My Killer

His Gentle Haven

I could feel the warmth radiate off of Michael when I woke. His front was molded against my back, fitting snuggly together much like a pair of badly mismatched spoons would. In other words, Michael's much larger mass swallowed up mine, making me feel somewhat petite in his arms. His masculine form produced this distinct sensation, an uncanny feeling that it was keeping me safe from imaginary monsters. The irony of that was not lost on me, because despite giving myself to him in the shower last night, I was still painfully aware of just who it was that I should fear in all of this. But despite knowing who the real monster was, despite knowing what he was, I couldn't help but let my own guard noticeably down as I woke from my slumber. I felt oddly safe cocooned within the prison of his arms. It was such a contradictory feeling considering the hell he had just put me through, a feeling my own mind tried to reason away with pure logic. I shouldn't feel safe, warm, nor rested. I should feel fucking petrified that I was still here, goddamnit.

I tried to untangle my limbs from Michael's without stirring the sleeping killer from his peaceful slumber, but it was all to no avail. Michael woke the very moment I lifted his paw away from my right breast, and he responded to my action by putting his paw right back where he apparently felt that it belonged. It kind of ticked me off. The bastard even gave the soft rounded flesh an extra squeeze just for the pure hell of it, which made my nipple harden against the palm of his hand in turn. I couldn't help but feel a slight tug in the pit of my stomach.

I hated the tingling sensation that started to grow in my tummy almost as much as I despised the man himself. Michael had an uncanny way of manipulating even the most basic of emotions. Heck, he had even managed to make something as simple as pleasure feel like agonizing pain. It made me wonder what emotions were even my own at this point and which ones were merely a twisted layer of fabricated deceit quilted into me by his nimble ministrations. Or had all of this been in me from the very beginning, and Michael was merely the catalyst that spurred such emotions forth? Was the despicable lust prowling the perimeter of my consciousness something of my own creation or was it instilled within me by Michael himself? I was lusting after a killer, after a man that had shown me just as much pain as pleasure, if not more, and that there didn't even begin to scratch the multilayered horror that had been his actions as of late. I would love to think the latter, that these burning emotions were all due to his manipulation, but a part of me had the nagging feeling that there had to have been something there to begin with. I mean, one man couldn't possibly change the very fabric of someone else's being, could he? Was my mind that easily swayed? Or did I already harbor these unc...

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of all of these unwanted thoughts and the smothering sensations that had started this mental turmoil to begin with.

"Ummm... I need to..."

I never got to finish my sentence before Michael's deep rumbling voice beat me to the punch.

"...pee. Yes, I know, princess. You have a bladder the size of a fucking acorn in the morning... I have gathered that much by your short stay here. Just give me five more minutes and I'll help you get to the bathroom..."

A sigh marked the end of his side of the discussion, but I wasn't nearly done.

"I can get there... on my own... two... fucking... feet."

I started to struggle in his grip before I even managed to finish uttering the biting remark.

Michael held my body captive for a whole extra minute after I gave up and finally finished the pointless struggle, probably to prove a fucked-up point. He was stronger than me, and in my current state, I didn't even stand a snowball's chance in hell against him.

"Can you now... ... ... ...? Fine. Give me a little show then, walk over there on your own two feet."

To say that the bastard looked smug would have been an understatement. Michael actually had the audacity to celebrate his victory in advance. The slight twitching in the corner of his lips and the raised curve of his right brow was actually nothing compared to the amusement that made his dark eyes twinkle in the dimmed bedroom lights. He was so sure that I would fall flat on my ass in front of him. And to be quite honest, part of me was sort of leaning towards the same conclusion, but that didn't stop me. I would not let him have this one satisfaction. He had already taken too much from me.