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cercandodiscrivere · 2 years

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Caged little bird | david sweat x reader.

word count | 4.9k

warnings | 18+, NSFW, dark themes (kidnapping, mentions of murder, stockholm syndrome), teasing, edging, fingering, porn with a lot of plot because even my sex fantasies need a context.

synopsis | When your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, you didn’t expect to end up in two fugitive’s way. When they decided to keep you alive, you didn’t expect to be forced to follow them both on their escape route to the north. Most of all: when one of them tied you to a bed to be sure you wouldn’t run away, you didn’t expect to find the situation… exciting.

attention: while this is a work of fiction, David Sweat and Richard Matt are two real people (and real are their crimes). I don’t mean to condone their actions: remember to appreciate the actors and the Stiller’s novelized version, not the real men.

“You wanted to keep a little pet-project, so you’re going to take care of it”.

Richard Matt had the peculiar talent to make even a whisper sound threatening. Everything in him (his tired posture while sitting, his droopy eyes, the eccentric way he drew out his sentences) made you think about a bored old dog. In the week you spent in his company you had often caught him looking at you through heavy lids, squinting and tilting his head, scheming. There was a time you had thought he was the least threatening of the two men you had crossed paths with, but you had soon changed your mind.

Sure, where David was strong and fast, Matt was weak and slow. If you ever managed to slip out of the makeshift handcuffs they kept you tied in, the old dog wasn’t going to be the one who would chase you through the woods. At first glance his younger accomplice fit the role of the menacing abductor better.

Maybe you were just a terrible judge of character; after all, on the dark evening you had crossed paths with your captors, you hadn’t recognized them as soon as you should have. With your car engine leaving you stranded just outside of the deep dark woods, seeing two unassuming hitchhikers with you on the road had made you feel safer. It took you one whole night as a captive before you managed to recall where you had seen their faces before (and that was when you realized your situation was even worse than what you had initially assumed).

David Sweat and Richard Matt, prison fugitives.

In the first days after their escape, both local and national newscasts had explained in excruciating detail how dangerous it would be to cross paths with them. You remembered the stories on why the men had ended up behind bars; tied in the trunk of you own car – one of the two men had managed to rescue it from the dirt mound you got it stuck in – you spent hours upon hours incapable of thinking anything but the words shot and dismembered.

So, no, Matt wouldn’t run after you (but he would bite, and chew).

“Bro, I just wanted to avoid getting caught after two days”. David wasn’t innocent either. He was a criminal, and a very dangerous one at that, but he also was the one who had vouched to keep you alive when you had met the two of them. He was the one who tied you, fed you (when the men were lucky enough to find something you all could eat), let you use the bathroom and even spoke to you with that calm voice of his like you were a human being.

He was far from a reassuring face, but at least it didn’t look like he was constantly pondering how to hide your body in the woods. David still remained your safest companionship option even if in the past couple of days his mood hadconsiderably soured: ever since the two ex-cons had decided to ditch your car in favor of walking through the thick woods again, Matt had started limping, slowing down the escape and managing to enrage his usually quiet partner. You had quickly learned how to be on the young man’s good side, but it felt like constantly living on the edge of a cliff.

You always remained quiet, attempting to make yourself smaller, speaking only when spoken to – you tried not to think how lately those quick interactions with David had started to feel more and more like actual conversations. You didn’t want to admit to yourself how you missed other people so much that even one kind word from your captor made your day.

That night though, luck was on the two criminals’ side. You had found a cabin hidden within the trees; a proper little vacation house, which meant that just for once you had more than one couch to share (and maybe something to eat that wouldn’t taste like wet cat food). Alas, it also meant you would have to leave fast before someone came to visit.

In that moment you were sitting on the toilet (a real toilet opposed to the hole on the ground you were growing used to) listening to the men’s newest discussion. David wanted Matt to walk faster and complain less, while Matt still didn’t like the idea of having you around. You had wondered more than once why they insisted on being a pair. Splitting roads seemed to be the right solution to all their complaints – and yet there probably was a binding prison rule you weren’t aware of, something along the lines of you escape together, you stick together.

“We’ll leave her on the border with Canada. That way, we’ll be safe even before someone could find her”.

“She still knows where we want to hide. She probably heard us talk about it”.

You weren’t sure at what point of the investigation the cops were. Initially, it was commonly believed David and Richard were trying to get to Mexico. That was partly the reason why you hadn’t worried too much when you had decided to travel solo, reassuring your worried friends that the short trip was going to be as smooth as oil.

Your first instinct was to beg and vow that you would keep your mouth shut, that if they let you go the cops would never know how much you had heard while being their captive… but deep down you knew it wasn’t the truth. They would know it wasn’t the truth.

“As a matter of fact…” the abrupt sound of the bathroom door opening sent you flying to the ground with a half-surprised, half-pained yelp. Matt’s pasty face peeped inside the small stall, observing you from above. “…Our little bird is listening to us right now. Aren’t you? Hoping you can fly far away from us, huh?”.

Well, yes. Of course. Cold waves of fear cursed through your whole body. “N-no. I’m sorry”.

Half covered behind his partner’s large figure, David’s face looked sour. While you never saw him outright smiling (their situation was stressful enough to wipe out any possible joy), he had never appeared so obviously annoyed about something.

What was worse, even with a panicked brain you could see Matt’s point of view; if the police were still looking for them in the south, that meant you were the only living person outside of the duo to know their real plans to go north.

That made you a liability.

Some part of you also realized Matt didn’t inherently hate you. To him you were just a dead weight, a third mouth to feed, the only witness to their secret plans for survival. He needed to live and you were a danger to his goal.

It was horrifying, but you understood. One week with the two of them had been enough for you to gather an impossible amount of information – their intricate bond, how they covered their tracks, who was going to help them once they crossed the border.

It wasn’t personal – and yet, knowing that didn’t make anything in your situation better.

With a deep sigh David opened the bathroom’s door wider, letting you out. Your wrists were still tied together (they had found a pack of cable ties in your car, the same ones you had used a month prior while moving to your new house). “C’mon, it’s late. We should rest”.

The last sentence was directed to Matt, who didn’t dignify his accomplice with an answer – his eyes were still on your bent form, unmoving. He had started calling you little bird as a way to endearingly mock you, but you really felt like a sparrow with a broken wing.

Caged and helpless.

David knocked on the wooden door, getting your attention back on him. “We’ll take the bed, Richard is going to sleep on the couch” days ago he would have left you on the floor. You resolved to count his decision to share a mattress as a win. He didn’t look like the type that treated his future victim with kindness (and you had to admit that, besides the rudeness that came with being a criminal and a captor, he had always been somewhat humane with you).

You stood up from the floor, trying to show as much gratitude as you could without uttering a word. Passing close to Matt through the small bathroom’s door frame, you couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at the faintest smell of rot the older man emanated. Daring to raise your eyes to study his face now that you were closer, you noticed how pale he was – bordering on green, with deep, dark circles adorning his red eyes.

The image of a rabid, sick dog came to your mind.

“Want a picture, little bird?” he mumbled. Even his breath was nauseating – and you were well aware the three of you didn’t have enough water to bother to brush your teeth up until that evening, but that was way worse. You still shook your head, lowering your gaze once again. “No? Then get out of the way”.

At that, David grabbed the plastic chain around your wrists and pulled you out in the small corridor, using your own arms as a leash. The movement was harsh enough to gain a little whine from you. If he heard it, the man chose to ignore it, letting you follow him to the small bedroom you were going to share for the night.

The space was cold (that June hadn’t been kind on the population), yet you were silently thankful anyway. At some point while you were in the bathroom David had managed to shove one of the wooden wardrobes in front of the window, blocking the frame. It was too heavy for you to push. Even with complete use of your hands, you were not going to escape while he slept. The realization didn’t bother you as much as it should have.

It almost felt as if you had reached your lowest point ever. The more time you spent with David, the more you started to feel bad for him. It was too easy, looking at his furrowed brows (worried, always so worried about everything) to forget who he was and what he had done – to you and to others. You faintly recalled reading something about physical attractiveness and perceived guiltiness in criminal justice, how a man could fool jurors into thinking he was innocent if he just was attractive enough. Was that the reason why you felt more inclined towards David’s seemingly sweet demeanor, as opposed to Matt’s weirdly eccentric one?

After a mere week with him, it almost felt like you could read him like a book. On nights like this, when he had just finished talking with Matt and the tension in the air was so thick you could snap it in half, you had to fight the instinct to pat him in the back and reassure him that everything was going according to his plans.

“Sit on the bed, hands high” the command wasn’t new (for the past week your night routine had always started with him tying you to either something or himself), but it still sent shivers down your spine. His tone was resigned. Gone was the rage you had seen a glimpse of in the hallway. It appeared as if he was on the verge of crying, all the nervousness and anxiety of the past days building up inside him in a whirlwind. You could almost see the words you heard from his previous conversation with Matt still soaring inside his head: that wasn’t good – you needed to be on his good side. You wanted at least one of your captors to be interested in keeping you alive and well.

“I heard what Matt said” you tried. Your voice was hoarse and low from disuse, little more than a whisper. Usually David was the one who started all your conversations – and most of the times those were one-sided discussions where he simply pondered his next steps aloud, leaving you the simple role of listening and nodding. “About me” you clarified, still raising your arms above your head to show compliance.

David shook his head, dismissing your worries. “He’s anxious, that’s all”.

A beat passed. “They know we’re headed north” he confessed. Even if you understood with they he meant the police (the good guys) you couldn’t help but feel your stomach sink. Living with two fugitives, even for a short period of time, had made you scared of outside interference. For some reason, now the idea of someone finding your little trio terrified you even more than the possibility of having to remain at your captor’s mercy for another week.

Now facing you, hands still tightly clasping your wrists, David let out another sigh. “Matt’s got a stomach bug or something. It’s slowing us down. I… I think it will come to a point I’ll have to-” he stopped.

You didn’t need him to finish the sentence. He, too, noticed how counterproductive their decision to stay together was. Something about the thought of leaving his ally filled him with guilt, but you knew their separation was closer than ever. It was the right moment to show him how much more valuable than Matt you could be.

You shifted closer to David, almost without noticing. His grip hardened around your wrists. “I’ll tie you to the headboard, but your legs will be free. Don’t make me regret it”. A stern look. “Stay still”. The implication was clear: end of the conversation, all you had to do was be a good captive and let him sleep.

The moment after he leaned over you, quietly working with the cable ties and your arms. Even without raising your gaze you already knew he was adding another ring of sturdy plastic to the ones around your wrists, binding you to the metallic bedframe. His torso, covered by a dark red checkered shirt he had probably found in one of the room’s wardrobes, was right in front of your eyes.

“Too tight?” he gave an experimental pull, waiting for your answer. Two days prior, he had surprised you with a couple of old rags, adding them to the side of your handcuffs closer to your skin, making sure your wrists wouldn’t hurt too much.

You quickly shook your head, failing to completely convince him (was he still thinking about you as a liability? An obstacle between himself and his long-awaited freedom?). His big eyes shifted down at your face searching for something; the indication, maybe, that you were lying about the looseness of the ties just because you wanted to free your hands later on.

It wasn’t the first time you were that close to each other. When he and Matt couldn’t seem to find a roof to sleep under, David would tie one of your wrists to his own, forcing you to lay against him. With time, the closeness had become a welcome habit – even somewhat reassuring. You forgot the exact moment you had started to seek the warmth of his body, lulled to sleep by the faint smell of soil and leaves on his skin.

In a sudden burst of confidence you responded in kind, staring up with wide eyes.

He had thin lips, chapped by dehydration. You should have been completely repulsed by him.

And yet.

He exhaled, you inhaled. Yes, by then you two were used to being this close to each other, but it was the first time both of you seemed to be aware of it. He kept staring at your face as if he was still searching for something you were hiding from him, but his hand cradling your chin was soft (and the effect of his look was maddening; how could a dangerous man like him be allowed to have such pretty, almost innocent eyes?). His face was angelic, and the way his fingers flexed around your wrists made your spine tingle. You tried to ignore that though, pressing your thighs together. The simple movement made your body shift lower towards the end of the bed, stretching your arms almost painfully over your head. That seemed to spur something in David.

“Not tight enough, I see” was he teasing? Every trace of annoyance had disappeared off his features. He, too, was openly looking at your lips now, indecisiveness furrowing his brows. The hand that held your wrists lowered, callous fingers tracing down your neck, then across your collarbones, stopping at your left shoulder. It sent a jolt through your body.

“Remember what I told you?”. Yes. No. Your mind felt too hazy to produce a coherent thought. “Be a good girl and stay still.”

Something about the way your body squirmed under his pleased him to no end, but Matt was just one room away. David had already shared someone with him – albeit quite unwillingly – and while he didn’t care if Tilly would rot in hell (lying, treacherous whore) he didn’t want to give his partner any weird ideas.

All his life, David had used his looks to his favor: he was well aware of how unassuming he looked – even his towering figure, when compared to the other inmates, failed to make him appear too dangerous. Walking hunched and keeping his head down had worked wonders for his life in prison. People tended to leave him in peace, not out of fear but disinterest. In him, Tilly had seen the excitement of having a sordid affair with a convict without the real risk of entangling herself with someone like Murder (or even Angel, however pure his nickname could make him seem).

The truth was a bit different.

He was a loner, but that just meant he knew how to defend himself without any help. He had single-handedly drilled his way out of jail thought concrete walls, underground pipes and bricks: he was cautious – but not weak.

Your compliant demeanor, the way you needed him, reminded him just how powerful he could be now that he was out of the confinement of his old cell. He didn’t need to please an old deluded woman to keep himself afloat: he was the one in charge.

You were his pet-project, after all.

“David”.

The way you whispered his name (reverently, like a prayer) snapped him back to reality. Without thinking, he had positioned himself between your legs – and how nice of you to spread them even further apart to accommodate him.

“Please”.

His head went slack against your shoulder, a groan slipping past his lips as he groped at your chest. You moaned and arched your back into his touch as one of his hands travelled up your body to palm one of your breasts.

“Silence” he ordered you softly, moving his hands down from your chest to the waistband of your trousers. Strong fingers pushed past the elastic band, immediately finding hot flesh; you didn’t wear any underwear, not since you had changed your clothes with the ratty t-shirt and pants David had found for you two nights prior.

You jumped when he made contact and squirmed against him.

Again, he was elated by the way you respond to his touch. How long had passed since David had this kind of contact with someone? Not the pitiful quick moments shared in a prison closet, but a good and satisfying proper fuck?

He preferred not think that was the reason he had decided to keep you with him the night you got stranded with your car, but in that moment he couldn’t help to feel like this is exactly what you were meant for (to be under him, arching your back to get closer to his body, whining).

The pad of his middle finger brushed your folds, almost toying with you. For once, he decided to savor that moment as long as he could: he took his time sliding your trousers down your legs while you lifted your hips to help him.

“God, you’re drenched” that didn’t need an answer, but you pathetically nodded anyway, dragging a wolfish grin out of David. It took him so little to rile you up he struggled to believe you were the same woman he had found nervous and trembling on the bathroom floor just five minutes ago. While he cupped your cunt in his palm, his other hand went to clamp around one of your thights in an attempt to still you.

The little whines escaping from your lips seemed to spur him on. The more desperate you sounded, the slower he decided to move; your string of please more, pleasepleaseplease went unnoticed while he kept prodding at your entrance with slow, feather strokes.

Desperate, you arched your back once more, rolling your hips against his, cunt clenching around nothing. Your cheeks were burning so hot you tried to hide your face in the inside of your arm.

“Needy little thing” he soothed, his breath almost incandescent on the exposed skin of your outstretched neck. Even unable to look at him, you knew by his tone how satisfied he was with your distress. That’s when he decided to give in, plunging two of his fingers fully inside you. His thumb dragged over your clit, eliciting another whine from you.

“Shhh” he hummed, nibbling at your jaw. Even if you were to be completely silent, the room would still be filled by the obscene wet sound of his fingers pumping inside your cunt.

You still bit you lower lip, trying to be good for him – but it was impossible. Some distant part of your brain noticed how the hand that wasn’t buried inside you had travelled down between his own legs to palm at his cock though his trousers.

The mere idea of having David hovering above you, absorbed in pleasuring you (and yet so turned on that he couldn’t help but to touch himself in the process) sent you closer and closer.

Heath flared through you, pooling in your lower abdomen. If only your hands were untied, you would throw them around his neck, grinding yourself to his body – the mere idea you could use that little freedom to run far from him was completely gone from your mind. You could only feel the way his fingers sunk deep, up to his knuckles (but you had studied him so attentively you knew how the ‘B’ and ‘F’ tattooed on his phalanges would disappear inside of you).

The sticky-wet sound vibrating around the small bedroom should have been enough to make you want to hide your face once again, if only you were lucid enough to notice.

Your hips tilted forward as he slid one more finger into your core, clenching even harder. His palm now completely flat against your pelvis, David let out another groan.

“Silence” you reminded him, your old sarcastic self resurfacing and gaining you a rough bite on your shoulder – one that, you knew, would leave a dark mark on your flesh. Coarse lips brushed against your skin, curling in a sardonic smile.

“Oh, are you worried someone could hear us?” he taunted, and his fingers slipped out with a slick pop! while your eyes opened in shock. The sudden emptiness left behind was almost painful; worse, now that you could feel all the heat coiling in your core starting to vanish. “We can always stop” and the mocking tone felt so cruel you swore in that moment you could cry.

The way your head started shaking was panicked, borderline manic. “Please” you begged, and even through your clouded mind you could hear his soft chuckle. Part of you knew that wasn’t really the end of it. You could still tell how much David yearned for more than a quick finger-fuck, but you wanted to show him just how much his need matched with yours. “Please”.

He nodded, as if satisfied. His knuckles grazed your legs as he started to undo the elastic band of his own pants, one of his hands finding its way back to grasp your thigh, angling you. You forgot to breathe.

With all the care he showed up until that moment, you didn’t expect how abrupt the first slam of his hips into you would be. You cried at the sudden thrust, the high-pitched sound bouncing around the room.

“You have no idea what you do to me” David breathed, still pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck. Taking you by surprise, his hand unceremoniously slipped over your mouth. “Unfortunately, I really need you to not make a sound”.

Once fully inside, he shifted down, pressing his still clothed chest to your exposed one. There he was, filling you, enough of a stretch that it made your heart skip a beat.

His eyes darted all over your face as he set a slow but roguh pace. He was putting you in your place, reminding you who was in charge and who was supposed to be a pliant, good girl. “Now you won’t have trouble keeping quiet”.

By contradiction, muffled behind his rough palm, your moans could now be as hard as you wanted without the risk of attracting unwanted attention on yourself. It was a maddening feeling, one that made your eyes roll in the back of your head.

“We don’t want anybody to enter, right?” he asked, plunging so deep your whole body shifted up. With your wrists still tied to the bedframe above your head the angle was weird – but perfect, letting him hit the right spot with every thrust. “We don’t want anybody to see what you would let someone like me do to you”.

This wasn’t your David (if in the past week there ever was a version of David Sweat that you could have called yours at all). The cautious man who agreed to his accomplice’s every whim was gone.

Perhaps that version of him had never existed, no more than mask masterfully created to make him look innocuous, harmless.

The thought should have scared you – this new side of David was unknown, it could be a dangerous change to your balanced relationship – but it only made your edge closer and closer. You weren’t even sure how much more you could take, and yet it wasn’t enough.

“Fuck” he hissed, and the grip of his fingers around your hip became so strong it felt as if he was digging to the bone. Drool started gathering around the edges of your mouth, coating his hand. “Are you coming already?” and even if his intent was to poke fun at you, his own moans were getting louder. Right as you arched your back once more and the orgasm hit you, he started whispering your name like a mantra, mumbling praises under his breath.

There was only one beat more before you felt his hot come spilling inside you. His hand slipped away from your face, leaving a trail of spit on your cheek, but his warm weight remained over you, both suffocating and reassuring.

After, when he pulled out and you had just started to relax under the covers (spent and sticky, but satisfied) he crawled over to give you a chaste kiss on your tortured lips – so soft you almost lost it as you dozed off.

“Good girl”.

When you woke up, it was daylight again. The sun had managed to find its way past the wardrobe that covered the window, a soft glint that turned the whole room yellow. Squinting, you could see specks of dust dancing in the air just above your head.

Your side of the bed was cold – the woolen blanket doing nothing against the chill morning air – and the spot next to you was even colder. Yet, even if you realized you had been left alone under the covers, you could still feel the presence of someone else in the room.

Not David, though. “Pleasant night, little bird? I couldn’t sleep, some kind of noise kept me awake”.

Matt was near the door, lazily leaning against the wooden frame. His eyes were roaming up and down your figure, still secured to the headboard, but he looked more curious than hostile.

“Seems like you found a way to stick with us.”

If the comment didn’t attract your full attention, his next move did. He suddenly brought two fingers to his lips, sucking a gust of air in, as if smoking an invisible cigarette.

He had to be in a playful mood.

Inhale. “Do you know how we managed to escape from prison?”. Exhale.

Even though you could hear the soft clutter of cans and plates being handled from the kitchen, you didn’t know what to think about Matt’s appearance in the bedroom. David was still in the house, in all likelihood preparing food for the three of you, making you feel somewhat safer.

“No”.

It was true. The news had reported someone else was involved in the break out, but you couldn’t remember if their identity (or their role in the whole ordeal) had been revealed.

Instead of explaining further, Matt smiled, looking far too pleased for your tastes. Not knowing what he was talking about made you uneasy. “You are smarter than you look” he commented, breaking the silence once more. He even hinted a small bow to your direction – a mocking gesture you didn’t even try to understand.

“Great minds think alike, little bird”.

And with that, he was gone.

#david sweat #david sweat x reader #escape at dannemora #paul dano #paul dano x reader #danonation #fem!reader

157 notes · View notes

light-is-typing · 2 years

Note

Would you be down to write an Escape at Dannemora inmate sweat fic? I feel like it would be so hot to have jail Paul fuck a guard on a night shift or something 🙊. He acts so hard it’s definitely has me feeling some type of way!

Quiet

David Sweat x GN!AFAB!reader

Word count: 1.5 K

Summery: Reader wakes David late at night for a little help at the sewing room

Tags/warnings: NSFW!! Finger sucking

A/N: first time writing smut imma curl into a ball and hide away

It had been a very quiet night.

David Sweat was sitting on his bed, trying to draw an unsuccessful self portrait, when soft footsteps made him freeze in place. It wasn't that he was scared per say, but he couldn't deny the cold sweat damping his forehead.

He slides the canvas and his pencil under the bed with skillful speed and lays down, trying to soften his light panting.

"I know you're awake inmate Sweat." A whispery voice taunts at him.

David can feel his slight annoyance at the know it all voice.

"I've got something to show you." the voice is tempting. David sighs and rolls around to look at the figure standing on the other side of the metal bars. He's trying his best to keep his temper down but something about this.. Surprisingly beautiful guard? screams danger.

Your fingers play with the keys in almost humorous manner. David shifts his body into a sitting position again. Your face lighten with a satisfied smile, and you put the keys in the cell's door, turning them around slowly as to not make a sound.

The door opens slowly, and you move out of the way, signaling him with you hand yo get up and follow you. He doesn't know why, but he does.

You guys walk silently, without exchanging any words, until you get to ta place he knows very well - the sewing room.

You walk around the sewing machines, and David follows you, his hand caresses them gently, it looks like being here gives him confidence, and his back straightens, his steps become heavier.

You stop in front of a big closet and turn around to face him, he doesn't stop in time and bumps into you.

"Woah, easy there" you chuckle.

"Sorry" he mutters, but he isn't really.

"Well," you squirm back. "I was informed that you're the best of the best in sewing here." A cocky smile stretches his lips. "And I was hoping you could help me with a special little project I'm working on" You finish.

"Hmm.. Let's see it" he gestures to the door, and you open it. Kneeling down, you take out a carton box full of cut out fabrics. You then look up at him. "I've been trying to make some bunny plushies for my little niece" you explain. David raises an eyebrow. "Bunny plushies?" His tone is almost mocking.

"Well, yes." You're slightly annoyed at his cockiness. "And as the best here, I was hoping you'd help me, but if you don't feel like it I can just put you back in your cell" you puff.

"Hey, relax" he hand out his hand, suggesting his help; you take it, and he pulls you close.

you suddenly feel very small.

"I was just wondering what I get out of this." His hand hasn't left yours. In fact, his hold is firm, almost uncomfortably so, but instead of being scared, you feel a certain warmness forming in your stomach.

"Well.." Your voice breaks. "Ughm, well, what would you like?"

He doesn't answer immediately, instead, his pulls you in even closer.

"Can I ask for anything I want?"

"We'll see."

You try to back away, but even he notices it is an embarrassingly lazy attempt.

He chuckles, and you notice how white his teeth are, it makes a certain pulse go through your stomach and travel down to your panties. You swallow thickly. His eyes pierce you, a faint trace of a smile rests on his lips as his eyes travel all across your body, almost hungry looking. They then return to your eyes, and he looks directly at you when he says "I want to get to know you better."

"And just how are we going to do that?" You question.

"Well," David's hand leaves yours and slides up your thigh, making you gasp. "I think you have a slight idea." You swallow again, and lean against the table in the closet. David pushes you backwards, so now you're sitting on the table. Your legs open by themselves, and David takes on the invitation to get closer to you. He's just a bit taller than you, but with you sitting you seem much shorter than you are.

David leans down, and you feel his breath on your skin; it surprisingly smells minty, and you feel another tingle in your clit, which makes you shift your eyes down shamefully.

Then you feel a warm hand under your chin, and David lifts your head up so your eyes lock up again. He leans in even closer and thumb traces your lips - which part automatically. He smirks and shoves his thumb in slightly and a quiet moan escapes your lips, and makes you go beet red, which seems to only make him cockier. He pushes himself against you, and the brush of his surprisingly hard cock against your clit, even through your pants, brings a slight relief to your ache; you take in on the offer and grind against him, now getting used to hearing your whimpers bounce around the closet. David shoves his thumb deeper and it makes you gag, but he doesn't seem to mind, he's too busy focusing on how good your cunt feels against him. He leans down and bites your ear, before whispering to it softly "you better stay quiet" before backing away. A disappointed whimper leaves your lips, only to be cut away by a strong hand groping your cunt. You then hear another chuckle. "You're so wet already" he whispers against your ear, and you shamefully realize your slick has already wet your pants.

"Sorry" you murmur, having a hard time speaking with his thumb still pushing on your tongue.

"No need to apologize," he scoffs, "I like it."

And with that you melt into his hand, grinding your pulsing clit against him eagerly and making stifled sounds. His hand wettens with your slick until the movements are sloppy and fast, you squirm under him and your breaths become short and stuttered. "I think I'm gonna-"

He backs away again, and you look at him, confused. "Why'd you stop?"

"You think you're the only one allowed to have fun?" He asks half seriously.

"Oh."

His wet hand leaves his belt shiny as he unbuckles it. His hand disappears inside his pants, and he storkes himself a few times before taking his cock out, and you gasp at the size of it. It's not too big, but it's definitely not too small. He shifts himself closer to you again, and his now free cock brushes against you. His hard form is even better feeling against you and a loud moan breaks from you.

"Please David" you breathe out, and he doesn't need anymore encouragement.

A firm hand slides down your pants, then your panties, and an experienced thumb brushes gently at your clit.

"Fuck-" you practically scream at the touch."more. More!" You beg, but his hand leaves you needy and wanting more, as it goes back to stroking himself. He then guides himself and lands at your entrance, only to tease it, pushing in slightly, then coming back out, sending electricity all through your body. Finally you've had enough, and you push down at it, moaning satisfyingly as he hits a good spot. The feeling of your walls against him changes something in his actions - they become sloppy and almost compulsive, as he groans and holds you down by your chest, pushing even deeper. His hand travels upwards as he starts fucking into you, and lands on your neck, holding it to balance himself. Two fingers lay on your chin, touching your bottom lip, and your pink tongue greets them, as if to ask - "can I taste you?"

He agrees to the silent question immediately and shoves them in again, moaning as your wet tongue explores them, and you can feel him twitch inside you; and you wonder if he's already so close to cumming.

Your thoughts are cut with the feeling of his strong thumb rubbing you again.

"God- David-" you bite down at his fingers.

"Shhh" He hushes you aggressively, a slight trace of pain on his face. As you look up, you explore them. His high cheekbones are colored red and are shiny with sweat, even his buzzed hair his all shiny.

Him quickening his movements brings you back to the feeling in the lower part of your body, and his thumb matches his pace, sending pulses of pleasure through your body.

He doesn't stop this time, and you're surprised to hear a high pitched whimper slipping out of his mouth, and he shivers.

You try to, but you can't help but smirk at how desperate he got so fast; but then again, the throbbing in your core argues in his defense.

Suddenly his movements stop, and he's panting, trying to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, if you want me to last longer I need to-"

You're having none of that, and you push down into him, taking control as you fuck yourself into him again and again.

"Please, I'm serious if you keep doing that- fuck!" And you feel a familiar hoteness filling you as he twitches and shivers and rutts into you.

The hotness against the right spot pushes you over the edge, and a hushed scream echoes in the closet.

"Hello?" A muffled voice outside the closet cuts your orgasm, and as your wide eyes meet David's, both your hearts sink as you come to the same realization. Oh no.

#david sweat #escape at dannemora #paul dano x reader #paul Dano #inmate sweat #david sweat x reader

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