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Desideratum	By : reineSeele Category: G through L > Halloween (All) > Halloween (All) Views: 4170 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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-Desideratum
- 2-Chapter 2
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- 2
Author�s Note: Just a quickie thought that I had one evening. This is nothing specific, just something random that I came up with. Not meant to be taken as part of a larger anything. Enjoy, and please Review, for it makes me smile, both inside and out. Thank you for reading.

Desideratum: (noun) something desired as essential

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Desideratum

Essential Living

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She leaps from the bed and runs from him, runs like her life depends on it. The stairs are taken three at a time, and she barely bothers to watch her feet. What's it matter if she slips? She had fallen so long ago.
He chases her at a more leisurely pace, confident that he'll catch her before long. He treads down the stairs quietly, his bare feet making no noise against the soft carpeting. He finds her in the kitchen, sitting atop one of the counters. She giggles and beckons him closer, spreading her legs for him. His head tilts to the side in question before he obeys her unspoken command, sauntering towards her with wicked intent in his dark eyes, barely visible through the mask he wears.
She stares at his naked body, the way it moves beneath the dim light of the kitchen. The soft glow bounces off of him in all the right places, accentuating the cut of his muscles and the sharp angles of his masculine body. She swoons as he moves to stand in between her outstretched legs, the head of his swollen shaft coming into contact with her sex.
He is beautiful, though she does not speak it out loud. He wouldn't understand. He knows that his body is scarred and burned from years of disservice, and he knows that his skin is uneven in places. He knows that he is bloody and dirty most of the time, and he knows that he is ugly compared to others. He will not let her see his face, so she doesn't know what he looks like. But in her mind he is beautiful, scars and all. His body is like a match and hers is a candle waiting to be lit.
He leans his head against her shoulder, pulling her into a warm embrace. Sometimes he just wants to hold her, or be held. He likes the small touches, the ones that he missed out on as a child. She knows all of his pleasure spots. Stroking the back of his neck makes him sigh happily, and petting his chest elicits grunts of delight. Rubbing his back makes him purr and tickling his ribs makes him flinch. She knows his body better than she knows her own, but it's okay, because she knows that he will always be there to help her rediscover herself.
His hands slide down her body to rest on her thighs, and he gently pushes them outwards, further away so that he may stand more comfortably in between them. She bites back a moan as he caresses her skin; if it weren't for the mask, one wouldn't think him to be a murderer. Beneath it, he was still a man, and he had the needs and desires of any man.
Her hands flutter over his chest, tracing his scars and wondering what caused them. He never talks, so she doesn't know. The silence never bothers her, though; a moan of pleasure is worth all the words of love in the world to her.
His stomach tightens as her hand splays across his abdomen, pressing lightly. His chest heaves as he soaks in the warmth of her touch. He needs her, and he knows it. With a single swift movement he is within her, and she cries out from the wonderful agony of being fulfilled to the point of discomfort. She knows how he likes it and has adapted to fit his tastes.
Her thighs clench about his waist, urging him to continue, not wanting to wait any longer. He nods in approval and braces himself against the counter with one hand, his other arm moving to slide around her back. Her bottom scoots closer to him as he begins his rhythmic thrusting, which is just like him: slow, unhurried, and calculated. He touches every inch of her insides with long, languid strokes that she swears nearly set her on fire, for she can feel herself burning. Burning, yet not in pain.
He feels the burn too, deep within him, though not as strong. To him she is more like ice, cool and wonderfully refreshing and just what he needs. His breath comes in ragged gasps now as he quickens his pace, his thrusts becoming more fierce and demanding. She makes the little noises that drive him crazy, the sounds that let him know that what he's doing is good and right and she wants it more than anything. Those sounds are sounds of passion, an emotion that he is still getting used to after years of loneliness.
He craves her like she craves him, more so, perhaps. Her nails dig into his back, reopening the scarred skin but he does not care. They are new scars that he will remember for a long time, and their memory will bring neither pain nor anguish, but pleasure and delight, feelings of want.
He pauses for a moment, allowing his hand to slip up to cup one of her breasts. She moans, arching into his touch and wondering how one man can cause her to become undone so completely. Her hands leave his back and settle on his chest, raking over his nipples and down towards his manhood, which is still embedded in her hot flesh. She touches him and he quivers noticeably. He likes her touch, especially when she touches him like that. It feels too good to last, but last it does. She strokes one finger along what she can and he jerks forward, slamming into her forcefully.
She cries out at the sudden movement, clamping her legs around his waist and practically begging him to continue. He does, feeling that familiar build-up within his stomach that tells him that Nirvana is near. He knows that she feels the same by the way her face flushes and her moans grow louder. He moves against her almost violently, taking her as a man takes a woman in a fit of passion, ravishing her until there is nothing left. His head is on her shoulder as his ministrations become a painful effort to accomplish, release dancing just out of reach. He slams into her once, twice, three times and her shout of completion is all that he needs to hear to set off his own.
They slump against one another, grateful for the solid backing of the counter and wondering if it's safe to walk. She moves first, pushing him back and hopping off the counter with more grace than he has in his entire body at this moment. She takes him by his hand and leads him to a couch where she lies down and pulls him after her. Still hard for her, he pushes his cock into her, groaning at the awful, wonderful pressure. He lies on top of her, head nestled between her breasts and her legs lazily splayed across his lower back.
They stay like that for some time, joined yet unmoving, just enjoying the feel of each other. His sigh is a heavy one, but she strokes his shoulders lovingly, wondering about his past. He is broken and tortured in many areas, that she sees, but he is also strong and enduring. He's been through much and though she doesn't know about most of it, she knows that she'll be here, waiting for him in the end.
She clenches her muscles around him and he holds onto her with a childlike anxiety of separation, but she does not let go of him. She manages to bring them both to a second orgasm this way, and his slow moan is worth the effort. His panting turns into the steady breathing of a man in a deep slumber and she smiles. It's not often that he falls asleep so easily. The nightmares take him, and he wakes up in a violent mood. It's not always easy, but it is worth it. She'll take the nightmares any day, just so long as he stays.
She doesn't know what she'd do without him.
His arms fall limply to her side and she rests her hands on his head and shoulder. Her eyes close, and she too falls asleep. It is still dark when she awakens to find his comforting and familiar weight missing. She looks around sadly, hoping to spot the ghostly white of his mask, but it is too dark. The sudden touch of his hands on her face causes her to startle, but she relaxes almost immediately as the hands begin to caress. He tilts her head back and she still can't see anything, but she is shocked when she feels a pair of warm, pliable lips against her own.
The kiss is hesitant and shy, as if unsure of the procedure, but it is a sweet kiss and she melts beneath it. He is gone the next moment and she knows that the mask is back in place and the knife back in his hand. He will return in several weeks, bloodied and wounded but desperately seeking the warmth that she offers him. She knows that she's insane for forming attachments to a murderer, but her mother had always told her that you can't help who you fall in love with. She had laughed before, but now she knows this to be true.
She can't help that she's fallen in love with Michael Myers.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Please Review!
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Desideratum