Curate, connect, and discover
Lurking and Lusting
MINORS DNI
warnings: dom amab reader, sub Michael Myers, voyeurism, exhibitionism, handjobs, virgin michael, written with '78 mikey in mind
Michael loves lurking around the house.
He stands in doorways of the rooms you hang out in, he watches you through windows and through cracked doors, and even if you close and lock a door you can see his feet under the door frame- giving away how he’s looming outside and waiting for you. He’s like a particularly evasive and aloof cat, except instead of leaving you dead mice you sometimes stumble upon a decapitated head.
You've heightened your senses to pick up on his presence better, first as a way of survival, yet now due to an interest in the large, quiet, distant man.
He really is like a cat, with the way you feed and house him. You'd never call him a roommate considering he doesn’t pay rent like a roommate would. Though you wish he would, because feeding and covering for him should be a bit financially rewarding. You’d broached the topic once and Michael had just stared at you until you’d awkwardly laughed and left it at that, knowing you were getting nowhere (but sometimes you find random people’s wallets on the bedside table. You take the money and forget you saw anything).
A lot of “conversations” end like that, with him staring at you, like maybe you’re stupid for getting this comfortable with a killer in your home. Maybe you are, because you are getting really comfortable with a killer in your home.
You’ve gotten him to sit with you- instead of him standing for sometimes hours- more and more, every once in a while you hear him grunt when you talk to- or rather, at- him, and you know he’s getting comfortable with you too. So comfortable that he likes to stand outside the door and watch when you masturbate.
You don't mind it, obviously, otherwise you would've told him off, but it is a bit disappointing. He never enters, nor does anything to make himself known to you. The tension grows between the two of you as you continue to touch yourself to the thought of him, and he continues to watch.
It occurs to you one night, laying on your back propped against your pillows with your lubed hand fisting your cock, that maybe Mikey- he’d kill you (maybe actually, really kill you) if you called him that to his face- is waiting for permission. It wouldn’t be the first time that his lack of communication has led to you needing to call all the shots in your arrangement.
You've called out his name before, of course to no answer, but tonight you try again.
"Michael," you groan, and of course, no answer. "You can, ah, come in," it's worth a try, but you doubt he'll make any moves.
You squeeze your dick in shock as the door creaks open. The light from the window illuminates his mask, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you think you can see how he eyes you up hungrily. It makes a shiver go down your back, and your cock twitches in your hand.
He steps forward just enough to close the door behind him, and stares at you, just watching. You slow down your pace, staring back at him. The two of you look at each other for a moment, the slick sound of the lube and heavy breathing being the only noises in the room.
“You can take a closer look,” you finally suggest playfully, quickly adding, “if you want.” Michael shifts from one heavy boot-clad foot to another, then steps closer.
He stands, tall and stiff, at the edge of your bed. His thighs touch the bed but he makes no move to get onto it. With him hovering over you like this, watching you so intently, you briefly wonder if maybe this isn’t a good idea.
Michael's hands are empty, but there’s no saying that he couldn’t have a knife in his pocket. He might just be waiting for the very last second to stab you to death- killing you for your hubris and sinful nature- as he’s done to so many before you. Strangely enough, the thought of that doesn’t make you any less turned on. In fact, you think, if it’s even possible, maybe more blood rushed down to your cock at the idea of him straddling you with a knife.
Despite your grim fantasies, you can tell Michael is at least a little interested in the scene before him. With him so close to you, you can easily see how his coveralls are tented by his erection. And if he hasn’t killed you yet, maybe he never will.
“Do-” Michael, who’s been staring at your dick, watching you stroke yourself, snaps his head up to look at your face at the sound of your voice. “Do you want to touch me?” you ask carefully, knowing that you look as flustered as you feel. Michael waits for a moment and you can’t tell if he’s really thinking about your question or just teasing you. Then he nods.
You let out a breath you didn’t know that you were holding, spreading your legs. “Come sit,” Michael follows orders surprisingly well (and you wonder if it’s just because it’s you who’s doing the ordering), getting between your legs slowly.
As soon as you remove your hand Michael goes to touch your cock, “wait-” he pauses, looking up at you expectantly. You grab the lube, pouring some onto his hand. Michael flexes it, grunting softly at the feel of it coating his fingers and palm.
“Do you ever touch yourself, Michael?” you ask as he wraps his hand around you. He nods, slowly jerking you off in a similar fashion to how you were stroking yourself not minutes ago. You fist your hands into the bed sheets, trying to ground yourself as Michael Myers, the shape that’s been haunting Haddonfield for years, strokes your cock.
“Do you- yeah, just like that- do you touch yourself when you watch me?” Michael nods again, staring at your cock as he plays with the tip of it in a way that could best be described as curious.
You let him mess around with you for a bit, let him get used to touching another person, let him learn what you like and don’t like, before you start talking again.
“Can I- ah- touch you?” Michael freezes, slowly looking up at you. “I wouldn’t touch the mask, promise,” he seems relieved hearing that, so he continues jerking you off and nods. You slowly start unzipping his coveralls, revealing the black t-shirt he has on underneath. Getting it opened up a bit more you slip your hands under his shirt and run your hands along his chest, feeling him up and not missing the way his breath hitches as your fingers come in contact with his nipples.
You’re starting to get a little fuzzy headed as he continues stroking you, like your climax is steadily approaching. You don’t want him to stop touching you, but you also want this to last for as long as possible.
“Michael,” he looks up at you, squeezing your dick at the sound of his name falling from your lips. “I want to see you with your clothes off,” you tell him honestly. He seems to consider this for a moment, and then he’s removing his hand from you backing up off of you. He gets off the bed, and you’re a bit scared for a second that you may have scared him away. Those thoughts dissipate when he starts to undress for you.
You’re salivating by the time he’s naked. Of course the mask is still on, you would have been shocked if he took it off. His body is littered in scars, fresh and old, and they remind you of who he is and what he's done. You brush off the reminder that he's a murderer easily, so easily it should be beyond concerning. Instead of worrying about all that you let your eyes wander more. Seeing his pretty pink nipples makes you want to suck on his chest and kiss your way down his happy trail to his cock.
Speaking of his dick, he's uncut and currently so hard and red it looks like it hurts. You coo softly and pat your lap, “c’mere baby,” with him undressed you can see the way the pet name makes his chest flush.
He plops himself down in your lap like he’s meant to be there. His thick thighs, which are stationed at either side of you, have you drooling. You have to hold his hand to stop him from touching you again. Michael cutely cocks his head to the side in confusion.
“Can I touch you more?” you ask, adjusting so your dicks are touching one another. Michael nods quickly, like he’s eager for it. You hum, quickly lubing up your hand again, and then slowly you wrap your hand around both his and your dick.
Though it’s muffled by the mask, you can hear Michael gasp at the feeling of your hand on his skin. He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a grunt, squeezing your hand that’s been holding his, hard. You get the message he’s trying to send, and begin stroking the two of you off.
“Has anyone touched you like- nngh- this?” you ask, picking up the pace, because you don’t think either of you will last long. Michael shakes his head no, jerking his hips against yours. His breathing is heavy behind the mask, and every so often you hear a quiet moan or whimper come from him. You feel yourself throb at the fact that Michael is a virgin.
“I wanna- ah- I wanna make you cum Michael,” you tell him, leaning in to kiss his now sweaty chest. Michael arches slightly into your kisses, starved for any touches you give him. “Been such a good boy waiting for permission,” you murmur against his chest. You notice the way his breath hitches when you call him a good boy. Michael’s cock is leaking pre, and with the way he’s jerking into your hand, frotting his dick against yours, you can tell he’s close.
“Cum for me baby boy, cum- oh,” it catches you off guard, because he’s so quiet, but just like that he’s cumming. He again squeezes your hand- and for a brief moment you worry he’s going to break it. He shakes and twitches atop of you, cum shooting from him and dirtying your hand and his chest. You watch spurt after spurt shoot out, and come to the realization that though he may touch himself when watching you, he’s been pent up for a while now.
“Good boy, fuck lookit you,” you groan, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching. You up your pace, working him through his climax while you bring yourself closer with each second. “Michael,” you cum with his name on your lips, as you have so many times before. The difference being that he’s right here with you and not 15ft away, watching through a crack.
You’re still catching your breath when Michael leans his entire weight on you, painfully smushing his plastic mask into your skin. You make a noise of discomfort, but he’s too far gone to do anything.
Once you regain your strength you carefully ease him off of you, and help him get comfortable in the bed next to you. You’re about to go grab a washcloth and a glass of water, but Michael's hand, rough and steady (and a bit moist with lube) around your arm stops you. “I’ll be right back,” you smile, “I promise. Just lay back, I’ll get you cleaned up, baby.”
Michael blinks a few times, still holding you tight in his grip, before letting you go. You fulfill your promise, returning with the items necessary for a decent aftercare.
He’s observing your every move, like if you make a wrong one it’s over for you. Despite his watchful gaze you clean yourself and him up, then offer the glass of water to him. Michael shakes his head and you shrug before gulping it down. Then, you make yourself comfortable in the bed next to him, pulling up the covers.
Though it feels entirely awkward you press a kiss to the cheek of the plastic mask, wrapping an arm around Michael. He snorts, likely amused by your attempt at affection.
“I’m glad you came in this time,” you tell him honestly, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “I’m gonna want to touch you a whole lot more, is that okay? Would you want that?” Michael is nodding before you even fully get the question out. You laugh, delighted by the strange, spontaneous, and exciting turn of events that occurred tonight.
“Okay, we can… talk more in the morning,” you yawn, the adrenaline from getting off with the Michael Myers finally wearing you down.
You turn off your light and pull him a little closer, smiling to yourself when you feel him cuddle up to you. The mask pressed against you is uncomfortable, but you don’t mind it if it means Michael is close to you.
“Goodnight,” you mumble, and receive a hum from him that you could get very used to hearing.