Work Text:
A week.
It’s been a week since the last time you’ve seen Michael. Not to mention your car as well. You were still in bed, curled in on yourself as you stared off into the void. Losing yourself in the negative thoughts that swirled in your mind. Every passing car made you run towards the window of your room, but as time went on a part of you wished it wouldn’t be him.
His long phases of disappearing became more frequent. So much to the point you’d see him collectively for a week or so a month. Two if you were lucky. His presence when he’d come home would be that of a wall. Paying you little to no attention, secluding himself in rooms for hours at a time, and the only time you’d really be near him is during meals and when it was time to sleep.
Tears formed in your eyes, “I am nothing to him anymore.” You hugged your pillow tightly as you stained it with tears.
The sudden vibration of your phone on the nightstand made you jump. You were not going to answer it, but a quick glance over displayed your best friend’s name and picture. Shit. You sighed as you sat up, hunched over as you still grasped tightly at your pillow.
You cleared your throat and wiped your now-stuffy nose with your hoodie. You brought the phone up to ear, “Hey!” You tried your best to mask your quavering voice.
“Yo! Hey. . . you good ?”
Of course your friend would read through your fake cheerful disposition.
While you were an excellent liar when necessary, having a friend that's known you since primary school would be setting yourself up to failure. You couldn’t lie. You rubbed your wet eyes with a sigh, “N-no. . .if I’m going to be honest.”
“Do you need me right away? Do I need to beat a bitch up for you, huh? What do you need, man?”
You let out a light little chuckle, “You’ve always been so good to me.”
“Just as good as you are to me my dude”, you could tell your friend was smiling on the other side, “But I’m being for real - do you need me to scoop right now? Y’know what? Get your ass ready I’m taking you -”
“No no no! You don’t -”
“Ah! Wrong answer. Twenty minutes, loser. Love you.”
You shook your head, “Love you too.” You hung up and threw the phone on the bed, watching it plop around. Bare feet made contact with the carpet as you slowly rose from the bed.
As you slipped into your black jeans you were content with your outfit. That is, until you stared down at the big snot stain plastered on the front of your hoodie. God, I’m fucking gross. Snatching the next hoodie option available from your closet, you threw it on and walked out into the living room.
You stared out the window, noting the still empty driveway. Drop it, stop thinking about him. . .
He doesn’t care about you. . .
You slowly folded in on yourself, making yourself smaller as you hugged yourself. “He never did. . .”
‘Michael? Michael please - you’re hurting me! Michael! ’
Michael gasped as he awoke from his nightmare. His heart was beating so hard he held his hand down firmly against his chest. Fearing somehow it would escape him. He slowly sat up from the back seat of your car and sighed, finally catching his breath from the fright his dream had given him.
It has been a recurring dream - no, nightmare - he’s been having for the past year he’s been with you. And most nights it’s always the same scenario. Him hurting you.
He knew deep down he never would hurt you. However, somewhere deep in his mind the thought has haunted him. Plagued him. And with fifteen years of being called a ‘monster’, ‘the devil’, and ‘evil’ since six. One begins to believe it. So how could he really trust himself? Consequently, as time went by, he decided that the best way to keep you safe is to create this space between you.
But why? Why create space between you two? Is it because he has developed feelings for you? Nonsense! Michael Audrey Myers is as Dr. Loomis stated: emotionless. . .no understanding of anything rudimentary. . .no conscience.
Michael fiddled with his hands, dusting off the flakes of dry blood that accumulated the night before. Surely he was very much a monster - sparing nobody he’d hunt down. Bringing their life to a bitter end by any means necessary. He could have done the same to you. Could have sunken his butcher knife so deep into your neck the tip would dig into the floor beneath your body as you choked on your own blood.
‘But I didn’t. . .’, he thought to himself. Why? Is it because when you found him sitting in his own pool of blood in the backyard, you dragged him into your place and tended to his wounds as best as you could. Unaware of who he was because he had tucked his mask into his workmen overalls. You treated him with compassion, with care, with decency. In all, you were the first person in over fifteen years to truly treat him like a human .
Michael won’t ever forget the day you uncovered who he was. What he’s done. What he still does:
“I’ve been harboring a serial killer, haven’t I?” you asked nervously.
Michael sighed before nodding his head. He began to fidget around with his hands in his laps. ‘They’re going to call the cops’, Michael said to himself. However when you came closer and sat next to him he couldn’t help but have a look of confusion plastered on his face.
This no-longer mysterious man has been living with you for over two weeks now. ‘How stupid and clueless can I be?’ you asked yourself. But you were far too deep, have helped this man far too long - if they ever caught him, or knew you were housing Haddonfield’s most wanted for that long. You knew damn well your fate would end either by his own knife, or be caged in a 6-by-6 room.
You rubbed your neck, letting out a huff of air as you finalized your idea. Stupid idea.
“I have a proposition.”
A loud car horn brought Michael out from his memories and back to where he was. In the back seat of your car, located in a random shopping plaza thirty or so minutes from home. Home. Where Michael wishes to be right now. But he can’t. Not right now. He needed those thoughts and images of himself doing the unthinkable to you to ebb away into the darkness. For as long as possible. So tonight, before he decides to drive back home, Michael made it his goal to be drenched from head to toe with crimson.
'It'll be the only way I know I can keep you safe. . .'
"Here are those meals", the waiter said with a smile.
You and your best friend fixed up the table to make it easier for the waiter to set your plates down. A series of 'thank yous' spilled from you guys' mouths until the waiter disappeared. You two exchanged small talk - catching up on the latest life updates. It was nice. Nice to be around someone that actually spoke back to you.
‘That wasn’t nice’, you thought to yourself. Giving a small disapproving shake. You knew Michael was very much so capable of communicating. Nonverbally of course, but he still did his very best. And you became an expert in decoding every part of him. ‘Or so I thought. . .’
“Hey”, your friend reached across the table and placed their hand on yours. “So tell me what’s been happening.”
You retracted your hand, placing both of them in your lap. Out of habit you began to rub your hands nervously. You looked over at your friend and took a deep breath, “I think the person I’m with no longer loves me.” Your lip slightly quivering as your body was threatening to break down on the spot. But you bit down on your tongue to help distract your brain.
“Damn dude, I never even knew you were seeing someone. I’m sorry to hear that. ”, your friend stated.
“I just wanted to keep it lowkey, y’know? To see how it works out”, you looked away. You couldn’t really tell them the truth, and it pained you. But what would you say? ‘Oh hey I’ve been living with Michael Myers - yeah the serial killer that is still on the run!’ No way in fucking hell.
“Totally understandable”, they nodded their head. “Do you want to spill it on me?”
“I don’t want to make this all about me -” you began.
“Dude, as your best - no, bestest friend - your well being is important to me. It’s okay, you can spill it all. Let it out.” They pointed their fork at you with a serious look.
You could already feel the pressure of tears build in your face, but with every ounce of muscle you kept them at bay.
“It began a couple months ago”, you began. “Y’know I always just thought it was him just needing extra space. He’s like that. And so I brushed it off, but it came to a point he’d disappear for days. No note, no nothing. A-and when he came home it was like I barely existed.”
You smiled, but it was your coping mechanism kicking in. The pain was evident, but you continued even with your voice coming out strained and cracked. Your friend reached over and held your hand.
“I just feel li-like I’m just being used. Th-that I’m nothing but a body providing him a space to live and eat. And it hurts me be-because. . .”, you paused.
“Because you love him”, your friend said softly.
Your hands flew to your face as you broke down completely. The palm of hands collecting your tears that fell, smearing them as you shielded your face from the world.
“I d-d-do, and I feel so stupid for falling in love with him”, you admitted. “I’m more lonely than ever and if I spend another Goddamn minute alone I’m going to lose it.”
“I know I can’t speak or confront him myself for you, but what I can do is offer you a bed back at my place”, they said sincerely. “I have a spare bedroom for when my friend’s come to visit from out of town. You can stay there for as long as you want. Actually, here.”
You watched as your friend dug into their backpack, removing their mess of a lanyard. They searched through the handful of keys, pushing away the small charms that dangled from it as well. Another second later and a small silver key was held in front of your face.
“I can’t take -”
They pushed the key into your hand, “Yes you can. It’s a spare that I want you to have. Whenever you make that decision, you know where to crash.”
You looked down at the key you now held in your palm. Clenching it as you took a deep breath.
Hours later you were back home. A smidgen of hope was still left in your heart, but when the porch light wasn’t on - you knew. You fidgeted with the key in your pocket as you walked into the dark house. Illuminating the hallways as you made your way to the bedroom.
You stared at your backpack that hung on the closet door knob. Losing yourself to the thought of Michael coming home, wondering where you’ve gone. How he’d tear the house apart just to find you. Leaving him clueless, frustrated, angry, and upset? No, Michael couldn’t be upset. That would suggest Michael gave a damn about you.
“And you don’t”, you said in a whispered voice.
You walked on over to the backpack and took it to the bed. You stared at it a minute longer. Contemplating the decisions you have at your disposal. You slowly sat at the edge of the bed, looking out the window into the dark night.
Michael raced home. Speeding and cutting corners as fast as he could to get home to be in your presence. His bloodlust and thoughts buried deep from the heavy bloodshed he committed. The blood of his victims’ seeped deep into his overalls to the point the warmth of their blood touched and stained his skin underneath.
His heart raced just as fast as the car, and he doesn’t know why. Michael doesn’t comprehend why his heart races when he thinks of you, why his hands grow exponentially sweatier, or when he feels that uncomfortable sensation of heat rushing to his face. It all just confuses him.
A couple more blocks of speeding and Michael found himself slowing down as he entered your neighborhood. He turned off the headlights as he turned on to the street you lived on. The car slowly rolled into the driveway, and without wasting another second Michael climbed out the car and headed to the front door.
Quietly he opened the door with the spare key you gave him, and walked in. Noting right away the silent atmosphere. ‘It’s still too early for you to be in bed’, he thought to himself. As he treaded silently to the hallway he was met with you looking utterly shocked to see him.
Behind the mask a confused expression spread across his face as he stared at the backpack slung half-heartedly on your back. But it was the small suitcase by your feet that had Michael not only even more confused but staring coldly at you. Unmoving.
‘Are you leaving me?’
The two of you stared at each other. Not taking your eyes off each other for even a second. You hadn’t expected Michael at all. So to see his tall, looming figure - drenched in blood - shook you to the core.
“Mi-Michael”, your voice shook slightly. “I didn’t. . . I didn’t think you’d be here.” You watched as his hands opened and closed by his sides. The moment Michael took a step towards you, you instinctively took a step backwards. That action made him stop completely.
His heavy breathing filled the incredibly awkward and nerve-wracking situation. It was heavier and faster than usual. He could feel his heart beginning to pound aggressively as he realized you were going to leave without him ever knowing.
“Michael.”
He focused his dark eyes on you as you hesitantly spoke his name.
You cleared your throat, “Michael, I’m leaving.” Your brittle voice settling in the uneasy space between you two. Adrenaline ran through your veins. Your body shaking as you found the courage to continue. “I can’t. . . I can't do this anymore.”
Michael tilted his head, wondering what in the world was happening right now. He just got here and you're announcing to him that you were picking up and leaving? ‘What is going on. . .?’, he began to wonder.
"You're barely ever home a-and when you're home you treat me like I - I don't exist, and it hurts Michael.” you said in a taut voice. Tears slowly slid down your cheek, but you quickly wiped them away, “I feel so lonely, so used . A-and I'm just over it. I'm done. I'm done , Michael."
You pushed forward with your suitcase and backpack. Stepping to the side to move past the blood-soaked serial killer. You managed two steps past him before a strong pair of fingers wrapped tightly around your forearm. You tried pulling away, but the grip only became stronger- more painful the longer he held on. His hand mimicked the brutal strength of that of an eagle’s talons.
You didn't look back at him as your tearful eyes stayed glued on the front door. "Let go, Michael."
Michael's eyes were wide-open behind the mask. His chest rising and falling quickly. He tugged desperately at your arm to turn you around, to have you face him. 'What do you mean I use you? I only leave you to protect you! I don't understand!’ He clenched his jaw as he angrily reached down and tore the suitcase from your hand. Sending it flying blindly into the living room.
"Let me go, Michael." Your voice is as stern as ever.
Michael shook his head despite you not looking at him. He can't have you leave. He next grabbed at your backpack, trying to rip it off your back. ‘You can't leave, you can't leave, you. . .' , he repeated that over and over again as he continued to wrestle with the backpack.
You've had it. You snapped your neck back to look over your shoulders at him. A snarling expression sitting on your flushed, tear-stained face. "Let me leave, Michael! For fucks sake!"
Michael froze. His grip slightly loosening out of shock from you screaming at him. His heart felt like it was lodged in his throat - suffocating him. The only person he wanted to be around was abandoning him. The thought of that sent Michael into a state of bewilderment and desperation. He can't let you go, he can't let you leave. 'I won't let you leave me!’
You grabbed at his hand, trying to pry his fingers that most definitely left bruises on your skin. Tears and snot stained your face and you hated it. You begged him, sounding pathetic as your voice hiccupped, "Please just let me go. . ."
"N-no. . .", a hoarse muffled voice said.
You stopped wrestling with his grip immediately after hearing that rare voice answering you. "Wh-what?", you glared at him in disbelief. Without even noticing, you dug your fingers into his wrist - angered at the pure audacity he had to deny you. "No? NO?! How do you have the fucking audacity to even utter that word to me? After everything you put me through?”
You could see Michael’s eyes from your angle. The hostility in those dark eyes made you feel like a prey in the grasp of a predator. But there was something else in those eyes that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Michael has had enough. You weren’t going anywhere. He yanked at your arm, reeling you in till your back slammed into his chest. Arm locking you in place. He clamped his other hand down onto your mouth before you had the chance to let out a scream for help.
You kicked and screamed against him. Squirming in his iron grasp hoping you’d slip through, but like always - you never do. Your feet fell back onto their heels as Michael began to drag you deeper into the house. You screamed into his blood-covered palm, “I hate you! Let me go! Fuck you!” But it came out a garbled mess of sounds.
‘I’m going to die, aren’t I?’, you cried even harder against the palm of the man you love. Or loved.
Michael’s thoughts ran through him at one hundred miles per hour. All he knew is that he couldn’t let you leave. His eyes closed as he dragged you into the bedroom. Your screaming and crying sounded like the ones from his nightmares and he so desperately wanted to block it out. ‘Please, PLEASE be quiet!’, he gritted his teeth as you continued to fight against him. He couldn’t think, not with all this commotion. So he dragged you to the farthest corner of the bedroom where -
‘The closet!?’ You shook your head violently causing him to dig his fingers into your cheek. You tried to plant your feet against the floor to stop him from moving, but the carpet made it impossible. You kicked outwards to stop him from opening the closet door, but he quickly yanked you off to the side.
Michael nearly ripped the door off its hinges as he opened up the door. In one quick motion, he sent you hurling into the closet. Hearing your broken voice gasp for air. He quickly shut the door, leaning his entire weight against it as you pushed against it. His back felt all the hard banging you delivered with your fists against the wooden door.
You began to hyperventilate as the closet walls began to feel smaller and smaller. You shouldered the door repeatedly to no avail. “ Let me out! Let me out now! Let me - out!” , your throat grew incredibly painful as you screamed and cried out non-stop. The taste of metal invaded your tastebuds the more you continued. Your knuckles and palms were on fire - burning from banging repeatedly on the door.
Michael pressed his hands against his ears, ‘Stop stop STOP!’ He reached down into his pocket and pulled out his butcher knife. He drove it into the closet door a feet or so above your head. He wasn’t aiming for you, but he hoped it was enough to scare you to fall silent. It worked.
Michael listened as your blood-curdling cries turned into muffled, shuddering breaths. The serial killer sighed heavily from his nose, finally being able to hear his own thoughts.
You stared up with wide, fearful eyes at the large blade that pierced through the door. Michael could have easily killed you, easily sinking that blade deep into your body if he aimed lower. But he didn’t. Either way you took that as a warning and ceased your screams and pleas. You pressed your back against the door, sliding down onto your bottom. Staring blindly into the darkness of the closet.
Michael slipped off his mask as he slid down to the floor. Bidding it a couple of studying gazes before he threw it off to the side. He tucked his knees up towards his chest, resting his arms across them. He replayed your words over and over again:
‘. . . so lonely. . .used. . .barely home. . .don’t exist. . .’
Michael’s brows furrowed, ‘I do it to protect you. So why are you behaving this way?'
The air between you went silent, or as silent as it could get as you continued to suffer through the bouts of shuddered breaths from crying so hard. It seemed like forever that you two stayed this way. Leaning up against the door trying to wrap your heads around the situation that just erupted.
A meek, quivering voice finally interrupted the silence.
“Why hold onto someone you don’t truly love?” , you asked softly. Sounding defeated while at it.
Love? Michael slowly turned his head towards the door. Resting his temple against wood. He pouted ever-so slightly at your question. ‘Do I love you?’, he asked himself. No, it couldn’t be love. That’s nothing but a foreign concept, a foreign emotion. It was something he was incapable of. Right?
Michael stared up at the corkboard on the wall. Focusing on the polaroid picture you managed to sneak of the two of you one night. Thinking about your question even more. ‘Because you treated me like a human instead of the monster I truly am. And even then, when you knew of my monstrosities, you never once changed the way you treated me.’ His heart began to race at the thought of you once again.
He shook his head in annoyance as his heart felt like a timpani beating against his chest. From the very beginning, you plagued his mind. To the point the intensity and frequency of his thoughts reached an unspoken obsession.
When the swarm of nightmares began to creep into his mind most nights, he was willing to sacrifice the time he spent around you. He did not make those sacrifices for his own enjoyment. No, it was a painful compromise. To ultimately keep you safe and protected.
Whether he’d admit it or not, Michael felt at peace and secure around you. The most he’s ever felt in his entire life. And every time you’d touch him, kiss him, or make love - he basked in the tranquility your presence brought him.
"Michael. . ." You croaked out. "Are you there? Pl-please let me out." You slowly shifted onto your knees, wincing at the joint and muscle pain that throbbed throughout your body. You kneeled against the door like an animal begging to escape its confinement. "Please I promise I won't run - I promise! I just want to get out of here." You lightly tapped your fingers on the door, desperately hoping Michael would let you out.
Michael closed his eyes as he felt the light patter of your fingers against the wooden door on his temple. Hearing you call out his name made his stomach feel as though it was thrown into a whirlpool. He never wanted this to happen. And he wishes he can just explain everything to you. But he couldn't, and it frustrated him to no end. Still, he would try his best.
". . .I promise, Mi-"
The door creaked slightly as it opened up. You covered your eyes as the lights in the room felt as blinding as the sun. You could hear shuffling occur against the carpet, but you couldn't see. Your eyes had a hard time adjusting to the dramatic change from complete darkness to being hit with light. You reached out blindly, shuddering as your hands made contact with that well-known texture. You mouthed his name as you pulled at his overalls. Wincing at the pain that broke out across your knuckles.
Michael sat criss-crossed, watching you fumble and grasp at his blood-soaked overalls. His body leaned forward as you tugged harder, pulling him towards you. He noticed your bruised, bloody knuckles. 'Look at what you've done to yourself' , he sighed. Carefully he grabbed at your forearms to stop you from pulling at him.
Your body shook. Shaking as you felt his hands hold you tightly. Slowly your blurry vision began to fade, and it wasn't till you looked up at him did you finally notice that his mask wasn't on. The two of you stared at each other, trying to read one another - trying to communicate. You felt yourself on the verge of tears again as you looked into his troubled eyes. 'Had the threat of leaving him emotionally compromised him?' , you asked yourself. There was a sense of guilt that hit you.
You knew Michael's biggest struggle was emotions. He always had a hard time understanding his own, let alone others. Yet you knew very well that even with a lack of understanding, it didn't mean he was incapable of feeling or showing emotions, no. He was as emotional as the next person. But Michael was a complex man, and so were his ways of expressing said-emotions. Michael was not completely at fault, and neither were you. And it pained you that it had to reach this point.
Michael watched as your eyes became glossy once more. Somewhat surprised to see you were able to produce even the slightest tear after your emotional outburst. He pulled you towards him, until you laid against his chest.
". . .I'm sorry. . .", you gently cried out. You smothered your face into his overalls as you wrapped your arms around him. The smell of death transferring onto your clothes. A pair of rough hands grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at the curly haired man.
With his other hand he touched the smudges of dried blood he left on your face from when he covered your mouth. You could hear his breathing quicken the more he stared and touched you. 'Did he like to see me c-covered in blood?'
Michael leaned down and brought you into a kiss. Yes, yes he did.
Michael may have loved to see himself and you covered in blood, but you weren't quite the fan. It didn't quite fit you , perse. You found yourself beginning to lean back as Michael deepened the kiss. His tongue slipping into your mouth greedily wanting more. More of you. You pulled away, breathing hard from the lack of air Michael created.
While this may most likely be a mood killer, your stomach couldn't handle it anymore. You looked away, "Michael . . . I-I'm going to throw up. The smell, I can't."
A small curvature of his lips grew on his face as you clenched at your stomach. He always knew how much you couldn't handle the smell. Michael slowly stood up, pulling you up shortly after. Quickly catching you as your knees buckled from the prolonged time you spent on the ground. He led the two of you into the bathroom slowly.
You slowly sat down on the toilet seat cover as Michael closed the door. You could hear the little tick of the lock being turned and you slightly rolled your eyes. "You don't have to lock the door, Michael", you said. Michael simply looked back at you, with an unamused expression.
Without warning Michael began to undress. He started at his boots, kicking them off and placing them near the walk-in shower. He fumbled a bit with the zipper of his overalls, but eventually climbed out of them. He can feel you look away as he works his black shirt off. Leaving him in just his boxer briefs. Michael wasn't one to look at himself in the mirror unless a spark of curiosity caught him. He'd stand in front of the mirror and look at himself, as Michael - not The Shape . A reminder you suppose of him remembering the man underneath the mask. His dark eyes looked back at himself, noting the scars, bruises, and blood painting his body. This week has been an incredible week for him.
You snuck little views at him as he stared at himself in the mirror. You could feel your face grow red and you despised how easily you blushed. You brushed your knuckles gently with your fingers, pushing deep into the bruises that began to already show. 'Shit' , you said internally. Hoping you did nothing but badly bruise your knuckles. A heavy hand landed on your shoulder. You jumped a bit as you looked up to see Michael looking you up and down. Oh. . .
"I - uh, do you want to shower together?"
Michael simply began removing your hoodie with a nod. He ignored your protest of being able to undress yourself, and simply continued to do so. He took in every eye-roll, mumble, and raspy sigh you gave him. He grabbed your forearm, perfectly placing his hands over the bruises he created earlier, giving it a squeeze. Enjoying your face twitching in pain. He grabbed at your belt with his other hand.
'Take it off' , he demanded with his eyes.
"Okay, okay", you said as you reached down towards your belt. You cursed under your breath as your belt got stuck in one of the loops behind your back. You stood up abruptly, bumping slightly into Michael's chest, and removed the belt at last. 'Shoes first, dumbass' , you reminded yourself. You bent down, ripping at your laces until you could easily slide them off. As you looked up, you had realized the position you were in and couldn't help but feel your cheeks grow even hotter.
Michael noticed the slight pause in your movements when you looked up. A small smirk grew on his face before it disappeared once again. He watched intently as you struggled out of your jeans, till you stood there in your own boxers. He took a small step towards you until you two were nearly touching.
You looked at his cuts, paying close attention to one in particular on his abdomen. You clicked your tongue as your fingers came up and touched the gash that looked red and angry. ‘ Stupid! So stupid ’, you shook your head as you continued probing the area. Watching as Michael's stomach flinched and retreated from your touch. You sighed as you turned around, reaching into the shower to turn it on. As you played with the water's temperature, you noticed a pair of black boxer briefs hit the ground from your peripheral. A knot of saliva got caught in your throat knowing Michael was now fully naked.
Michael stood behind you, watching as you fiddled with the notch mindlessly. He knew the temperature was already correctly set. You were stalling this out and he read your intentions like a book. Michael glanced off to the side before he bent down and took a hold of your boxers' waistband.
Your eyes widened as you felt his fingers slip below your band, "Mich-". Before you could even finish your boxers sat on the tile floor next to his. You tried to turn around to scold him, but a large hand began nudging you into the shower. There was no point trying to retaliate at this point, your body was sore, your throat felt like it's been sliced repeatedly from the inside - overall at this point you just wanted to rest. A hoarse groan escaped your lips as the hot water touched your skin, the heat settling deep within your bones. 'God, I can sleep right here if I wanted to' , you thought.
Michael slowly slipped in as well, feeling his body go limp and relaxed as well at the heat. He pushed himself further underneath the shower head till his chest touched your back. His curls grew heavier with every passing second under the stream to the point his vision was nothing but dark brunette.
You leaned back into his touch this time, feeling his soft flesh help hold you up. The heat from it all was truly intoxicating. The hot water and steam relieves the stress off your aching bones and thoughts. 'I just want to rest. . .' , you said to yourself.
A loud snap echoed in the shower and before you could open your eyes and a pair of hands found themselves in your hair. Michael's heavy fingers worked the shampoo into a lather, coating your wet locks in a thick coat of suds. You bit your tongue, holding back the soft moans and whimpers that so desperately wanted to come out. Michael's hands dropped from your scalp to your waist, pulling you more directly under the stream to wash away the shampoo. Your world went dark as you closed your eyes under the stream. Out of instinct your mouth opened as you breathed. It burned . Every breath you took burned as the air scraped your abused esophagus.
Michael continued to hold your waist, watching as you just let the water do its job. He watched as your shoulders lowered and raised with each ragged breath. Knowing very well every breath you took burned with pain. 'Idiot’ , he thought to himself. Michael finally released your waist and worked on his hair as you washed your body.
You slowly worked your way into a corner to scrub yourself. This allowed Michael more space to work with and to move around. However, Michael wasn't too keen on giving himself space right now. Nor you. Michael's body boxed you in the corner you placed yourself in.
You looked up at him, "What?"
Michael watched as you scrubbed your arms. Following your hand’s every move, every motion as you worked the loofah lower down towards your naval. He knew he was making you nervous by the way you no longer could hold your stern look at him. This excited him. Michael felt his flaccid cock slightly twitch at the thought of making you feel exposed, vulnerable, and powerless. He knew you were a fighter, never giving in easily. Just the way he likes it.
As you bent down, you couldn't help but mumble a string of curse words. You placed yourself in a corner, knowing damn well Michael would take advantage of trapping you. As you began to straighten up, a heavy hand weaved themselves into your wet locks keeping you bent. "Ow - you fuck", you winced out. He kept pushing you down and down until you had no choice but to fall onto your knees.
Michael pulled at your hair, forcing you to look up at him. The glare in your eyes was worth it. Pleasure began to pool in his groin, feeling his cock throb as it grew harder. With his other hand, he snatched up the loofah from your grip. You two stared at each other, not once ever breaking eye contact. Even as Michael made his first move.
You shuddered as his cock brushed your lips. The tip glides easily across your skin from the help of the water and his precum. You dug your nails into your knees as Michael continued to stimulate his tip against your lips. A sudden harsh tug of locks had your mouth flying open with a groan escaping. Michael took that as an invitation and slipped his cock into your mouth.
Michael moaned out as he felt your mouth and tongue welcome him. He couldn't help the small smirk that grew on his face when he looked down at you. Watching as your mouth adjusted to his girth, and how your hands flew towards his hips to stop him from going any further. He kept that one hand in your hair while he washed his body with the other. All while you had his cock in your mouth. He could feel you swallow around him, struggling with the pool of saliva that built in your mouth. Michael gave a very slow thrust, testing out the waters as he continued to bathe himself.
The grip in his hair had you on the verge of tears as it strained your scalp. The burning sensation mixed in horribly with the pain of the water falling into your open eyes. ‘You fucking bastard’, you glared up at him. Watching him with a peeved expression as he simply continued scrubbing himself. You gagged as Michael’s cock slipped further into your mouth, but he kept himself there. You gagged once more as you pushed and punched at his thighs to get him to pull back. The water that you inhaled burned your nostrils as you fought against him.
Michael bucked his hips as he felt the back of your throat close around him with every gag. But that was quickly cut short when he groaned out in pain when he felt your fingertips dig into the inflamed gash on his abdomen. He slipped his cock out from your mouth and looked at you with a slight snarl. Michael watched as thick saliva dribbled from your shit-eating grin with a dark piercing gaze.
“Are you angry, Mikey?” you asked. Knowing damn well he was. And you knew damn well what was next. The loofah that he held onto hit the floor as he now held both sides of your face. Squeezing slightly inwards at your temples. He pushed your back against the cold shower wall. His fingers digging into your scalp until you groaned out in pain - teeth baring. You felt one hand slide down towards your mouth. Slippery fingers pushed at your teeth, demanding entrance. You looked up at him and shook your head.
Michael took that as a challenge. So he decided to come back with one as well. ‘Hopefully you can hold your breath well’, he pinched your nostrils shut using his thumb and index finger. While using the rest of his hand to cover your mouth. He watched as your chest bounced from the sudden cut-off of oxygen. Michael’s eyes were fixed on your face, watching as you stubbornly turned red.
Your lungs began to burn as your chest begged you to just submit. You clawed at his hand that suffocated you. Your diaphragm spasmed as it became desperate for a smidgen of air, but none was coming. Michael was very much so dead set on waiting for you to give in.
As stubborn as you'd want to be, sadly you are not immortal. Which meant you couldn’t hold your breath any longer! You stared up at Michael with large eyes and frantically nodded your head as your vision began to tunnel. In an instant his large hand was gone. Your mouth flew open as you gasped desperately for air; eyes rolling back from the rush you just experienced. Before you could even get another large breath of air Michael pushed himself back into your mouth.
Michael cupped the back of your head, protecting it from smacking directly against the acrylic wall as he fucked your mouth. With his other hand he reached down to yours that rested against his thigh, holding it tightly in his grasp. He lost himself to the sensation with every deep thrust. From every gag that hugged him perfectly, to the swipe of your tongue underneath his cock, and simply the way you stared up at him - had him reaching his orgasm quicker than he expected.
You looked up at Michael with hooded eyes, watching as his wet curls bounced and stuck around the frame of his face. Fixating on his face; nose scrunched, mouth hung slightly open as he panted with every thrust. You knew Michael was close by the way his cock throbbed in your mouth. Thick saliva mixed with pre-cum trailed down your throat. Nostrils flared as you tried your hardest to get whatever crumb of oxygen you can get.
A soft, raspy voice was barely heard over the shower running and your gagging.
“. . .shit. . .”, Michael rolled his head back as his hips stuttered. His pace quickened as his sloppy thrusts sent his cock further back making you gag back to back. On his last thrust he made sure to have himself fully sheathed in your mouth; nose pressed up against his dark pubes. He moaned out as he spilled his seed down your throat. Watching as your throat bobbed, taking everything he gave you.
Your eyes closed as you felt Michael tremble. After a moment or so, Michael slipped his chubbed cock from your mouth, watching a string of saliva follow from your lips. Without another word Michael simply let go of your hair and hand, stepping out of the shower. Leaving you on the shower floor. He grabbed his towel and dried himself off before leaving it on the counter. Michael looked back at you once more before leaving the bathroom. Leaving you alone.
You slowly rose to your feet, taking in his cool and collected composure. ‘ Why did you just leave like that? The hell?’, you sighed. You dried yourself off, finishing off with wrapping the towel around your waist before you slowly opened up the door that led to the bedroom. The cool air kissed your body, painting your skin with goosebumps as you stepped further into the room.
You scanned the room and immediately your heart dropped, “Michael?”
D-Did he just dip out again?! You ran over to the bedroom window and peered out at the driveway. The car is still parked. You clenched at your chest, feeling your heart pound aggressively. You whipped your head around as you heard the door creak open, revealing Michael carrying the suitcase you had packed earlier.
Michael’s brows furrowed as you briskly walked over to him. ‘What’s wrong?’, he thought. He placed the suitcase down near the dresser before pulling you into his embrace.
“I thought you left again. . .”, you admitted out loud. You felt incredibly foolish. Moments ago you were dead set on leaving him, not sparing him another chance. Now here you are, clenching onto this man like your life depended on it. Taking in the warmth of his skin against your cool skin. After a moment or two, Michael began to push forward, walking you backwards until you fell back on the bed. The cool sheets made you shiver as you settled on top of the comforter.
Michael climbed on top, straddling and locking you legs in between his muscular thighs as he looked down at you. He leaned down and placed his lips on your own.
You couldn't help but moan into the kiss - taking in everything you could. God, you felt so desperate for his touch. Michael leaned out from the kiss, admiring just how needy he can easily make you. Even with that hard front you'd always try to wear. He grabbed your chin and turned it to the side. Your breath shook with excitement as Michael leaned down once again. Kissing and biting at your neck. You grasped onto his arms as you rubbed and pushed your thighs together. Greedily seeking any friction or sensation that would make your sex throb even more.
Michael moaned into your neck as you rubbed him through his boxers. He rolled his hips into your touch, biting roughly at your neck as you continued. Michael growled as he rutted even harder against your hand. In an instant however, he sat up and looked down at you - grunting as he ripped the towel from your waist. The whimper that escaped your lips made him even more excited - more feral. He hastily spread your legs open before positioning himself in between your thighs. He rubbed his clothed cock against your exposed sex, noting just how clearly aroused you were.
You closed your eyes as Michael continued thrusting down against you. Moaning as his cock brushed up against you so well. But you craved more from him. With feverish hands, you reached down and pulled his boxers down as far as you could from your position.
Michael slowly stood up and completely removed the rest of his boxers, throwing them on the carpet. A small moan escaped his lips as he stroked his cock, watching as you touched yourself. He climbed back onto the bed, dropping down to his stomach. Watching you closely with predatory like eyes as you pleasured yourself in front of him.
You bit down on your bottom lip to silence your noises. More because you knew it'd hurt your raw throat, but also because Michael doesn't like it when you try to stifle your noises. And he'll do anything to hear your voice. You yelped when a pair of strong hands hooked under your thighs, dragging you down towards his face. A throaty moan erupted from you as Michael's mouth took all of you. Tongue dancing along your most sensitive regions, making your back arch off the bed as he continued.
"Pl-please, Michael", you rolled your hips. Meeting his mouth that held a steady rhythm against you. Your mouth fell open, letting out a silent gasp as you felt two large fingers work their way into you. With Michael sucking and licking at your sex, and his fingers hitting just all the right spots - there was no way you'd last. It has been so long since you two have done anything in bed, you knew you'd probably not last long at all.
Michael finger-fucked you, drawing out all the noises you had kept at bay. Not caring if it caused your throat pain. 'That is all your fault - deal with it' . He knew you were close by the way your legs trembled, the way you began to slowly thrash around, and the way your walls tightened around his fingers. 'Don't worry, I won't let you cum yet'.
You gripped the comforter as you felt that heat rush towards your groin. "Fuck!", you wheezed out as you bucked your hips chasing that sweet release that was just around the corner. But suddenly Michael retracted completely, leaving you panting and whimpering as he denied you what you wanted. But that's the Michael you know very well .
Michael climbed up towards your face. His chin was wet with saliva and traces of you. Scarred fingers intertwined with yours as you were still recovering from your denied orgasm. He rested his forehead against yours, breath warm against your lips.
You squeezed your fingers around his, "How will I know you won't leave me?"
Now you're asking the real questions.
Your heart skipped a beat as a small grin grew across Michael's face. You wouldn’t admit it but that small grin made your heart race. His lips kissed at your pectoral region, before he brought a hand up and suddenly dug his blunt fingernail across your skin. You groaned out in pain as Michael continued. You even tried to push his hand away but he easily continued digging and marking your skin. The sharp pain nearly had you in tears, but you weren't at all prepared for the next part.
After completing his sketch, he looked back over to the closet door that still had his knife lodged in the wood. 'That'll be better for all of this' , he thought. Michael quickly got up and briskly walked towards the door, pulling the knife out in one go. He saw your frantic eyes staring widely at him. Were you going to run? Were you going to stay? Or were you too lost in fear your body decided to freeze?
Your breath hitched as Michael walked slowly back to the bed with his knife in hand. "Mi-Michael, listen I - I don't know what your plan is but -" You couldn't even finish your sentence as you felt his blade gently rest against your lips.
'Shush'
You nodded your head, completely scared at what he planned out so quickly in his mind. You felt the cold steel retreat and fall gently onto the bed. Michael pushed you further up the bed till your head rested against one of the pillows. You broke out in a cold sweat as your breath trembled with the fear of unspoken certainty of the whole situation.
Michael wiped the blade against the comforter before raising it once more. This time bringing the tip of the blade against the symbol he sketched into your pec with his nail. Your hands flew straight towards him, stopping and trying to push him away. You fought against him as best as you could, trying to get that damn knife far away as possible, but to no avail. Michael maneuvered your arms behind your back before straddling your hips to keep them locked.
You thrashed around, begging Michael to stop but Michael slowly shook his head. You had asked him how , and now he's going to show you. A sharp sting erupted from your skin as Michael sunk the tip of the blade into your skin. Tears fell quickly as he continued to work the blade in a surgeon-like manner; with utmost attention. You clenched your teeth together, fighting the urge to cry out in pain. You can feel the warmth of your blood seep from your wound as it travels across your skin.
Michael skillfully dragged the blade across your skin, watching as his fingers and knife were being painted by your blood. It was exhilarating! With every stroke of his knife, his cock throbbed. Michael gave one last downward drag of his knife against your skin. Done. He wiped the blood that accumulated around the fresh wound to get a better look at his art. 'Perfect' . Michael sat back on his heels, allowing you to wiggle your numb arms out from underneath you with a cry.
You trembled as you slowly pushed yourself to sit up. Your jaw was tight, nostrils flaring as you locked eyes with Michael who sat there watching you. Your numb fingers touched your fresh wound, hissing as even the slightest pressure caused a fiery sting to sear through your body. "W-w-why?!", you looked up at him. Michael didn't answer. You clicked your tongue as you peered down at your pec, feeling the blood dribble down your chest - down towards your abdomen.
Michael's hand reached out, tracing the lines of blood down your body. Watching as you flinched at his initial touch, but you couldn't pull away. You still wanted him, wanted his touch, his twisted love . Even if it brought you pain. He grabbed your fingers, pulling it up to the wound. Tracing the fine lines he created despite your pleas to stop.
"Michael, Michael please it hurts - it. . .", you stopped your pleading as Michael traced it over once more. Realization striking you finally.
M
Michael held his knife's handle out towards you. Had he wanted you to reciprocate the same action? You shook your head, "No no, Michael no it's - it's okay. You don't have to please . I - I don't want to hurt you."
Michael gave you no choice. He forcefully pushed the knife into your hand till you grasped it tightly with a tremor. This knife. This very knife that you held was the weapon that has kissed the skin of others. The last thing they felt as they met their demise was bestowed upon you by the person who wielded it. He raised your arm slowly till it was in the same region as yours was. You looked up at Michael, noting the eerily calm nature of his body.
"Are you sure, Michael?" You asked hoping he'd rethink his decision. Michael took your hand that grasped the knife and slowly brought the sharp point to his skin, sinking it ever so slowly. Your eyes shut as you felt the very miniscule feeling of his skin giving way to the blade.
"I can't - I can't do it -", you croaked out. That's okay, Michael will do it for you. With his hand still gripping yours he carved out your initial into his pec. Not ever once wincing, or letting out even a small sound of pain as he dragged the blade against his own skin. After a few more seconds you felt the knife being pulled gently from your hand, thrown somewhere on the carpet.
With your eyes still closed, you didn't see Michael leaning into you, bringing you into a deep kiss that pushed you back into the mattress. The wound stung, but you knew it would only be temporary. Hopefully.
Michael rolled his hips upward, rewarding you both with that sweet collision between your bodies. Moans escaped both of your mouths as Michael rubbed the tip of his cock against your entrance repeatedly. You spread your legs further apart, hoping that Michael would just fill you.
He felt your hand slither down towards his cock. Fingers wrapping around him perfectly as you stroked him, pulling a moan from him as he kissed you. His precum spread across his length as you pumped him. He felt you position his cock against your entrance and that was his final straw of self-control. He snapped his hips into you. Sinking deep within you at once.
"O-oh fuck", you gasped as you wrapped your arms quickly around Michael. Slightly wincing at the pain of being filled so quickly. But God, did it feel so good to be filled - so perfectly by Michael once again. It had been too long.
Michael stayed put, feeling as your walls pulsed around him as it adjusted to his girth. He heard you panting and moaning against his ear as you tightly held on to him. His hands grabbed at your thighs, pushing them inwards towards yourself till your calves rested on his shoulders. The Mating Press . One of Michael's favorite positions. He loved bending your body in ways that he knew would be challenging. Watching you obediently stay put even if it strained your muscles. This way he can also be face-to-face with you. Looking at every muscle in your face, wondering what facial expression you'll wear next. Michael grabbed your arms. Slowly pinning them above your head until they rested against the wall.
"Fuck me. . .", you begged quietly as if someone would overhear. "I've missed you." Michael gently placed a kiss on your forehead before he nodded. You intertwined your fingers with his once again as Michael slowly began to move his hips.
After a couple of slow, deep thrusts Michael's movements quickened. You took him so well even when he began to thrust harder into you. Leaving you a blubbering mess as he hit your most sensitive spot that left you moaning out his name and asking for more.
"Ha-harder!" You cried out in pleasure. And Michael did as you requested. Michael fucked you deep and hard. The sound of moaning and panting erupting from the both of you. He brought you into a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you did the same. Michael bit at your lower lip, drawing blood with a growl as he rocked the bed with every thrust.
Michael was just as flushed as you were, breathing heavily from his mouth. He wore a coy expression as your legs trembled, growing stiff and slowly cramping as they stayed perched on his shoulders. He listened as you begged for him to change positions. Michael released your hands and sat up, allowing your legs to fall on either side of him.
You groaned out as you felt your muscles tighten. Please don't cramp, please! Michael paused, as though he was thinking of something deeply. Before you had the chance to ask, you found yourself flipped onto your stomach. Ass being raised towards the ceiling as he slipped easily back into you. You cursed out loud, immediately being drowned in pleasure as his cock pushed sweetly up against your sensitive nerves. He held tightly onto your hips as he began to fuck you hard from the behind. Every snap of his hips made you lose it, but it wasn't till a heavy slap across your ass made you really lose it.
Michael's other favorite position: doggy-style. This position never fails to bring out the primal side in him. He loves to litter your back and neck with bruises and bites, claiming you as his. And you were his . The idea of seeing you with anyone else makes his blood boil. Michael is an extremely possessive individual, but most importantly, loyal . Even as twisted as he is, and your initial that's carved into his pec shows just that.
You broke out into a small sob as Michael delivered another hard slap against your ass, "Fuck, please - Oh God! " You drooled onto the comforter below as your mouth hung open. Fingers grasping onto the soft fabric as Michael repeatedly penetrated your sweet spot, sending waves of nonstop pleasure through your body.
Michael hunched over your body, kissing up your shoulder until his cheek rested against your own. He groaned out as you tightened around him. Your walls hugged and clenched around his cock so hard he had to slow down.
As your body grew limp, you began to slide down onto the mattress, but Michael quickly lifted you up. Pinning you against his chest with a strong hold around your throat all while never stopping. He squeezed gently as he played around with his grip, making you gasp and wheeze. You touched yourself, eyes rolling back as Michael fucked and choked you roughly. However, he quickly replaced your hand with his own. Michael rubbed and stroked you at the same speed of his deep thrusts.
You felt an exhilarating rush go through your head as Michael eased up around your throat. You moaned out his name, praising him and telling him how good he makes you feel. How you never want anyone else, but him.
Michael turned your head to face him as much as possible without snapping your neck. He peered down at you with a primal glare and leaned into your ear. "Good", he growled deeply before biting down at your neck.
That all immediately sent you over. "Fu-ck! Oh God - mmmm ", you cried out. Hearing him utter those words to you, knowing he himself would never want to be with anyone else - hit you hard. You cummed all over his hand, causing your fluid to spill onto the comforter as well.
Michael didn't stop though. He continued rubbing and stroking you well past your orgasm, making you beg and plead for him to stop. But it only drove him to fuck you relentlessly, till nothing coherent came from your mouth. He wanted you ruined for the night, completely exhausted to the point you couldn't walk.
Your head lolled back, laying against your initial on Michael's pec. You felt yourself slipping - on the verge of passing out as the overstimulation becomes more painful than pleasurable. "I - I. . . Lo-ve. . .you, Michael'', you managed to weakly say before you felt your eyes close. Succumbing to your exhaustion.
Michael replayed those words, over and over again till he came deep within you with a loud groan. He held you tightly, making sure you wouldn't fall straight down onto the mattress. He kept his cock buried deep in you even as he maneuvered the two of you. Michael spooned you, locking you in place with an arm across your chest and the other resting between your thighs. Feeling his cum spill from your hole even with him still deep in you.
Tonight, you were going to be his cockwarmer. Whether you realize it now or hours from now when you wake up again. He will not pull out until he fills you up as many times as he desires. Making damn sure you'll always know you are his, as he is yours.
Michael sighed as he began to feel the heavy weight of sleep upon him. With him finally alone with his thoughts and with you by his side, he was finally able to think. To reflect on his actions and what happened tonight. There was a lot to unravel, and a lot to learn. It'll definitely be difficult to understand, especially for someone like himself who never once experienced anything like that of the sort. But Michael knew he'd have to put in his best effort no matter what. Because whether he'd admit it or not, he loves you, and he wants you to know that. Which at times seems very difficult or hard to understand based on his actions or demeanor. However, just remember he's trying his best. And sometimes the smallest steps are the ones that speak the loudest.
Michael gently kissed your temple, "I'm sorry."
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