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What You Want, And What You Need	By : HardcoreHorrorChick Category: G through L > Halloween (All) > Halloween (All) Views: 27106 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Halloween movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
STOP! This story has a prequel! Read reineSeele's fic 'A Violent Necessity' first!
This fic was actually inspired by a dream I had which was, in turn, inspired by a Myers smut fic that I read just before bed on the AFF (adult fan fiction) site called 'Trick Or Treat' by the author DuosSpinae. Unfortunately, I woke up before I could get any nookie, and spent the rest of the week quite miffed.
So, I decided to do a fic that included the smut I was deprived of. I love my Mikey, and tried hard to keep him in character. I don't own him, cause' if I did, I would do some very naughty things to him...
I had actually considered a few different titles for this fic, some of which include 'Killer Sex' and 'How To Get Over Your Ex Boyfriend' This title fits nicely, too.
Enjoy, Julie!
Chapter 1: What You Want, And What You Need
October 29th, 2000.
It was two days before Halloween, and for the last month leading up to this day, the residents of the small suburban town of Haddonfield, Illinois had kept fearful, watchful eyes on the abandoned, derelict ranch house at forty-five Lampkin Lane. As everyone in the town knew, thirty-nine years ago, six-year old Michael Audrey Myers had stabbed his older sister Judith to death. Six times after that horrific night, Michael had returned to Haddonfield, returned home, and left death in his wake as he hunted down the surviving members of his family.
The last time Michael had come back home had been two years ago, and his younger sister Laurie was now locked up in the Grace Andersen Sanitarium for killing the paramedic Michael had switched clothing with before making his escape. The only other family member left besides Laurie was her son John, and no one in the town had the faintest clue as to where he had gone; it was as if he had simply dropped off the face of the planet, taking his girlfriend Molly with him.
The infamous Myers house, the scene of some of the most brutal murders committed in the history of the U.S was now under constant surveillance by the Haddonfield P.D via a series of hidden remote sensors scattered throughout the dilapidated residence. No one was taking any chances. Even the local teenagers had finally given up on using the house as a prank test for the newest generation of Haddonfield residences, as the mandatory thirty days in jail for trespassing onto the property proved most effective. That and the digital recordings from the infrared cameras showing the offender�s faces held up in the courts better than circumstantial evidence ever could.
On this particular night, an unseasonably severe thunderstorm had descended upon the town, creating a surreal atmosphere and only intensifying the residences� anxiety. Everyone knew better than to expect the holiday to pass by silently, peacefully, and until the first of November came and went, no one allowed themselves the luxury of believing otherwise.
However, while some of the residents of Haddonfield were now holed up in their homes, trying in vain to act normal and give the impression that nothing was bothering them for the benefit of their children and others were just trying to forget the horrors of the past, one resident was not.
With her foot angrily tapping along to the beat of Sevendust's 'Live Again� which blared out of the small portable stereo on the top of her dresser, Kat Jenkins finally reached the bottom of the pile of photographs that, not long ago, had covered her large solid oak desk. Scattered around her in a halo of shredded, crumpled and torn paper, the last evidence of the relationship between her and her last boyfriend Jason was now, literally, in pieces on the carpet.
Sheets of rain lashed against her window and the odd gust of wind caused the glass to rattle in its frame as she glared down at a photograph that had been taken last month which showed them both smiling like nothing could ever go wrong, their arms around each other in a warm embrace.
�That asshole...he could have at least had the balls to tell me in person that he was breaking up with me!� she grated as she ripped the last photograph of him and her apart, her hands literally shaking in her anger.
As she let the last of the pieces fall to the floor to join with all the others, a crack of thunder caused her to jump like a frightened child and she swore colorfully under her breath, a habit she had, unfortunately, taken up within the last few hours.
"Just my luck...I get dumped, no one�s around for me to vent at, and, just to add insult to injury, the worst storm of the year just HAD to be on THIS night!"
She and Jason had been going out for nearly four months, and she had foolishly thought that he had been �the one�. However, earlier this evening, she had received a call on her cell phone and had answered it only to gape at a video message of a naked Jason and an equally naked mystery girl, clearly caught in the act of coitus by whoever had taken the video and sent it to her. She had sorely wanted to blast him over his cell phone, but, in a startling show of insight, Jason had already set her number to call blocking when she had tried phoning him. The second call she had placed had been to her best friend Jenna, hoping that she could offer a shoulder, or at least an ear to cry on. With a weary sigh, she had turned her cell off after her call had been instantly redirected to Jenna�s voice mail.
Here I am...twenty-three, curves in all the right places, outgoing personality, and I�ve just been dumped for some skunk-haired, anorexic slut! When I get my hands on that scrawny, flat chested...AAARGH!
With a sudden violent sweep of her arm, she sent the last tattered pieces flying from the desktop as she rose from her chair, stormed barefoot to her second-storey window and flung aside the sheer curtains, her pale, tear-streaked face reflected in the windowpane. And froze.
Standing under the branches of the massive tree on her front lawn, his rain-soaked form briefly illuminated in a flash of lightning that reflected off the white mask that concealed his face stood a figure no one in Haddonfield would fail to recognize.
He can�t be back...this has just got to be my stressed-out imagination playing tricks on me...why the HELL would be at MY house? she thought numbly, her body going rigid as she stared wide-eyed out the window, her vision blurred by the rain splattering against the pane.
Michael Myers. The Boogeyman. All the kids knew about him, and most of the teenagers at some point in their lives donned a replica of the infamous mask to frighten anyone they could for a month leading up to and on Halloween. That white mask, she would recognize anywhere. Forcing back a wave of panic, she closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to calm her racing mind. Another ominous rumble of thunder rattled her window before she hesitantly opened her eyes, releasing a pent-up sigh of relief over the vacant, sodden front yard spread out before her view.
Just as I thought, just my imagination...or at least some shit-headed, crack-blitzed teenager out for some fun...she thought with relief as she released the window latch, opening the window a crack to allow a bit of rain-scented, cool night air into her stuffy room as she turned off the radio.
�What I need is a shower...a hot shower at night always relaxes me, and all the better after the day I�VE had...� she mumbled, stripping out of her crimson tank top and black denim jeans, stopping to give herself a quick glance in the full-length mirror hung from the back of her door.
Her usually vibrant green eyes were red and puffy from all the tears she�d wasted, and her long blonde hair was a complete mess from all the wringing she had inflicted upon it in the height of her fury. Shaking her head, she stripped out of her black lace bra and panties, padding naked to her private bathroom whose doorway faced the large, slightly ajar window. Turning off her bedroom light switch, she cast her room in dancing shadows as lightning continued to flicker across the night sky.
Oh well...if anyone actually manages to climb the trellis and tries to break in, I�ll just stab them in the eye with the curling iron...she thought bitterly as she flicked on the bathroom lights before turning to close and lock the door behind her.
Unfortunately, if she had only taken one last look behind her, she might have noticed a pair of large, strong hands tightly gripping the windowsill. For anyone who happened to be braving the streets of Haddonfield at this time of night in the middle of the storm, they might have spied a man, dressed in a soaked mechanic�s uniform and wearing a white mask, hanging from the second storey window ledge of the only house on the street with all its lights off.
For a few moments he just hung there, the bulk of his body weight relying on his upper body strength. Then, with an incredible show of muscle control, he hung there by one hand as he brought his other reaching up and forward to push the window wide open, the toes of his work boots clinging to the narrow lattice that supported wilted, dying vines.
Another crack of lightning lit up the sky as Michael Myers hauled himself up and through the window, his muddy footprints staining the ivory plush carpet as he calmly walked up to the locked bathroom door. Drawing a gleaming butcher knife from the pocket of the suit, he gripped its hilt with knuckles white with tension as he leaned against the wall behind the door. And waited.
She twisted the faucet on full, jerking out of the way to avoid the frigid spray before it turned to water so hot it nearly scalded her when she stepped into it. She took her time, pampering herself and washing away all the stresses of the day as until the water became tepid, a sure sign that she had reached to the bottom of the hot water tank. Stepping out of the shower, her hand squeaked loudly when she used it to wipe away the sheen of condensation that had fogged up the large mirror, taking a moment to scrutinize her reflection.
�Hmmm...flawless peaches and cream complexion...body of a dancer...nice rack...� she whispered, cupping her C-cup breasts for emphasis. �What�s wrong with me that I can�t keep a man for longer that a couple of months? I do everything THEY want to do, I�m there when they call me, everything goes wonderful for the first few weeks...and then...�
Grabbing a random hairbrush from the top drawer, she raked it through her dripping hair as all the stress that she had taken a shower to get rid of boiled back up to the surface of her mind. Hot tears flowed anew down her cheeks as she ripped a large white towel from the rack on the wall, wrapped its soft length around her wet body and unlocked the door, stepping into her darkened bedroom.
At the beginning of their relationship, Jason had proved to be the very model of what a gentleman should be. He bought her flowers, held the door whenever they went anywhere and had no problems (as some of her past boyfriends had) with shows of public affection. It was only after they had been going out for a month that he had asked her for sex. Not just any sex, but something you only found lurking in the darkest corners of the internet or in the magazines on the top shelves of porn stores.
She had never imagined that he was so...perverted, while appearing so completely normal on the outside. She had refused him outright and their relationship had gone downhill from there. The nice boy she had known had finally shown his true colors, and now found excuse after excuse for not wanting to spend time with her. In the back of her mind, she knew that he was cheating on her, getting whatever he needed elsewhere while she sat at home miserable, blaming herself over her inability to allow him to live out his fantasies.
Earlier today, she had actually considered working up the nerve to tell him that they could try something, start slow. That was before she had received the anonymous video message and after she had purged all love of him from her heart, leaving her feeling hollow and empty inside.
�Haagen-Dazs...that�s what I need. A whole frikkin� tub of Haagen-Dazs...� she muttered darkly, taking a step towards her door, fully intent on devouring all three pints of the pricey ice cream she had hidden within the bowels of the freezer in the basement.
That is until a large, rough hand clamped around her mouth and a strong arm wrapped around her midsection, wrenching her off her feet and pulling her backwards in an impossibly strong grip. In a fear-fueled panic, she began to try to fight against her attacker, digging bloody furrows on the hand on her mouth with her short nails in a vain attempt to force him to release her, desperately twisting wildly to try to throw him off balance all the while trying to scream for help.
Unfortunately, her violent struggles seemed to have no affect whatsoever, as the man (who just happened to tower over her slight five-foot-three frame and seemed to be made of a wall of bricks) simply held her against his unmoving body, seemingly unaffected by everything she could come up with to escape.
Every attempt she made to fight back was useless, as every time she tried to kick back and hurt him enough to get free he would simply wrench her in the opposite direction, even going so far as to hold her up when she tried to kick back with both at the same time. Nothing worked, and within minutes she was exhausted, her muffled cries now nothing more than ragged coughs.
FUCK ME SHIT WHO THE FUCK IS THIS ASSHOLE AND HOW THE FUCKING HELL DID HE GET IN MY ROOM! she screamed frantically in her head, putting all of her strength into an effort to twist away from her assailant�s grasp, in the process catching a sidelong glimpse of herself in the mirror on the back of her door.
Oh shit...oh shit...it�s him...he�s gonna kill me like all the others...I�m dead...she whimpered in her mind, gaping with tear filled eyes at the sight of the terrifyingly familiar masked man who held her tight against him.
Although the room was without artificial illumination, there was just enough moonlight filtering through the storm clouds for her to recognize the blade of a butcher knife that was clutched in his right hand and held against her stomach over the bath towel as it glinted briefly in the flash from a bolt of lightning.
She suddenly stilled, struggling to breathe in through her nose as she realized that if she continued to fight him, he could simply tire of her struggles, cut her open and she would die at his hands just like all the others had. It was over. He had beaten her, and she knew it. For nearly two minutes, she stood there on shaking legs, his hand still clamped on her mouth and the knife still at her belly before she realized that he was making no move whatsoever to kill her.
Why...what is he waiting for? Is this some kind of sick game to him? Why hasn�t he killed me yet? Why? What�s going on?
Her mind worked frantically as she listed through all the possibilities, but, try as she might, none that she thought of made any sense. That is until she suddenly felt a rather hard object press against the small of her back, feeling it right through the towel which was held up by his arm alone as her nails were still sunk into the flesh of his hand.
Oh dear God. He can�t possibly...but he can�t...but...how...? Oh good Lord...she thought in a horrifying burst of insight. He�s...turned on by...THIS!? He kills people, he doesn�t break into their bedrooms in the middle of the night and rape them...but...OH SHIT!
All her mental protests and moral outcries were momentarily put on hold as he suddenly shifted his grip, one long, powerful leg darting forward to hook around one of hers and prevent her from kicking out again as his hand that held the butcher knife slowly edged upward. Which, in accordance with a horrid little thing dubbed �Murphy�s Law�, caused the towel to slide down her body and puddle at her feet. She felt her face instantly heat as shock and embarrassment momentarily replaced a good portion of her fear.
Please...this can�t be happening...why...? She was about to give one last valiant attempt to save herself when he chose that particular moment to buck his hips against her.
Despite all the fear coursing through her, she arched against his powerful body, her nails only digging deeper as his quite noticeable erection prodded her from behind. She identified the combined scents of latex and rainwater as her head thumped backwards, fitting just under his chin as she cursed herself over her body�s betrayal.
I�m naked, defenseless, in the arms of a killer, and I�m getting turned on!? She thought frantically, her mind a jumble of utter confusion as she tried unsuccessfully to dismiss the jolt of pleasure she had felt at his sudden, unexpected movement, trying to blame it on anything from hormones to the stress of her upcoming university exams.
What�s...wrong with me...I�ve never imagined...I never thought...oh God...how could I want this? What the fuck is wrong with me? Jason...I refused Jason this...and here HE is, and...I...I...want... she thought miserably, just now getting a whiff of the metallic tang of blood from where she had lacerated the backs of his hands.
Whimpering low in her throat, her treacherous body trembled as he tilted his head down to briefly rub his cool, rain slicked mask against her cheek, her body shaking over the inexplicably tender gesture, something she never would have expected from her soon-to-be rapist.
The butcher knife, which had so recently been pressed against her towel-covered midsection was now carefully pressed flat against the side of her neck as he slowly removed his hand from her mouth, obviously secure in the fact that if she chose to scream, he could simply slit her throat.
Sucking in desperate lungfulls of air as she fought against the instinct to struggle, she kept her nails set into the flesh of his hands as she followed his movements, trying to ignore a small trickle of his blood that slid down her wrist and dripped silently to the carpet. If he was in any pain he certainly did not show it, not even reacting when she dug them a little deeper as his fingers of his left hand grazed along her side.
However, any form of resistance she might have thought to use was utterly stripped away as Michael took the opportunity to gently cup her left breast with his now free hand.
Her body went completely rigid at the sudden contact, her gasp of shock bursting from her lungs as a battle now began to wage in her mind, the logical, sane part of her consciousness warring against the primal, repressed part of her psyche that was secretly thrilled at this developing situation.
He�s going to rape you, and then kill you. You�re just going to be dead meat for your parents to discover when they come back to visit in a month from their Vacation in Tahiti. He only wants your body, and when he�s done with it, you�ll die. But...if he was going to rape me, he wouldn�t be touching me this way. I would be on the floor with him driving into me until I lost consciousness from the shock and pain. That�s what�s coming, and he�s gonna kill you no matter what you do or say. But this feels...nice...he can�t want what you think he wants, he�s not hurting me...and...and...God help me, I want this...
The voice of reason suddenly all but vanished as he began to slowly circle her nipple with the rough pad of his thumb, her hands releasing their bloody grip to cover his and shadow his movement. She felt him stiffen and hesitate at her touch, but only for a moment before the knife was suddenly dropped to the carpet, the razor-sharp blade just missing her bare foot. Without the slightest sign of hesitation and much to her shock, he grabbed the opportunity to trail the large warm hand down her right side, a long, drawn-out throaty sigh escaping as he smoothed along the curve of her hip.
Oh yes...please...don�t stop...please...she thought helplessly, leaning against him and turning her head so that her face was pressed against his chest, finally giving in to her body�s needs. I don�t care what happens...this feels...so good...if he�s going to kill me anyway, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts...she decided as another jolt of pleasure surged through her, her breath catching in her throat as the potential danger of her situation tickled her senses in a way she never could have imagined.
For the second time this night, he stiffened, and she had to wonder over the reason. He knows how to touch a woman, that�s for sure...he�s had to have done this at least one other time...maybe...he�s just not used to being touched in return...or...having his playthings react this way...she wondered, just as she got an insane, dangerous idea.
With his left hand still occupied with her breast and his right with her hip, she slowly and very carefully reached her own right hand back and between their bodies, gently grazing the back of her hand along the ridge of his erection that strained against the crotch on the rain-soaked, navy mechanic�s overalls he wore.
At least...I can try to give him a sign that I won�t try to fight him again...maybe...he won�t kill me afterwards if I show him I�m interested...she reasoned nervously, trying valiantly to muffle the little voice in the back of her mind that was screaming at her that she should be trying to fight him off no matter what instead of giving in and hoping for the best.
She definitely heard a sharp, harsh intake of breath from the confines of his mask as she turned her hand around to cup him, and, for a moment, she thought that she had gone too far. The tension in his body was apparent as he flexed his hands, his grip on her breast became briefly uncomfortable and his fingers digging into her hip before he slowly relaxed, his breathing becoming heavier in contrast with her short, quick shallow breaths.
Unfortunately, as she soon found out, there were certain things he would and would not allow her do to him. With her right hand preoccupied, she slowly raised her left up and back, the tips of her fingers connecting with the coarse, rough fake hair at the back of his mask as she searched for a way to remove it. Big mistake.
With an infuriated growl he shoved her away from, sending her tripping over the fallen towel to hit the floor hard and sprawl on the carpet before him. Scrambling frantically to her feet, her wide, fearful eyes watched him reach down with frightening speed to reclaim his knife, raising it to chest level as his body practically shook with rage.
COME ON! THINK! she screamed in her head, her eyes wide as saucers as she watched him stalk towards her, backing up as far as she could before the backs of her legs ran up against the edge of her solid oak desk, the tattered and torn photographs crumpling under her bare feet. This is it...he�s gonna kill me for sure, now...there has to be something...I can do...has to be something I can...offer...
She was desperate. There was only one thing that her shocked and strained mind could think of that could possibly save her, but it was the equivalent of throwing herself in the proverbial lion�s den.
But what choice do I have? she thought dazedly, quickly turning around and draping herself facedown on the desktop, her breasts pressed against the cool, smooth wood while her toes curled into the plush carpet. He...might not kill me if he�s in control...God help me...I still want this...want him...she whispered in her mind as she willed her body to relax, submitting to whatever was about to happen.
Nearly a minute had gone by before she turned her head painstakingly slow, risking a glance behind her, and froze. He was just standing there, staring at her. He still held the knife in front of him but a definite tremble had apparently replaced his previously calm, the blade of the knife shaking as he fought against whatever emotion had him in its grip.
�You win, Michael. Please...take what you want...take...� she whispered, her small, frightened voice sounding loud in the silence of the room before a crack of thunder shook the glass in the frame, just as he lowered the knife.
She watched as the knife was slowly, reluctantly lowered, Michael holding it against his side as his other hand reached up, gripping the heavy brass zipper the collar of the suit. The harsh grating of metal on metal reached her ears over the incessant patter of raindrops hitting the sill of her open window and she shivered as a cool breeze caressed her body, half from the chill and half from what she knew was going to happen to her.
The storm had finally let up and now silvery moonlight filled the room, just enough for her to make out his large silhouette as he took slow steps towards her, his free hand parting the damp suit all the way down to reveal horrifically scarred and burn-marked skin, lean muscles, and something...unexpected.
Oh...my...God...he�s...BIG...oh man, how the hell has he been hiding...THIS? she wondered numbly, her eyes widening even further and her mouth drying at she gaped at the sight of the long, hard length he freed from his suit, the mechanic�s overalls apparently being the only thing he was wearing.
Try as she might, she could not rip her eyes from the sight of his cock that rose gracefully to nearly brush against the scar-riddled skin of his navel, her body tightening in anticipation so hard and fast it hurt, her pulse pounding in her ears. He wasn�t so much long as wide, but he most definitely had Jason beat at sheer size.
Her hands tightened on the far edge of the desk so hard that her knuckles turned white, her stomach in knots and a fine sheen of perspiration forming on her skin as she imagined of it pressing into her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she listened to his quiet, steady footsteps approach her and she nearly jumped out of her skin when his foot contacted hers, nudging her legs apart as she whimpered in a complex blend of fear, anticipation and raw need.
I don�t care...what happens...what I�m doing...need this...I have to have this, or I�m going to go mad...she whimpered in her head, a shuddering gasp escaping as she felt the soft brush of twill against the backs of her thighs, but her gasp turned into a throaty groan when she felt the tip of him graze her already slick opening.
Her body shook and her breath hitched in her throat as the butcher knife was carefully laid down on the desktop by her throat, an unmistakable reminder of who was in control as he brought both hands to take her hips in a firm grip. This is it...I�ve done it...I�ve made him choose between killing me and screwing me, and he�s chosen...she thought with a small, sad smile, just as the loudest crack of thunder the storm had shattered the silence of the night, and just as Michael drove his entire length into her with one smooth, brutal thrust.
A high, agonized scream was torn from her throat to fill the void left by the thunder as fresh tears began to flow down her face, dripping onto the wood below her head as her whole world became one constant, steady pain. She�d been wet, been so ready for him, but it had done little to ease his chosen method of entry, and his size alone pushed her nearly to the brink of what she knew she could handle. He was big, and she was merely a hairbreadth away from being too small for him.
He stayed strangely motionless while she whimpered, lodged inside of her as her whole body shook. She had known that it might be like this, he was a cold-blooded killer, after all. She cried out when he abruptly gave her body a sharp jerk, sliding her a few inches back across the desk and towards him. Her hands flew to the sides of the desk as her arms were now too short to reach for the far edge, clinging as her whole body tensed, knowing that more pain would shortly follow.
She gave a short sob as he nearly pulled out of her, only to drive in as hard and deep as the first thrust, her back arching and a broken cry ripping from her lungs as his hands tightened their grip, adding another layer of hurt, but now, for the second time, he stopped.
�Please, Michael. Finish it. Please, don�t wait...just take what you want and end the pain...� she pleaded miserably, her shoulders shaking as ripples of pain radiated through her body.
His heavy, labored breathing was loud in the quiet of the room as she turned her head, staring bleary-eyed at their reflection in the large mirror attached to back of her dressing table.
Why is he doing this...does he want me suffering? Does he want me in pain? Does he...she wondered despairingly, but all thoughts seemed to congeal as he released his bruising grip on her hips, reached both hands to his head, and removed his mask.
She stared speechless into the mirror as the mask was dropped to the desktop beside her face, transfixed by the sight of the man whose face, most likely, no one had ever seen. Although her room was illuminated solely by moonlight, she could just see enough in the dim light to make out a strong, straight jaw, softly messed dark hair and hauntingly dark eyes. Her body went rigid as she watched him lean forward, the heat of his body covering hers as his warm breath puffed against her sensitive skin.
A small spasm of pain flared through her as his new position put pressure on the tender tissues stretched wide to accommodate his size, and she was just about to turn her head further around to try to catch a glimpse of him when the first hot, wet droplet fell onto the smooth skin of her back.
That was...a...tear...? she thought numbly, completely dumbstruck over his incomprehensible actions. He�s...but...why? What�s happening to him? she wondered, an unexpected tremble of pleasure moving through her body as he rubbed his bare cheek against her shoulder, and she had the sudden, insane thought that he was trying to apologize to her.
This...he...this isn�t about a need to cause someone pain...he needs this...needs to be wanted...to be...needed...she thought in a sudden flash of insight, all the events of the night now coming into sharp focus.
He must have gotten into my room and hid behind the door while I was in the shower, and he could have simply broken down the door to get to me. But he waited. He had so many opportunities to cut me, to hurt me, make me suffer. But he didn�t. He touched me so gently when he could have thrown me to the floor in an instant and raped me right then and there. But he took his time. He�s fighting against something, that�s why he stopped when I had cried out in pain...oh God...I don�t think...he wanted it to be like this...not this way...she reflected sadly, willing her body to relax as she took a deep, slow breath.
She kept her eyes on the mirror as she slowly unclenched her right hand from the edge of the desk, curled her fingers around the mask crumpled in a heap at her head and held it tight.
�It�s ok, Michael...I...I know you tried to make it different, and please believe me, I want this...I want you, just...please...it hurts, please...slow...try to take it slow, ok?� she whispered nervously, her voice raw with emotion as she forcibly drove the last bit of tension from her body.
Another tear splattered against her back before he straightened, his hands once more gripping her hips and holding her still, but this time they held her gently as he slowly pulled out of her once more. Despite his change in behavior, however, she couldn�t help it when her body tensed once more in anticipation of his next thrust, her inner muscles contracting and fighting him as he tried to fill her again.
�Please...don�t...� she started to say with her voice quickly growing panicked, feeling his body tense.
She feared that he was going to hurt her again, but she soon found that all her worries were needless as he began to trail his fingers in a feather-light caress over her trembling body, her already sensitive skin feeling every touch as if magnified.
�Ohhhhh...God...please, don�t stop...don�t stop� she whispered, her body quivering as she melted under his gentle stroking, tilting her head to the side and laying her cheek flat against the cool wood of the desk.
When he leaned over her prone body once more and suddenly nipped at her shoulder, she jerked as if shocked and she could have sworn that he was amused at her reaction by the soft grunt she unmistakably heard him give. Supporting his body with his left hand, the fingers of his right made slow circles on her back, raising goose bumps where they trailed as he coaxed her body to accept his, sliding into her inch by inch until she was writhing below him.
Her pent-up cry of pleasure burst from her throat as he finally sheathed himself in her now willing body, his one hand continuing to work on her as he began a slow, gentle rhythm of unhurried thrusts.
No one had ever filled her this completely before, never had she felt anything that compared to this, and her mind and body cried out for more. Just as she had asked, Michael was taking his time, his motions unhurried and patient, but she wanted more.
�Michael...I need...I need more...I can take it now, please...� she pleaded, her voice filled with raw need, and he responded.
He quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster and deeper, but nowhere near what the first two had been. Still, she needed more. All the pain that she�d felt had now given way to a building pressure deep within her, a wave of pleasure that seemed to escape her grip every time she reached for it until she was literally shaking in the need for release.
He�s slowly killing me, and he doesn�t even know it! she wailed in her mind, now nearly frantic as her left hand shot forward to wrap trembling fingers around the handle of the heavy butcher knife, sliding it down the desktop towards him.
Despite the utter madness of what she had just done, something flared to life from deep within her as she watched him reach forward, snatch his knife and bring it slamming a good two inches into the wood of the desk and no more than an inch from her face as he somehow understood just what she wanted, needed.
Her scream of pleasure echoed off her bedroom walls as he began pounding into her just as hard and fast as before, the knife being used as leverage as he gripped it tightly, holding on to it as he took her without mercy.
He quickly brought her teetering on the edge of release, her body going rigid as he flexed his hips against hers, grinding into her with his breathing now coming in ragged gasps. With a few more hard thrusts, her scream of release was tinged with pain as he quickly threw himself forward and clamped his teeth on her shoulder, her body spasming as she felt him come inside of her.
For a few long minutes they stayed like that, his body pinning hers to the desktop as they both continued to tremble. Her ragged breathing had turned into quiet, soft pants of exhaustion before he lifted his body off hers, his strong arms wrapping around her limp body to carry her to her bed where he gently laid her out on the soft sheets.
He lay down on the bed beside her, reaching out blindly for the comforter which he pulled over them both as he spooned his body around hers, his arm wrapping around her as they allowed sleep to take them.
For the first time, Michael Myers slept peacefully.
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Bolting out of bed at the incessant harsh beeping of her alarm clock, Kat stumbled blindly across the room haphazardly before slamming her hand down on the sleep button.
I must have...been drinking again last night...I feel like utter crap...she thought, her whole body aching, her right shoulder in particular.
She strained to open her eyes against the bright morning sunlight flooding her room, and when she did, she nearly had a heart attack.
Dried muddy footprints that tracked all through her room decorated her carpet, while what appeared to be droplets of blood dotted the floor by the bathroom door. It was only until her eyes fell on the sight of the twelve inch butcher knife, it�s blade embedded in the top of her oak desk that the events of last night came flooding back to her. She slowly sat down on the edge of her bed, remembering everything.
�Michael Myers. He...we...oh God...� she whispered, reaching up to feel the crescent-shaped series of indents in the skin of her shoulder where he had bitten her. A shuddering sigh worked its way from deep in her throat as she lay back to sprawl on her bed, remembering all that he had made her feel, made her realize about herself. Made her crave.
She touched trembling fingers to the double set of five bruises that decorated the sides of each hip, a small knowing smile curving her lips as she glanced back to the knife, it�s blade shining in the sunlight glaring through her open window.
This...can�t be the only time. He�ll be back. He has to come back, he forgot his knife...
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Notes of interest:
1) The song Kat is listening to, 'Live Again' by Sevendust, is what I was listening to on YouTube when I was writing this fic. And, the clips in the YouTube vid just happened to be of both Michael Myers AND Jason Voorhees!
2) Kat's ex IS named Jason after Jason Voorhees. A good friend of mine and I were joking around one day about who would be 'bigger', Mikey or Jason. I sadly admitted that if things are in proportion, (Jason being the bigger man) Jason would be larger. This is a little 'in-joke' of mine that I was hoping others would recognize. Congrats, 1337Fuxxor.
3) When Kat exclaims in her mind 'FUCK ME SHIT', that is what L L Cool J's character says in Halloween H20 when John sneaks up behind him.
4) It's a clich�, but I just HAD to use the 'dark and stormy night' setting. Just had to.
Hey...notice that this fic begins on the 29th of October? Chapter 1 on the 29th...chapter 2 on the 30th...there are 31 days in October...
AND, if you have just read this chapter and you didn't read the fic I mentioned at the beginning, 'A Violent Necessity' by reineSeele first, not only have you just missed out on a wonderfully sexy story by an incredible writer (whom I love to bits), you have just missed out on the ENTIRE reason Mikey went for Kat in the first place! If this is the case, I hope that you will go back and read it, this fic just isn't the same without it!
If anyone sees a typo I may have missed, just let me know, preferably via private message or email. Thanks!
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