Start of an Unconventional Family (Michael Myers)
RZ!Michael Myers x Fem!Nurse!Reader
Words: 6.8K+
Summary: You are close and strangely soft with the patient Michael Myers. He seems to only really interact with you and seems to feel close with you; at least you think so. But that relationship is broke when you are removed from his care team after Dr. Loomis closes his case on him. You no longer can see him, but it's not like that will stop him from wanting you in ways you secretly dreamed of.
Content/Warning(s): SMUT (MDNI), unethical relationship (nurse/patient), dr. loomis/noel/random dr i made up are dumb and mean lol, Michael speaks but not much, rough sex, choking, biting/marking, PiV, breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), slight size kink, Michael is unhealthily obsessed with reader, reader is more down bad for Michael than she should be.
A/N: I got a request for breeding kink RZ!Myers so here is a breeding kink RZ!Myers fic. The breeding kink isn't overtly stated but I tried integrating it into this story.
Tap, tap, tap.
You type away important information pertaining to Mr. Thompson as per his psychiatrist's orders. Finishing a sentence, you take a moment to massage your temples with your fingers as you look over the patient's chart. Being a nurse for Smith's Grove Sanitarium wasn't your initial choice, but it was one that paid decently enough to keep the lights on at home and had great benefits. The doctors treated you and the others as inferiors and the patients could really make or break the day, but you persevered.
You recognized some here were just deeply troubled and needed someone to listen to them properly. And while a few of the psychiatrists and therapists try, most are here for the money or recognition of working here. The man you work under is one of those. Dr. Daniel Jackson is one of the most egotistical men you've met, convinced that he could crack open Myers despite the many years Loomis put into trying just that. There is a rumor floating around the possibility of Dr. Loomis wanting to stop his work, and you just know Dr. Jackson is chomping at the bit to take over the Myers case.
You glance over at the time and quickly finish up your charting, putting in Mr. Thompson was medication compliant, no longer feeling SI yet still experiences HI and AVH, but is seeing improvements with the new medications given to him. You save everything and click out of his file, pushing away from the nurses station.
It was nearly time to see Michael Myers. You quickly grab a large Rubbermaid tub with the supplies needed for paper mache and drop them off in the usual room Loomis uses to speak with Michael.
It was a few years ago he was added to your rotation. You were a little apprehensive at first, given what happened to a nurse who worked with him before your time here. Outside of him making his masks, he just…lives in his own world. Yet when you took over part of his care he seems to have perked up a little. His change was subtle–almost discernable–but still present when you enter the room. He perks up when you enter his room, he shows you the new masks he makes, and sometimes has you make a mask with him. He seems to respond to you–not always verbally but something about you breaks through his dissociation. And despite the warnings around him, you've developed a bond with Michael. You've tried to explain some of what Michael shows you to Loomis, yet he never believes you.
A part of you feels it teeters on the unprofessional side, but the other part believes you two share a connection. You're not sure how deep it is and you know you shouldn't indulge in any feelings you may feel fester inside you when you're with Michael… but you can't help but be softer with him. Feel something for him you probably shouldn't feel, especially on those late lonely nights you seem to frequently have lately. You definitely shouldn't think about his towering height over you and how his subtle actions towards you and you only really do it for you, but you do. You shove those thoughts and feelings away, yet they are always present.
You meet up with Ismael, giving him a friendly smile until you spot a new guard with him.
“Hey, Ismael, new hire?”
“Yep.Noel Kluggs. Showing him the ropes.” Your friend nods and the three of you start walking down the hall to Michael’s cell.
“So who are you and why does this place have such a hot ass nurse here?” Noel comments with a sleazy grin, making your steps fumble as you look at him with clear disgust on your face.
“Hey, man, not cool.” You’re grateful for Ismael’s quick scolding even if you could easily stand up for yourself against someone like him. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“He’ll be quick to learn to not fuck with me.” You chuckle, which makes Ismael laugh at your comment while Noel looks confused. He doesn’t make any comments further but he does try to put on a ‘macho man’ show towards Ismael.
Ismael opens Michael’s cell and greets him like usual. You were about to say hello like usual but the new guy started making a scene. You roll your eyes and you were about to tell him to knock it off when he goes and touches one of Michael’s. Ismael shouts at him while you reach out and smack the man’s hand.
“Don’t touch his masks.” Ismael warns.
“What the fuck, did you just slap me?” Noel growls and takes a step towards you but the sound of metal scraping stills the three of you. Michael had stood up abruptly and turned to face all of you–everyone’s breaths catch in their throats. You could see Myers’ chest heaving as he loomed over everyone else. You could barely see his face with his mask and hair in the way but you can just barely see his dark eyes focused on Noel, his large hands clenching into tight fists.
“Hey, Mikey… It's alright. We're sorry. He's new.” Ismael speaks softly as he looks up at Michael. He clasped the cuffs around Myers's wrists, the chain dangling between his arms. “I'm sorry about the chains, but we are taking you to see Dr. Loomis.”
“What the fuck are you sorry for? You like this guy?” Noel looks genuinely baffled as he looks between the two of you and Michael.
“It's called having basic decency, Mr. Kluggs. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Mr. Myers here handled. You can wait for us outside.” You let out a little ‘hmph’ and focus on the tallest in the tiny cell. You can see how much he is on edge right now with how tense his posture is. “You ready to go, Michael?”
“I am not leaving you alone with this freak.”
“Wait outside, Noel. Michael wouldn't hurt me.”
“What the-”
“Listen to her.” Ismael grunts, grabbing Noel by the shoulder and guiding him out. He gives you a worried look but obliges. The door isn't closed, but it is still almost daunting being alone with him.
“I'm sorry about what just happened, Michael. He's new and just trying to prove himself.” You murmur as you step up close to him. You never thought much of your height compared to others but whenever you stood near Michael he made you feel so small and you have to cool off any sort of reaction his height brings you. It may be foolish to be so up close to him, but he's never given you a reason not to trust him. “Ready to go? We can make new masks before you and Dr. Loomis have your session.”
Michael’s body seems to slowly relax back into his typical slouched posture. You barely hear the soft grunt from him as he shuffles forward, his eyes now locked on you.
Your smile gently and without touching him, you lead him out of the room. Ismael and Noel looked shocked at the hulking man following you so easily with no restraint and quickly scrambled to stand next to him. Nothing is said until the four of you reach the all too familiar, large room. Michael takes his seat at the table and you gently pat his shoulder and take your spot near him.
“Need anything else, nurse?” Ismael asks as he looks between you and Michael.
“No. Thank you for your help.”
You hear the dual footsteps grow further away until the door opens and closes. You know both of the guards are still outside, but now it is just you and Michael.
You don't say anything as you pop off the lid and set out the sheets of newspaper and various colors of construction paper. You get the necessary ingredients out and mix them for you both. While you can’t heat up the flour and water, it still works for crafts.
“Do you want me to make one with you?”
He lets out a soft noise and pushes some of the paper to you. He immediately starts tearing paper and getting to work and making something. You were slower as paper mache was a new medium to you but Michael’s hands worked fast, the chains connected to his cuffs tinking and shifting with each movement. You ‘tsk’ softly but know the guards wouldn't ever take off his restraints outside his room. You glance up from your own work to observe him.
“How are you doing today, Michael?”
His hands slowly stop his work as he peers up at you through his long hair. He doesn’t say anything and you don't expect him to, but his little responses tell you everything. He gives you a slight shrug and resumes making his mask.
“My neighbors are still being jerks.” You start to talk about your life as you normally do. It seems to be one of the few things that brings Michael out and in the present. “Last night they were so loud in their backyard. I don't know how two people can make so much noise but they do. I've tried telling them I work mostly in the mornings so I need sleep but they don't care.”
Michael grunts as he smooths out some of the wet paper of his mask.
“I made a delicious batch of cookies though, which was great since I usually suck at baking. I'll talk to Dr. Loomis and see if I can’t bring you some tomorrow.”
Again you are met with silence from him but he stops his task for just a moment to briefly look at your face. He stares for a long time before going back to his mask. You don't say anything more as you focus a little too hard on finishing your own art project.
Your mask is a little chopped and not the greatest made thing when you finish. It's lumpy under the red and yellow paper you placed on top of the newspaper yet it still has some charm. You let out a little huff at the sight of the mask Myers made with black as the primary shade with specs of red and blue placed on various places where the cheeks and forehead would be. It looks more smoothed out and less chunky than yours.
“You are too good at that.” You grin as he looks at your face and the mask you made. He slowly slides the mask he made over to you. “For me?”
He grunts again and returns his hands back to in front of him.
“Then, I will give you the one I made. I'll take them to my desk to dry while Dr. Loomis talks with you.” You carefully lift the mask he made into your hands and look it over with a smile. “Thank you.”
Michael leans forward a little, tilting his head back a little so you see more of his eyes and the current mask he is wearing. You blink as he stares and your smile waivers just a little at the intensity. You catch his hand twitching against the table and he moves as close as he can to you. Your breath catches in your throat but you don’t show any fear. It may be foolish not to be scared of a patient known for his random bouts of violence. It may be stupid, too, to reach over and gently place your hand over his.
“You've done good today, Michael.” You nearly whisper and you can feel the nearly indiscernible twitch of his fingers. His hand–much larger than yours–turns and he grips yours firmly. It makes you wince and almost instantly you felt his hand loosen its grasp on yours. You smile softly and squeeze his hand gently and he returns the gesture. You feel him start to pull you close and you swallow thickly.
Before anything else could happen the door opens and in walks Dr. Loomis. You are quick to remove yourself from Michael’s personal space, your heart racing at almost getting caught being so close to a patient. You let out a shaky sigh, giving Michael a reassuring look, before looking at Loomis.
“Ah, making masks again, are we?” The older man asks with a raised brow.
“As always, Dr. Loomis. I'll get the table cleaned up.” You murmur politely, all while Myers still stares at you. You gather up the supplies, place them in the clear tote, and click the lid back in place. You place the masks on top of the box and carefully lift it into your arms before grabbing the small bowl with the water mixture. “I shall stop by your room afterwards, Mr. Myers.”
You can feel Dr. Loomis's stare on both you and Michael as you leave. Ismael thankfully opens the door for you and Noel doesn't say anything. You let out a sigh as you walk to your desk. You set down the container and place the masks down at your desk before taking a seat. You feel almost warm, or lighter, at the subtle progress Michael has made.
You stare at your hand as you recall Michael’s behavior, when Dr. Jackson appears with a stupid smirk on his face.
“Have you heard the news?”
You don't reply to him and just give him a hard look as you stand up.
“Dr. Loomis is closing his work on that freak, Myers. He's going to hand the case to me.” His words make you freeze.
“What?”
“He doesn't think he can learn more or help Myers at this point, so he is giving him to me. And the first thing I implement is removing you from his case.”
“You can't be serious? Michael has shown improvements after he was added to my rotation.”
“Only that you have seen.”
“Ismael has seen it too.”
“Ismael barely knows his right from his left.” Dr. Jackson waves you off. “I don't need you or him meddling with what the patient needs.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Believe it, sweetheart.” He grins and waves as he quickly takes his leave before you can say anything else. You stared at his retreating figure in disbelief. You feel the cold realization that he is limiting your time with Michael and the fact that Loomis won't be his primary psychologist anymore. Change can be life altering for the patients and you worry about Michael’s reaction.
You get through small tasks until the hour is up and Michael would be escorted back to his room, bringing the mask you made along with you. When you approached the room you saw Loomis leave with an almost troubled look before he spots you. Michael is led out by Ismael and Noel and you could see just how tense he is.
Dr. Loomis calls your last name. “May I speak with you?”
“Of course.” You swallow thickly as Michael is led back to his room.
“I have decided to stop working with Michael Myers and have handed my case on him off to Dr. Daniel Jackson.”
“I've heard. He is removing me from Michael’s care team.” Your voice is tense. “I don't think that is a good decision, especially if you're no longer in charge.”
“While I respect your dedication to Michael’s care, I think Dr. Jackson's choice is a valid one. You are in too deep. I've seen the way you've treat him-”
“He responds to me, Dr. Loomis!” You exclaim, cutting him off. You felt your frustration boiling over at how stubborn this man is. “He doesn't speak but he responds with action.”
“And I have yet to witness that.” Dr. Loomis's face turns stern as he looks you over. “I advise you to drop this matter or I will highly recommend to the charge nurse you will need to take some time off and a suggestion that you take courses around the ethics of healthcare as a nurse.”
“Dr. Loomis-”
“I will not hear anything else from you. And I will also advise you not to see Michael out of your own volition either. If Dr. Jackson wants you away from him, then you stay away. Now…Have a good night.” Dr. Loomis gives you a tense nod before walking off, not giving you a chance to speak.
You stand for a few moments in shock. Your frustration and also the sudden sadness you feel brings tears to your eyes, but you try not to cry. Michael has been doing so well. Even if it's small actions, he's been coming out of his dissociation. Your heart clenches at the thought of him as you start to head to your desk, grabbing the mask you made before heading to his cell.
Losing both Loomis and you will certainly shake Michael in some sort of way, and you worry for him. You worry about the care Dr. Jackson will place on him too. You worry Michael is either going to regress back completely into his dissociative shell, or become violent. Your stomach churns at all the possibilities.
You're grateful to see Ismael when you arrive back at Michael's cell. He has a sympathetic look on his face. “Heard the news. I thought you'd want to say goodbye to him.”
“I just hope he'll take the news well.” You murmured before Ismael opened the door for you. You take a deep breath and step inside, Ismael cracking the door so you have some semblance of privacy. You look at Michael as he sits at his desk, slouched and tense.
When your footsteps sound in the cramped room his head perks a little.
“Hello, Michael.” Your voice is a little above a whisper as you greet him. You get yourself to where you are close behind him. You'd stand to his side if there was enough room in his tiny cell.
You're surprised to see him slowly turn in his chair and peer up at you from his spot. Even sitting, he is a hulking man.
“Dr. Jackson and Dr. Loomis told me what's happening.” Your chest feels tighter at what you're about to tell him. Your instincts tell you not to, but you can’t help but squat down and offer your hand to him. You half-expect him not to move, but you give him a small, sad smile when he places his large hand on yours. “And…Dr. Jackson wants to remove me from your care team.”
You feel his grip tighten on your hand as you let out a trembling breath. You don't see his face past his mask but his eyes seem to search your face.
“I tried reasoning with both him and Dr. Loomis, but they feel I am impeding your care. Loomis threatened to have me put on leave. I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but I would hate for you to not know why I won't be present any more.” You feel your eyes sting and the tears you were so desperately trying to hold back fall. You ‘tsk’ at yourself and hastily wipe them away with your free hand. Screw being professional. “It wasn't out of choice. If I wasn't risking my job or license I would choose to stay as your nurse.”
Michael pulls you closer to him, making you stumble and your knees hit the floor. He grunts and his hand is almost painfully tight around yours. His breathing seems to have deepened all while he stares directly at your face.
“I'm truly sorry.” You stand up slowly and try to take steps back but his harsh grip keeps you near. You almost worry–for just a second–but he drops your hand. You can barely force yourself to move away. You know if Loomis or Jackson catches you in here the consequences will be worse.
You leave his cell with a sad look and don't say anything to Ismael. You just head back to your desk at the nurses station to finish the rest of your rounds. Your mood stayed somber and it didn't help that Dr. Jackson would walk past you with a gloating smile.
—
You planned to turn in early when you got home but trashy television was a great distraction. You mess with the bandaids now adorning two of your fingers when you accidentally sliced yourself when you were cooking, the credits playing on the tv screen. You let out a soft sigh and decide to turn off your show and get up from the couch.
You groan as you stand up and stretch. You turn off your lights and pad your way to your bedroom, cursing softly at how the now stretched hems of your sweats catch under your heels. Your bed is a welcoming sight after the day you hand. You close your squeaky door and promptly flop on to your bed. You struggle for a second to get under your plethora of blankets but soon find yourself in a comfortable cocoon of warmth.
You let out a soft sigh as you press your face into your pillow. You close your eyes and try to take deep, slow breaths. You've always struggled falling asleep yet tonight you find yourself drifting off easily.
You're not sure what caused you to stir awake. Was it that your doors squeaked when it opened? Was it the heavy breathing you heard when you arose from your slumber? Or was it the sensation of being watched?
Your brain barely comprehends it as you wake up and sit up. You shiver when your plush blankets fall off you, making the cold air envelop your once warm skin. You rub one of your eyes with the heel of your palm and groggily look over to your door.
Your heart drops into your stomach as your eyes lock on to the masked figure wearing stained, brown coveralls. Your eyes flicker down to his clenched hand and you spot the bloodied knife, and you whimper, scooting back against your wall. The man doesn't move or say anything. He just stares. You stay still as if any sudden movement was going to trigger something, your eyes locked on his form as your muscles tighten in case you need to fight or flee.
The man tilts his head and underneath the neck part of his mask you spot messy, blonde hair peeking out. Your eyes widen as you realize the sheer height and you suddenly recognize the figure.
“Michael?” You whisper, voice unsteady. You can hardly believe yourself but everything about this man points to your former patient. Even the way he tilts his head to the side reminds you of him. “Michael, what are you doing here?”
You don't expect a verbal reply despite your question as you stare at him. You can see his chest rise and fall with a deep breath before he steps closer to your bed. What could you really say or do in this scenario? You and him have a good history, but now that he is apparently does that really matter?
Michael starts to step closer to your bed and you don’t make any more sounds or attempt to move. You swallow thickly when he reaches the side of the bed you’re on. You crane your head up while he looks down at you with a tilt of his head. His hand–not the one gripping the kitchen knife–slowly reaches out and grips your wrist. He lifts your arm and stares at your hand, his thumb sliding up from your wrist to tap against one of the bandaid’s around your pointer finger.
“Accidentally cut myself cooking. I was a little… distracted after everything today.” You murmur and cringe a little at reminding him of early.
Michael grunts and shifts his hand quickly, sliding his palm against yours and intertwining yours and his fingers. You swear your heart is about to slam out of your chest from your nerves. What was he thinking? What does he plan to do? Those are questions that everyone at the Sanitarium asked and you find yourself asking those same questions at this moment. The tall man looks over at your nightstand and sets his knife down slowly.
Your eyes train in on the open wounds on his hand and you look up at him in surprise. They look like scratches and you fear the worst at the thought of where they came from. The blood on his overalls implies what answer you’d get from him if he were to speak.
“Are…Are you alright, Michael?” You’re hesitant to ask but you do so anyways as you look over his hand holding yours.
“Mmm…” Was all he replied with before his other hand moves around your hand and grasps the back of your head. He grips your hair and tilts your head back a little too roughly but it's clear he is holding his strength back. Something about him towering over you with his hands on you both terrifies you yet sends shocks of arousal through you. You want to push those feelings and thoughts away like you did back in the Sanitarium but they persist.
You shouldn’t still be thinking like this about him. He is dangerous…but he has never been threatening with you. He's been soft, you think.
“Michael…” You whimper his name and his hand’s grip tightens.
“You.”
Just one, singular word is all he said before he makes you lay back down on your bed, ripping your blankets away from your body. You let out a soft noise of surprise and before you know it, Michael is shoving his mask up above his nose and sloppily pressing his lips against yours. He still grips your hand tight and presses it against the bed as he crawls on top of you, his leg sliding between yours.
He bites your lips rough and his kiss is uncoordinated, but god is it hot. You're half-tempted to try and push him off. He's your former patient after all and it's all sorts of wrong. And yet, you find your free hand coming up to grip his shoulder. He barely lets up for air before his mouth is attacking yours again. He removes his hand from under your head to grip your jaw, pulling it enough to force your mouth open so his tongue can slip inside. Your mind is overcome with the roaring flames of growing passion that any previous hesitations or guilt have left you.
Michael lets up his kiss to your lips and instead attacks your neck. You whimper out as he roughly bites and sucks at your skin, his hand on your jaw keeping your throat exposed for him. You can feel the old, rubbery mask press against your skin as he bites and sucks at the same spot again and again, likely trying to leave a mark.
“Why are you doing this?” You manage to whisper out to him. You weren't complaining but you were confused in the midst of this shared heat. Michael grunts and slowly pushes himself up. He can’t see you with how his mask is pushed up but you watch him lick at his lips.
“You.” He repeats in his deep, almost hoarse, voice. He presses his knee against your core and you gasp. “Family…wife.”
You don't get a chance to reply, his mouth is back on yours in an instant.
“You are nice.” He grunts against your lips before he bites your bottom one again. You're certain it will be swollen in the morning. “Mine.”
You should feel excited he is speaking and acknowledging you directly, yet all you can focus on is your own growing need as he presses his knee against your pussy through your sweats once more. You let out a breathless moan at the sensation and you feel his hand–fingers still intertwined with yours–squeeze your hand in response and his other squeeze your jaw.
You're completely at his mercy and it thrills you. You can't help but roll your hips to try and get more friction where you need it most. Michael grunts again and pulls his mask up enough to where you can see your eyes. He isn't gentle about getting your clothes off. He nearly rips them from your body and tosses them onto the floor until you're completely exposed to him. His face is blank but his eyes roam over your body possessively.
“We shouldn't be doing this.” You murmur and his eyes snap up to meet yours. You feel his grip on you tighten before you continue to speak. “But, I'm no longer your nurse and clearly you aren't a patient anymore…”
That seems to please Michael. He leans down and nips at your chest before he licks at one of your hard nipples, sucking it into his mouth hungrily. You let out a sharp moan as you feel his teeth bite around the areola as he sucks and licks at the hardened bud. His hand leaves your jaw and he roughly grabs and kneads at your breast, all while keeping his other hand connected with yours. You squirm and roll your hips again, grinding your now bare pussy against his leg. He lets off your breast with a slight pop before he attacks the other one just the same. Your nipples feel tender and are deeper in color, covered in his saliva with his bite marks around each, once he is done with them.
Michael sits up and his hands finally move to grip your legs. His movements are fast as he lays down on his stomach with his head between your thighs, putting your legs over his broad shoulders. You can feel his hot breath on your wet folds and it makes your face flare with heat.
“You don't have-” Your words are cut off by a moan when he licks at your folds. Your noises are soft as his tongue laps up your wetness eagerly. No part of your cunt is left untouched and when he swipes over your clit? You're crying out and arching off your bed. You hear him grunt and his lips suction around your swollen bundle of nerves and focus all his attention and effort into licking and sucking your clit. You choke on a moan as jolts of pleasure and arousal shoot through you. One of his hands leaves your thigh and he maneuvers it underneath himself.
You cry out when two of his thick fingers slide inside you, your slick wetness making it easy for him to start pumping them in and out. He doesn’t start out slow and gentle. His pace is rough as he works you open.
“Curl your fingers a little…Just-Just like that.” You sighed before sharply gasping when he’s brushing against that spongey, sweet spot inside you. Feeling your legs twitch and try to close in around his head and with all the noises you were making has Michael doubling his efforts. You curse and babble and feel the telltale signs of your orgasm rapidly building to the precipice. Your hands move on their own as you attempt to push him off your sensitive pussy but he growls in response, using his free hand to bat away yours. You don’t even get a chance to react to his actions as you tumble over the edge of pleasure faster than you have in a while. Your release hits your hard and fast, and you can practically hear the increased wetness as he still fingers you.
You cry when Michael jerks away and pulls his fingers from your pulsing heat. You lift your head off your pillow and look at him looking at your pussy. His hands move and his thumbs part your folds as he watches your cunt clench around nothing. You feel his hot breath against your flesh and you hear him let out a mix of a grunt and exhale as you come down from your quick high. Slowly he sits up and falls forward, catching himself with his hands as he looks down at you. He pulls down his mask while you reach up with shaky hands.
You cup his face over the mask before dragging your fingers down his neck. You pull at the overalls and he lets you. You can still hear his heavy breaths behind the latex of his mask and you feel your arousal rekindled at the thought of his mouth smeared with your release underneath that mask. Michael sits up a little with you as you push down the coveralls off his shoulders to his waist, leaving just his white shirt covering his chest. Pushing them down a little more, you can clearly see the tent in the dark boxers he has on.
“Want me to pull those down too?”
He grunts once more and he rolls his hips against your touch. You bite your bottom lip to hide your smile as you pull down the fabric constraining his length. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. Michael, for a lack of a better word, is hung. You take a moment to look over what’s going inside you, admiring the deep red tip glistening with his precum. Your gaze trails over a prominent vein along his shaft before looking over the pubic hair at its base. You place your hands under the hem of the white shirt and trail it upwards his stomach. You can feel his thick happy trail leading up to his belly button as you caress over his hot flesh.
“You’re so warm.” You whisper as you pull off his shirt. He goes back to hovering over you with one hand bracing himself by your head and the other gripping your hip firmly. You can feel him tensing under your touch and his length twitches and drips a few small drops of his pre-cum onto your stomach. You can tell he is getting impatient–you’ve seen it plenty of times from him towards the guards and Dr. Loomis. “Do you want to fuck me now?”
The low groan from him tells you his answer.
Michael shifts his hips and he presses his cock against your folds. He grinds against you with a deep sigh and you whimper each time he rubs against your swollen clit. You reach down and gently grasp his flushed cock, guiding him to your entrance. Immediately he pushes his hips forward and you whimper when the thick head of his cock pops inside you.
Much like with his fingers, Michael sinks inside you to the hilt in one thrust. You cry out at the stretch and he doesn’t give you a chance to adjust to his size. He’s already rocking into you with steady movements and you can hear his breaths coming out harshly beneath his mask. You grab at his arms as you try to focus on the pleasure rather than the pain you feel. You watch as he tilts his head down and you just know he is watching himself disappear into your tight heat.
“M-Michael…” You breathe out his name as you try to adjust your legs around his waist. He grunts loudly and tightens his hold on your hip while moving his hand from beside your head to around your throat. His pace starts to quicken as he drives into you again and again until he is practically snapping his hips against you. He leans forward and drapes himself over your body, practically drowning you underneath his impressive frame.
Michael’s mask presses against the side of your head and you can hear his heavy breaths and grunts so much clearer. His hand still grips at your throat enough to make you light-headed in the midst of your pleasure. You shift your hips and the new angle as you squirming against him. He lets go of your hip and slides his arm under your lower back, palming at your ass and keeping your hips angled how you want them. His cock rubs perfectly against that spot as he continues roughly grinding into your heat. Your noises grow louder and you can tell that please him greatly.
“Mine.” His voice is hoarse and muffled against your ear. You grab at what you can, your fingers digging into his skin. His pace is starting to falter and shifts into sloppier movements while you feel the familiar heat growing in your lower belly. Your walls start to clench and tighten around his cock while your breath catches each time he is fully inside you. With the added squeezing from his large hand along with your sensitivity from your previous release you’re at the edge once more.
“I’m s’close again.” You rasped out, gasping slightly for air. You feel his hand lighten up for a moment before squeezing again, making your head spin once more as tingles start to travel up your legs. He’s recklessly rutting into you, his grunts and your moans filling your room.
“Breeding you…family.” He mutters and you barely catch what he says.
You can’t speak. The words are trapped in your throat as you let out hoarse cries of pleasure. In your hazy arousal, you haven’t thought about the fact that he has no condom on or how you’ve been spacing getting your refill for the pill. You feel too good to tell him to pull out…not that you think he would listen to you. In a different setting you would have insisted on some form of birth control, but you didn't and you still don't.
The coiling tension in your lower belly finally breaks and you dissolve into pure pleasure beneath Michaels. You let out a strangled moan as your walls pulse around his cock, pulling him deeper inside you.
You hear a tense groan from him and his hand briefly tightens around your throat. Michael’s hips stutter until he gives you one final, powerful thrust, emptying himself inside you. His dick throbs with each spurt as he fills you full of his cum. You can’t help but moan at the feeling, your walls milking every last drop he gives you. Sweat sticks to both of you as he keeps himself pressed against and in you.
Michael lets go of your throat and pulls his mask up again. His mouth is back on your neck, biting and sucking repeatedly in several spots. He still slowly grinds his hips even as he's softening inside you. You let your legs fall from around his waist as he stills his movements with a soft breath. Giving your skin one last lick, Michael pushes himself up and off your body after fixing his mask. You could faintly see his eyes trail down from your face to where you both were connected.
You were expecting him to pull out. Instead, he removes his arm from underneath you to brace himself as his other hand caresses over your lower belly. Your face flushes at his action and you are reminded he came inside you. That you and him just had sex and you don't feel regretful at all about it. All your schooling and training about ethics in healthcare have gone out the window.
You let out a soft, content sigh and caress his chest and shoulders. “Are you going to stay the night?”
A soft noise comes from him before he lays back down on top of you, pushing his arms under you before rolling you both on your sides. You can feel his coveralls and boxers are still bunched at his thighs but he doesn’t seem to care. Neither do you at this point. You feel boneless and so full right now as he holds you tightly against his frame.
You can’t help but nuzzle against his chest as you relax, trying not to think of all the possible outcomes from what just happened. You don’t think about Michael being out of the Sanitarium and the implications that brings. You try to forget the knife sitting on your nightstand or the few words Michael whispered to you in the heat of the moment.
Instead, you kiss his collarbone and feel him tense against you, his fingers digging into the skin on your back. He shifts his hold and keeps your head pressed against his chest. You can feel his release start to leak around where you both are still connected.
“Mine.” He mutters once more and you feel his touch drag from your back and slip between you both, resting against your stomach once more. “Ours.”
You should refute that and move away, but you don’t. You don’t think you can at this point…not that you want to. Rather, you tiredly nod against his chest at the idea while your exhaustion slowly washes over you again. You try not to fall asleep so quickly but you can’t help it. Strangely enough, you feel safe in his arms.
