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Desideratum	By : reineSeele Category: G through L > Halloween (All) > Halloween (All) Views: 4171 -:- 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: I wasn�t going to add anything, but this hit me and I felt encouraged to put it up as well. Hope you enjoy Michael�s point of view. Please review!

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He prefers to visit her during the night, when the chances of being seen are minimal. The windows are easy to force open because she keeps them that way just for him. The house is dark and it's late, so he knows that she is already asleep. He treads up the stairs silently, stilling his breath for the time being. He does not wish to wake her right away.
The door slides open without a sound and he steps into the room without trepidation. He sees her lying on the bed, on top of the sheets and wonders if she's worried. These thoughts don't come to him often, and it is only because he has been gone for much longer than usual that he thinks them. Will she remember him or will she be fearful of his presence?
The mattress gives way to his weight as he sits down beside her, intelligent eyes staring out from behind a featureless mask. She does not fear the mask and has never once tried to remove it. For that he is thankful, for he does not wish her to see his face.
She is wearing minimal clothing tonight and he strokes her bare shoulder gently, marveling at the softness of her skin, so unlike his own. How she can look at him without disgust or pity is beyond him, but she seems to know that he wants neither emotion. Sometimes he thinks she knows him better than he does, and he is right. She knows certain things about his body that not even he is aware of, things that had never existed before.
His hand runs along her arm and then her side, tracing a scar on her stomach from some sort of surgery. She doesn't think she's appealing, but he thinks otherwise. He finds her very attractive. The soft sigh that escapes her lips drives him to remove his clothing so that he may lie down beside her and rest. He pauses for a moment after remembering that he is wounded and bloody. Her sheets will be ruined and she will be angry. Dejected, he almost turns away when a small hand tugs at his wrist.
She is awake, has been for the last few minutes. She asks him to stay and he does, immediately sinking into the softness of her bed. He allows her to wrap around him and he huddles close to her, folding his arms around her middle. She holds him, patting his back and humming something soft and soothing. She runs her hands across his scars, old and new, never flinching when her fingers come away covered in blood. She does not care that her night things have been ruined, and she does not shy away from him.
He shuts his eyes briefly, feeling only her touch. Her hands are always soft and gentle, never hurting or biting. He likes how small they are compared to his own. It is dark when he opens his eyes, so dark that he is confident that she can't see him at all. He holds his breath as he removes his mask, pulling it from his sweaty skin and pushing it to the side. He doesn't need to hear her hum of approval to know that she is excited. He rarely removes the mask, and she has yet to see his face.
Her fingers trace his cheek lightly, as if memorizing him by touch alone. She smoothes his hair against his head and neck, petting him into a sense of security. His eyes close again and he leans into her. He never closes his eyes. Only when he's alone does he sleep. He is able to sleep beside her because he knows that she will never try to hurt him. He trusts her, and his trust is his greatest gift.
Her hands become more daring as she places her fingers against his lips. Her hair tickles his face as she leans in and he almost bolts from the bed when her lips replace her fingers. But she does not press him and the kiss is short and unobtrusive. His hands unlock themselves from behind her back and roam to her hips. He likes to touch her, since she is so willing. He likes her because of that, because of her lack of reserve when it comes to him. It is important to him, to be wanted and needed and loved by another.
He pushes up her top until it is over her head, and he flings it to the floor. The same fate awaits her bottoms and then she is as naked as he. He pulls her close, wanting to feel her body flush against his own. She is small compared to him, easily breakable, but he would never harm her. He does not want to. He needs her. He touches her thighs as far as he can reach and then he presses a hand against her stomach, like she does to him. She smiles at him through the dark, even though he can't see it.
His fingers are always curious, always discovering new areas to explore. He likes to touch her face and hair, since it is so different from his own. His leg slides in between hers and she sighs again. He pushes his face into her shoulder, hiding as he moves against her, prodding her with his desire. She cups the back of his neck and holds him as he shakes, wondering where he had gone and what he had done. She doesn't need to know, though, so she never mentions it.
He is hard for her, but he is also tired. His wounds sting and need tending, but he aches for her too greatly. He is torn between the need for rest and the need for her. She seems to sense his dilemma and reaches in between their bodies to touch him. It's a different touch from before, this one slight and almost reverent. Still, he arches his back and makes a noise of want, pushing himself into her hands. She lifts her leg over his hip and allows him to slide into her. He groans at her heat; it has been a long time since he left her.
She cries out in pleasure and pulls him to her, running her fingers through his hair and forcing him to be still. He cradles her for some time, breathing in her scent and allowing her warmth to invade every part of her being. He likes how on the inside she is warm and inviting but on the outside she is cool and invigorating. He likes how tight she is around him and how she makes pleased sounds that make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
They lie there for a bit, breathing and existing in each other's presence. He feels the need to move and his thrusts start out slow and labored, but she likes it that way and he knows it. She always clings to him in these moments, as if she is holding on for dear life. What she doesn't know is that it's really he who is holding onto her. Before long he is moved onto his back and she straddles him, knowing that he is too fatigued to exert much energy. He grips her thighs tightly and she welcomes the brief pain, knowing that she'll have bruises by morning.
He grunts as she begins to ride him and she knows to be gentle. His hands are rough against the skin of her breasts but she does not care. She doesn't care that he is bloody and dirty, she cares that he is alive and back where he is welcome, away from the prying eyes of the world. She feels him growl low in his throat before he comes and she follows not too long afterwards.
He is very tired now and only wishes to rest, so she lays down behind him and puts her arms around his torso. He acknowledges her position with a brief lift of his shoulder; he likes her behind him like that. He needs to feel wanted, and she lets him know with every move her body makes. Her breath tickles his shoulder as she falls asleep and he feels her body contour to fit his.
In the morning he will wake before her and don his mask. They will sit in the bathroom and she will tend to his wounds. She will worry and fuss like always but she will never tell him to stop doing what he does. She only tells him to be careful. It always surprises him when she says that. She doesn't care that he is a murderer, she just knows that he is a man and she knows that he needs her as much as she needs him, if not more so. She stays because she wants to and he keeps returning because he needs to.
Their existence together is not always easy, especially when he awakes from his nightmares in a rage, but she never flees from him in fear. He isn't always there for her and he isn't always sociable, but he cares for her in his own small way and he lets her know it. He will continue to leave her for weeks at a time, but he knows that he'll always be able to come back to her house and be welcomed by someone who loves him. It isn't perfect, but they make it work.
He was too young when he was removed from his mother's love, and before now he had never known the touch of another woman. He receives more than enough love from her to make up for the lost years of his life. He exhales sleepily and closes his eyes for the last time that evening, trusting the woman in who's arms he lay. For tonight, he would sleep.
With her, Michael Myers could sleep.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review!
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Desideratum