A/N: Thank you once again MelanthaRose for leaving a little review. I do enjoy hearing that people like my work. :)
The room was almost quiet except for Gretchen's heavy, deep breathing. Her bare back was turned to him, he resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her skin. Michael hadn't slept much. Paying special and close attention to her every move, every breath. Watching, waiting, and thinking.
He inhaled and then slowly exhaled. He'd changed their relationship, changed the status quo. A lot of major steps were taken in a very short amount of time. There was more to it than just sex, much to the frustration of that side of him that only want blood and death. He'd been tested so many times, successfully pulling himself away from her just before breaking his resolve. She was just a means to his own sexual end. His little fuck toy.
Was.
It was inevitable; him taking off his mask and showing her his face. He knew that. He fought hard against that, but he knew it would eventually happen. He knew that eventually, he'd find her sleeping by his side. It did bring up some interesting new morning possibilities. But, he figured it would take time for those two things to happen. Unfortunately, both steps had to be taken in short succession. He had to sleep in her bed, which meant his mask was coming off.
She sighed and he gave her a quick look. For the first time in his life, he had felt some form of fear.
Michael shifted, uncomfortable with the sensation, and turned his attention to the ceiling. Fear? Him? He took in a deep breath as his heart picked up ever so slightly.
He'd been on his way out. Annoyed with himself for even coming back home. Annoyed that he wanted to take off his mask and have passionate sex with her. He was a killer. Faceless. Meant to strike fear in the hearts of anyone who saw him. She wasn't afraid of him anymore, and he had planned on correcting that.
Had.
Michael glanced over at Gretchen again. He wasn't a man to ask questions, to make assumptions, to worry about an outcome that didn't happen. But, what if he ignored her moan and walked by her room.
He was on his way out, ready to get blood on his hands. Ready to remind his body and that part of him that wanted to be nice that he wasn't nice. He was a killer. And as he passed her door she moaned. It was a sound he was getting familiar with. A sound he liked.
He couldn't resist but push her door open. She hadn't closed it completely when she went to bed. Waiting for him? She was asleep on her side, facing the door. Her comforter was wrapped around her, but her left leg was sticking out. Her body rolled in that sexual way he was starting to recognize. And her hand was clearly rubbing her pussy.
That froze him, turned him on, and brought a myriad of questions to his mind. Did she have sex dreams before? Was it about him? Or was it someone else?
A hint of jealousy coursed through him at the thought of her dreaming about anyone else but him.
Her moans had no name to them. Although, she had yet to call out his name. His thoughts of killing were immediately replaced with the idea of waking her up to give her the pounding she was dreaming about. Maybe, just maybe, he could get her to scream out his name.
Gretchen let out a little grunt and moved, catching his attention. Flipping over to face him, she exhaled loudly at her effort and paused. His heart picked up slightly as he glanced over at her still sleeping form. Her breathing returned to normal, allowing him to calm down.
She had stopped breathing. At first, he thought it was normal. He didn't know what her sleeping pattern was. And, she tended to pause in her breathing moments before she came. It was as if her brain couldn't concentrate on doing two things at once. So, he'd chalked it up to her sex dream, and waited for that moment to see her unravel. But then, it took too long. Her mouth dropped slightly and it sounded as if she was trying to breathe but she couldn't.
Michael felt the hairs on his arms rise ever so slightly, recalling the growing panic he felt.
He'd stepped in closer, half thinking that maybe he was wrong. Maybe she was breathing but she was quieter. But, her face started to turn red and she started to move in desperation. One hand reached up and she placed it on her throat as if trying to pull an invisible hand off it.
His brief panic had been replaced with annoyance at the stupid fool. Clearly, she wore a necklace or something that was choking her. He had stormed over to her, just to get the damn thing off before she let out a loud gasp. She started coughing, but she was breathing again.
It didn't take long for it to start up again. She stopped breathing, and she started to struggle, but her attempts were weaker. She hadn't fully recovered from the earlier incident. He sat on her bed and tried to help her, but then she started fighting him. Clawing at his arms as if he was trying to hurt her. He'd pressed his hand on her throat to see if he could feel something that may have been lodged in there. That was when she woke up.
He could understand, from her perspective, why she thought it was him choking her. He had choked people before, he was a killer after all. But he felt like vindicating himself for some reason. He felt like he needed to show her what was really choking her so she wouldn't blame him. He'd done a lot of things to her he was willing to take the blame for, but choking her wasn't one of them. At least, not yet. And he wasn't ready to kill her.
But her panic and inability to think straight had made things difficult, forcing him to calm her down. Him! Comfort her? But he liked it. Caressing her cheek in an attempt to get her to calm down. Once she allowed him to search her, he didn't find anything to explain why she stopped breathing. She wasn't wearing a necklace, there was no cloth or anything that had wrapped around her neck to explain the incident away. And, he hadn't felt a lump in her throat. It perplexed him.
The look in her eyes that shifted from pure panic to confused understanding fascinated him. Made him want to do nice things. Made him want to pull her in close and kiss her to reassure her that it wasn't him. It was a good thing he spotted his knife on the nightstand. It reminded him of what he planned on doing. But, he only managed to get to the front door before that resolve disappeared and questions polluted his mind.
What if? What if she hadn't fully recovered? What if she stopped breathing again? And his decision to stay doomed him.
A hand lightly touched his shoulder, making him raise his eyebrows and lower his eyes.
"You stayed." Gretchen's soft voice intrigued him. She looked as if she still couldn't believe her eyes. Not that he could blame her.
He turned his attention to her. Her hazel eyes moved as she studied his face, searching for a clue, a reason why he stayed. He was never going to tell her. He could begrudgingly admit to himself the real reason. But he couldn't give her that power.
"Can I?" She didn't finish her question as she scooted in closer to him. She made sure that the comforter wrapped tightly around her still naked body. She hadn't gotten dressed when she returned to bed, much to his enjoyment.
He looked down at her, letting her gently examine his face with her fingers. She did that last night as well. Half asked a question but took the liberty to do what she wanted to do. So bold. If she hadn't, he would have left. If she hadn't, they wouldn't be there in bed together.
That kiss was both a boon and a curse. So simple, so sweet, the want in her body and eyes begging for more, but her ultimate restrain in pulling those feelings back. That kiss made him realize two things.
"Why?" she asked, giving him a quizzical expression.
Of course, she had to ask that. Why indeed. He reached out and brushed her cheek for a moment. Then ran his hand down and stopped on her neck. He gently stroked her soft, warm skin. She stiffened slightly, her eyes widened and her face went a little pale as she waited for his grip to tighten. He didn't move his fingers, feeling her swallow. Her eyes were on him, studying him, but he kept his focus on her neck. She looked away for a moment, turning her head.
"Michael?" she asked. She pressed the comforter closer to her chest and sat up. "Did I stop breathing?"
Smart, picking up his hint. He didn't bother answering, not that he would have said a word. But, he'd been thinking all night and he was tired of it. Plus, she was awake now. He lowered his hand, tugging at the comforter to see her naked breasts.
"Oh," she said softly a hint of disappointment in her voice, further confirming what he had started to suspect. Her hand tightened around the comforter as she clutched it to her chest, eyes narrowing in defiance.
He smirked, meeting her gaze. Still fighting? He sat up and she leaned back a little.
She liked him. That was his first revelation with that kiss. She had made the move last night, not him. She had kissed him. And yet, she was fighting her attraction toward him just as he was fighting his interest in her that went beyond fucking. Or at least, he had been. He'd finally come to an understanding with himself, having thought all night about it.
He moved his hand under the comforter till he felt her skin, making her jump. He'd aimed correctly, running his fingers and palm over her scars. She gasped and fidgeted, but he didn't let up, keeping a firm gaze on her. He liked the fight she put up. Trying to get away but ultimately relenting in the end. That deepened his acknowledgment of his second revelation.
He was obsessed with her. He had thought, or rather hoped, that it was just about sex. That her body attracted that primal part of him. The part of him that he hadn't indulged in because there was no reason to. He'd never felt a sexual attraction to anyone like he did to her. Might as well take advantage of it. See what sex was about and fuck her till he grew tired of her. His little object. His little fuck toy.
But, last night, he realized that he couldn't keep lying to himself. He couldn't keep fighting a losing battle. He was obsessed with her. All of her. Her body, her voice, her expressions, her movements, her life, her personality. The little bits that kept popping up intrigued him. How did a woman go from fighting for her life to teasing him? To wanting to fuck him?
She let the comforter drop, revealing her naked breasts, to grab his hand. Her eyes narrowed again as she studied him. She opened her mouth ready to say something. And he waited for those words.
She always found a way to mesmerize him with her words and actions. So much he didn't expect. Her light, playful teases as she tested what she could get away with. Her casual conversation about her life surprised him. What was she going to say now?
She shook her head and let his hand go, dropping hers to her side. Her eyes moved as she glanced away from him to the bed. Then she focused her attention on him again.
His blood rushed down to his cock as he stared at her breasts for a moment. Both nipples were perky from the cold. He rather enjoyed paying attention to them the night before. He enjoyed paying attention to all of her.
He leaned in. His mouth found hers as he ran one hand behind her back, using his other hand to stabilize himself. She didn't bother fighting. She returned the attention in her own way. Wrapping one arm around his neck while her other hand stroked his chest. He partially choked on a groan as her fingers brushed against his cock. He wasn't sure why that surprised him.
She broke their kiss, leaning back a little to look directly into his eyes. Her face looked serious.
"You can't get enough of me, can you?" she asked. He blinked in confusion as her words didn't match her serious face. The corners of her mouth twitched and one raised slightly as she did her best to suppress her smile. Her eyes danced with mirth. She was teasing him again.
He pulled her legs, making her yip as she lost balance and landed on her back on the bed. He didn't give her time to think, placing his body between her legs. She let out a loud giggle, running her fingers along his face and hair. He grabbed her hands, roughly forcing them over her head in retaliation.
You're driving me crazy. He opened his mouth but bit back the words. To hide the fact that he wanted to speak, he pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back without hesitation. Her kiss, her lips. Damn her.
He grinded his body against her. One hand easily trapped her wrists while the other went down to her pussy. She moaned into his mouth. He ran his fingers along her, rubbing her clit. He was more than ready to have sex. It was something he wanted to do before he left the bed. But, she wasn't quite there yet.
"Michael," she whispered.
He rose up slightly to look at her. She gave the nightstand a quick nod.
"There's lube in there," she stated.
He let her hands go to lean over her and open the only drawer. He pulled the bottle out and returned his body to be directly over her. He stared at the bottle for a moment. She took it from his hands without question and squeezed some out onto her hand.
She paused and gave him a sharp look. She didn't take her eyes off his, running her hands back down to clasp his cock. His muscles tensed and he moaned at her firm grasp and touch. His eyes closed for a brief moment. Fuck.
He forced his eyes open to focus on her again. The corner of her mouth was partially raised as she fought hard not to smile. Little Temptress. He grabbed her hand moving it over her head to join the other and rubbed himself against her slit. Her little groans and the rolls of her hips delighted him.
He used one hand to guide himself into her. Her eyes fluttered slightly and her mouth parted. That look on her face, he loved it. He was barely in her before he slammed in the rest of the way, making her cry out and arch ever so slightly.
Gretchen. Fuck, he thought, biting back the words that wanted to slip out. Her pussy wrapped around him just right. She mewled in response to his groan. He wasn't going to last long and he didn't want to.
Her hips moved to meet his thrusts. Her moans were louder as he pounded into her. It was different from before. She always gave in at the end after putting up a small fight. A small resistance to him fucking her. But last night and now she was putting less restraint on herself. Giving in to her own carnal pleasure.
Fuck! He let go of her hands to wrap his arms under her body. Her teeth grazed his shoulder. She'd done that last night too. Bitten him and it drove him crazy, feeling her teeth on his skin. There was something about it. As if she had no idea what she wanted to do so the only response was to bite him.
His balls tightened. He didn't hold himself back as he came in her pussy with a loud groan. He was never going to stop doing that. She was always going to be his. His to mark.
He rested his head in the crook of her neck, thrusting into her a few more times, enjoying her warm heat. She let out a satisfied moan, gripping his back with her fingers for a moment before letting him go.
Kissing her neck once, he let out a sigh and rolled off her.
He was a killer and he was a lover. What a strange combination. But, he'd come to terms with that earlier, lying awake next to her, staring at the ceiling. He still felt it. The urge to kill, get his hands bloody. Feed off the fear of his victims. She hadn't quelled that part of him. In fact, he'd realize that she only strengthened him. He'd kill for her. He'd kill to keep her. Kill to protect her. She was fucked in every way. His in every way.
He rose up a little bit, pausing to run one hand along her scars again. Her body trembled and she sucked in her stomach again. He glanced at her, narrowing his eyes.
I'm never going to stop touching you there. He wasn't entirely sure if she would ever be comfortable. He couldn't explain why, not even to himself. He just liked touching her there. Reassuring her perhaps? No, that was silly. Whatever the reason he felt it necessary and he liked doing it.
With a sigh, he got up and out of bed. His killer half slowly regained control as the lover part of him sat back, satisfied. He got dressed, turning his back to her while he did so. His blood coursed through his veins ready for a different stimulus.
"Michael," she called out as he stepped into the doorway.
He turned his head to look at her. She lay on the bed in a sultry way, a comforter covering her naked body.
"I still hope you don't get to kill anyone," she stated.
He smirked at her words. If I don't, you'll get it, he thought. She blushed as if she understood what his smirk meant. With that, he slipped on his mask before leaving her view.
His body sang with energy and his mind slipped into a single focus, no more clashing within him. It shouldn't have surprised him. He should have figured it out earlier. He couldn't easily focus on killing people because he was conflicted, confused by the new role his brain had picked up. He fought against it when he should have tested it, figured it out, and come to terms with it. But now, he knew who he was, what he was. He was still Michael Myers. A killer to the world, no mercy. But to Gretchen and only her, he was a lover.