The Scorpion

The Boogeyman

The sun had finally set on your small, interesting town. You weren't quite sure if interesting was the right word for it, but it's the word you chose to use. The words chaotic, dying, or cursed didn't have quite the right connotation that you wanted it to have. It was only "interesting" because Michael lived here too. The town just wasn't the same after the murders. Michael Myers became the Boogeyman overnight. But you weren't afraid of him. Especially not after what he just did to you.

Your entire frame was shaking as the final throws of your orgasm coursed through your body. You took in a deep breath, struggling to calm yourself at least a little before you took another action. When you were ready, you looked up at the Shape next to you and made a sigh of contentment. Michael's strong chest was rising and falling in front of you, and you couldn't hold back the temptation of placing a hand on it. He allowed it. You felt the strong heartbeat underneath the thin layer of fabric, and heard his muffled panting from behind the white mask he had stolen for himself.

Michael was staring at you, but really it was more like glaring, the only sort of viewing he was capable of, although you didn't mind. You also didn't mind the sight of his hardened erection straining against the front of his coveralls. You felt your heart flip over onto itself as you saw him twitch under his clothing.

You pried your eyes away from it and looked up at his "face". In the darkening light, you could barely see his calculating eyes behind the mask's eyeholes. You scooted yourself closer, never breaking eye contact from the large man by your side. The hand on his chest snuck up to his zipper and you heard the small clicks as you started pulling it downwards.

You didn't get far before you realized you made a mistake.

Michael grabbed your hand and yanked it off him. He let out a pained grunt unlike any you had heard before as he stood up from the bed. You called out to him, trying to apologize. You had thought that by now he would've been comfortable with revealing his bare skin, especially after actually servicing you. But you were wrong, and it was too late.

Michael made another pain, gut wrenching grunt and made for the door. The distant slam of the back door made your heart almost stop. Michael left you there, naked, alone. Probably alone, truly alone, for the first time in quite a long time. You couldn't bear it. You hurried and dressed yourself into the clothes he had stripped from you and ran through your home into your back yard. You called for him, over and over, until your voice had started to grow hoarse from your yells. The next-door neighbor's light turned on in the dark, and you decided it was time to go back inside.

Despite the chill that had snuck into your once warm home, you stripped yourself down once more and went to bed. You didn't sleep. You couldn't sleep. You lay there, waiting. You waited for the pale white face to show itself in the corner of your room once more. You wanted him to sneak in the way you both knew he wasn't supposed to, but you wouldn't be mad.

You left the back door unlocked.

You tried your hardest to keep your eyes open despite the weighty sleepiness pressing down on you to no avail. Sleep overtook you and dragged you under.

You dreamt of soft lips and silent eyes.

———
You woke up a few minutes before your alarm. Usually you would force yourself to fall back asleep, even for another 2 minutes because you knew you would need it, but not this time. You let those minutes pass by as you stared at the ceiling above you. And then you thought about things. Which was probably the worse thing you could do at the moment.

You didn't know if he was coming back again. You wouldn't blame him if you didn't. You had gone too far; you had assumed too much. You assumed that he would be okay with showing you more of him but you betrayed his trust. You know what they say: assume makes an ass out of you and me. You were realizing it now, that it wasn't about being physically naked for Michael, but rather being vulnerable. He just could not have that. The mask was his shelter, and that extended down to his clothing. No wonder you had never seen him wear something el—