall and reaches behind you for the sheet music. "What are you doing with that?" you ask with a smirk, and he unfolds it like a book as another sheet of paper slips out.

It's like a blow to the gut when he shows you what it is; you thought you'd hidden those drawings well enough, and you wonder how long he'd kept it there. He knew nobody would find it, so he kept it just for you, just to tease you with your own work of art. It's you on the piano with him, no wonder he brought you here. Your eyes dart back and forth between the drawing and the flat iron plane, and eventually he puts the paper back on its stand in front of the sheet music.

Pyramid Head rubs your arm and moves his hand to your leg, hiking your leg up onto the bench like it is in the drawing. Your skirt rides up a little, and he picks you up to sit on the keys as they ring out in a terrible sound that just makes you laugh. It breaks the mood just a little, but when his fingers are pressed up against your panties, you're brought back in one heavy heartbeat.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as he rubs you around in circles, teasing you through the fabric that soaks in your arousal and rides between your lips. Your nipples show through your loose shirt, and he teases them with his other hand, guiding you to take it off so he can massage your breasts. Hearing your moans, he knows you want more, so he pulls your panties aside and rubs your bare skin, marveling in the sounds you make as his fingers pleasure you.

And then you feel one inside of you as his thumb keeps circling around; the other hand slides all up your torso and down your sides, feeling your movements as your back arches and your breaths grow heavier. If he could kiss you all over, he would, but his rugged palms will have to do. He slides his finger out and picks you up again to sit you on top of the piano, where he spreads your legs apart and massages your thighs.

Staring right between your legs, Pyramid Head makes you feel so exposed and vulnerable, but it feels so good the way he's turning your fantasy into something real. He likes you more than you thought he did, the way he pays such close attention to making sure he reaches every inch of you and touches you in all the right places. He won't be done keeping you on edge for a long while, and the more he plays with you, the more you want him inside you.

By now, you're turned over and facing away from him, and his hands are sliding along your back and down to your cheeks, prodding you more with his fingers and making himself so, dangerously desperate. But he won't give himself the release he needs; he keeps up with his hands, speeding up the thrusts of his muscular arms that don't seem to tire no matter how long he fingers you.