Chapter 10
The counter bit hard into my spine; my back arched, pushing my breasts forward and up into the lean muscle of Matt's chest. His hands on my hips tightened, gripping fistfuls of the fabric of my sundress on each side. He bunched the soft floral material in his hands, the fabric pulling taut over my stomach. His mouth was on mine, my hands wrapped around the back of his neck holding him close as our tongues chased each other hungrily. The kiss was sloppy and needy–teeth and tongue and noses bumping together. I moaned into his mouth softly when his hands began to gradually drag my dress up higher, his calloused fingers grazing my flesh as he revealed more of my bare thighs to the chill of my apartment.
"Matt," I gasped out.
He grunted, one hand releasing my dress to grab the underside of my thigh, just below my ass, and heave it up over his waist. My leg curled around him, my hips pushing up into his in this new position. He broke the kiss, his hips rutting into mine with a grunt and I groaned low at the feral, hungry expression on his face. And then his mouth lowered to my jawline, beginning to kiss a wet, sloppy trail down my jaw to my neck. I felt his hand release its hold on my thigh just before he drew it back and slapped it hard across my ass. I cried out, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain as my head fell backwards. But as his hand gripped a fistful of my ass firmly, I realized it wasn't just his hand–it felt harder, more solid, and a little rough.
My eyes opened, my head tilting forward to find the man in black nipping along the skin of my neck with his teeth, his gloved hand kneading my ass under my sundress. The man in the mask sucked a patch of skin on my neck into his mouth, head tilting just enough so that even with his mask on I could tell he was looking back up towards me with a faint smirk on his mostly covered face.
"Fuck," I whimpered at the sight.
My head rolled backwards again, eyes partially closing in pleasure as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen released the skin from his mouth and traveled lower, dragging his tongue towards the bit of cleavage visible in my dress. He bit down hard on the swell of my breast and I hissed in satisfaction under his teeth. A moment later his tongue slid out, gliding slow over the place he'd just bitten. The wet warmth of it raised the hair on my arms and drew a small whine from my throat.
"No one's ever touched you like this?" his gravelly tone asked.
I licked my lips, my head once again rolling forward only to find Daredevil now positioned between my breasts, his hot breath fanning my cleavage as he grinned up towards me. My leg was wrapped around the waist of his deep red and black suit. My hips ground up towards his when his gloved hand squeezed a handful of my ass hard in his grip.
"No," I breathed out.
His attention lowered as one of his hands tossed my dress out of his way while the other slid aside my underwear. One gloved finger slowly ran back and forth between my slick folds as he knelt down before me, my foot returning to the floor. The material of his glove was coarse against such sensitive skin but it still drew a shiver down my spine and a breathy whine from my mouth. My breath came in heavy pants and soft anticipatory whimpers as his finger continued to roam back and forth slowly.
"You can't have both," he growled.
His gloved index finger just barely dipped inside of me and I moaned, my hips jerking forward searching for more. Obligingly he shoved his finger fully inside, the thickness of him with the glove stretching almost painfully.
My hands reached down, grabbing and pawing at the red helmet–one of the horns knicked the palm of my hand in my desperate attempts. My legs were quivering underneath me as he continued to pump his gloved finger into me, his head tilting up towards me when he felt my touch along the mask again. My hand managed to grab the edge of it and slide it off of his head a moment later.
Matt was kneeling below me, disheveled brown hair spilling out as the helmet dropped from my hand. His eyes were staring straight into mine as the covering clattered hard along the solid wood floor. The rest of him was clad in Daredevil's red suit, his gloved finger pumping viciously into me now. His other hand darted up, grasping me by the throat. At first it felt good, his hand lightly tightening as he kept his vigorous pace.
But then Matt's expression darkened to something dangerous. His hand on my throat closed hard, abruptly restricting my airway. He shoved a second gloved finger into me roughly and I choked out a cry. Daredevil Matt rose to his feet slowly, towering over me, his two gloved fingers violently fucking me, slamming my back hard into the island counter of my apartment over and over and over. His hand on my throat pressed harder, pushing me backwards onto my elbows along the cold countertop behind me.
"You can't have both," he growled at me again.
Tears were burning my eyes as he continued relentlessly. I tried to catch a breath, to move, but his grip only tightened.
"Matt," I croaked. "St-op." I choked the word out, a desperate plea. "Hur-ting me," I wheezed.
His gloved fingers inside of me abruptly withdrew, a sharp pain lingering behind. And then slowly he released his hold on my throat, taking a rough step back.
I collapsed to my knees before him, tears pouring down my face. There was blood everywhere–my dress, my knees, my hands, the floor. I cried out, folding in on myself as the puddle of blood on the floor gradually grew underneath me.
"Look what you made me do, Emily!"
The voice was a mixture of Justin's and Matt's and Daredevil's all bleeding together, echoing in my ears.
Screaming, my eyes snapped open and my hands flew up to my throat as I continued to feel the phantom grip of Matt's Daredevil-clad hand choking me from my dream. I thrashed in my sheets, my legs tangling in the dark blue fabric as I cried out over and over in my darkened bedroom.
"Stop! Please stop!" I whimpered.
My breathing was ragged and shallow, my nails biting sharp into my skin, clawing at the ghost of a gloved hand. I couldn't pry it off. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, burning hot trails as they went.
"Stop," I choked out, sobbing into my pillow.
I couldn't shake Justin's words from my mind, either. Or the sight of all that blood. Just like before.
Another strangled cry left my throat remembering Daredevil and Matt as the same person, aggressively violating me as he choked me. The dark look on Matt's face flashed through my mind and my eyes clenched tightly closed as more tears fell down.
A noise from in the hall caught my attention, sending my panic further over the edge. I sat bolt upright, curled into myself along the headboard. The sheets were tangled around my feet, my fingers digging into the flesh of my calves as I held my legs to my body. My heart slammed wildly in my chest as the bedroom door slowly slid open. A muffled whimper fell out of me as the intruder gradually appeared through the threshold.
Daredevil was standing hesitantly in the doorway, his mouth a deep frown. The memory of my dream still fresh in my mind, I drew my legs tighter up to my chest and shook my head roughly back and forth.
"Go away!" I ordered, my voice breaking on the command.
"Emily, it's just me," the deep rumble tried to reassure me.
He took a careful step into the room and I threw a hand out towards him, halting his movement.
"Stay away from me," I begged.
"Emily?"
Hurt laced my name as it came from his mouth. The sound was almost briefly sobering, but my body and my mind were too frenzied to calm down. I couldn’t catch my breath, the image of those same gloved hands choking me and hurting me came back.
“Emily, you’re having a panic attack,” Daredevil tried again, though he remained in place just past the doorway. “I can hear your heart racing and your breathing is irregular. Your temperature and your blood pressure are both rising. You need to calm down. Just breathe.”
I buried my face into my knees, tears still slipping down my cheeks as I choked for air. I couldn’t seem to take a full breath and the ghost of that gloved hand pressing down on my throat hadn't disappeared.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whimpered.
Daredevil inhaled a sharp breath the moment the words left my mouth and the following exhale sounded like he was suppressing his own sob. The noise caught my attention and I focused nervously on him, chin tentatively resting on my knee.
“Em–” his voice broke on my name. I could see his lips pressing tight together in the darkness of my bedroom. “Emily, I would–would never hurt you. You–you know that.”
A soft cry fell out of me as my nails bit through the skin of my calves, still holding them tight to my body. Daredevil lowered to the floor slowly, still not leaving his place by my door, afraid to startle me further.
“Breathe, Emily,” Daredevil told me. He demonstrated a deep breath in and a deep breath out. "I'll stay right here," he said, raising his hands carefully by his head as if to show me he meant no harm. "Take a deep breath, you're okay. I promise you, you're okay."
My jaw clenched and I tried to inhale through my nose, but my lungs still felt like they couldn't even hold half a breath. A shudder ran down my body as I tried again, Daredevil just quietly watching me with his hands still raised.
"Good, keep trying to breathe just like that," he encouraged me.
I tried another careful inhale and then another. I focused on slow, calming breaths for a few minutes, the tightness in my chest easing a little and allowing a bit more air into my lungs. My body was still curled in on itself pressed into my headboard, though. I could feel myself shaking from the aftermath of my panic attack.
"Emily, you–you know I wouldn't ever hurt you, right?" Daredevil asked softly.
"How did you get in here?" I demanded instead of answering.
The masked vigilante sighed, his shoulders slumping down in anguish as he exhaled a rough breath. "I was stopping past your building," he told me quietly, "like I always do at the end of the night now. To make sure your ex isn't bothering you. To make sure you're safe. I was about to go, you sounded…asleep," he continued, voice still strangely gentle for him. "But then I heard your heart beating faster. Heard your breathing change. Something seemed off so I…took a minute to investigate from the fire escape. I could tell you were crying. And then you–you sounded like someone was hurting you when you cried out." His gaze shifted down to my floor. "I didn't detect anyone else in your apartment but I wanted to be sure so I…I broke the lock on your window."
"You broke in?" I breathed out, panic flaring through my chest.
"Were you having a nightmare about…me?" Daredevil asked nervously.
I repeated the deep inhales and exhales through my nose; my breathing began to slow even though it was still a little ragged. I observed Daredevil sitting on my bedroom floor as I continued to focus on calming down. His shoulders had drawn up, tensing into his neck as he awaited my response. His attention was still on my bedroom floor, unable to look at me. He looked as if he was afraid to hear the answer to his question. I had relaxed enough to register the pain in his tone and how his voice cracked on the last word when he'd asked it.
"Yes," I finally whispered.
His lip pulled back as he flinched under his helmet, his head turning further away from me. The more my body relaxed, my fear of him quickly lessened and instead I was becoming increasingly embarrassed at how a dream had me reacting to him like this.
"Emily–I–" he began desperately. "I would never–" he broke off, his voice sounding strained. "Iwould neverhurtyou." His head slowly turned, the red lenses of his helmet flashing in the faint light filtering in from behind my curtains as he looked up at me. "I'm the same guy who walked you home from the bar all those times. The same one that first night we met you spilled your heart to about the photography business you wanted to start. The one you rambled on to about the camera you had been saving up for at your office job you despised." A faint grin spread hesitantly on his lips as his tone somehow softened further. "The same guy you drunkenly shared a burrito with on your rooftop at two in the morning, so concerned that I hadn't had dinner yet."
I bit my lip, smiling slightly as I recalled the burritos I'd drunkenly had delivered to my apartment because I was starving after I had returned home from drinking with my friends. I'd intentionally gone up to my roof hoping he'd show and within fifteen minutes he did.
Sitting cross-legged on the roof of my apartment building, my eyes focused as best as they could with the amount of alcohol I'd consumed onto the brightly lit streets below. I chewed the bite of burrito as my gaze absently tracked a yellow taxi below before it turned a corner and eventually disappeared out of view. A grease-stained brown bag was sitting just beside my left knee, an unnecessarily large cup filled with Dr. Pepper sat before me.
It was a little chilly tonight considering it was nearing late spring, and the cold was only increased by the fact that I was seven floors up and the wind was moving a little faster this high from the street. Though the alcohol in my blood and the burrito in my hand were helping me stay warm.
"Are you eating a…burrito?" a deep voice called out in amusement.
I chewed the bite of food, sluggishly turning over my shoulder and taking in the sight of the man in the mask. He was dressed in all black just like the first night I met him, my eyes lingering longer than normal on the defined abs through his shirt before they trailed up to the lower half of his face visible below the black mask. An amused smirk was stretched across his mouth as he stared down at me.
"Yeah?" I answered. "Is that a crime now?"
He shook his head, laughing gently. My eyes traveled towards his abs, noticing the way they moved as he laughed.
"No, but your apartment is just below us," he pointed out, crossing the distance between us. "Why are you drunk eating a burrito alone on a rooftop?"
"I'm not alone," I told him, taking another bite of burrito and talking around the food in my mouth ungracefully. "You're here."
He chuckled again, lowering to sit himself beside me. "You were alone before I showed up."
I swallowed the bite of food and eyed him, though he was spinning slightly in my vision. "You eat dinner yet, masked man?"
"I've been a little busy, but don't worry about me," he answered with a quirk of his mouth.
I shook my head, grabbing the grease-stained bag and setting it beside him. "Eat."
"I'm not eating your drunk second dinner on you," he teased.
"Drunk Emily overestimated how many burritos she could eat," I told him. "Because two burritos always sound better than one when you've had too many beers. And I would much prefer you not starve."
"Emily, I–"
"Eat the damn burrito, mask," I ordered. "And also help me drink this massive soda." I glanced at him, eyes narrowed curiously. "You do drink soda, right? I mean it's not exactly hydrating but it's soda."
"Yes, but why are you willingly sharing a drink with me?" he asked in curious amusement.
"Unless you're sick or have some sort of disease I need to worry about I think we're good," I blurted. "It's not exactly different than kissing someone."
My eyes went wide and I quickly clamped my mouth around another bite of burrito to shut myself up. He chuckled beside me, the sound causing my cheeks to burn.
"You planning on doing that, too?" he asked coyly.
"Just eat the burrito," I said, swallowing the food in my mouth as I continued, "and help me drink this massive drink. I mean you're supposed to help the people of Hell's Kitchen right? So help me."
He laughed again, undoing his gloves. "That's not exactly what I do, but for you I'll make an exception."
For a few minutes we sat beside each other eating in comfortable silence. Eventually the masked man broke the quiet.
"So why so many beers tonight?" he asked softly.
"Justin," I mumbled, frowning at my almost finished burrito.
The man in the mask stiffened beside me, pausing with the burrito just before his mouth. His head tilted towards me, a slight frown on his face.
"You want to tell me about it?" he asked carefully.
And then he proceeded to listen to me vent about my ex before offering advice. We sat there for over a half hour eating and joking afterwards. It was one of my favorite encounters with him. It was also one of my longest encounters with him at the time.
"I can go," he said softly. "I don't want to scare you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Chewing my bottom lip nervously, I watched him carefully rise to his feet. My nails released their grip on my leg and I gradually slid away from the headboard. Daredevil turned and swiftly headed out of my room.
"Wait," I called out.
I threw my legs over the side of my bed and quickly padded along my bedroom floor after him. I found him halfway down the hallway, his back still towards me as he glanced over his shoulder. His body was still visibly tensed and guarded. I swallowed hard and closed the distance between us, cautiously stepping towards him and wrapping my arms around the front of him just over his stomach. Carefully I drew myself in against him, my head resting cautiously along his armored back, the warmth of him seeping through the material to my right cheek. I felt his muscles gradually become less stiff in my embrace.
"Thank you," I whispered. "I don't…don't know why I had that dream." My eyes tightened further as I felt him continue to relax in my arms. "You're right," I continued softly, "I know you. I know you'd never hurt me. It was just–just a bad dream. Just my anxiety about something else apparently taking a different form this time."
Daredevil carefully shifted, turning in my arms and causing me to lift my head from his back. My eyes curiously searched the red lenses of his mask when they came into view. I still had my arms wrapped around him, but now he was facing me and my hands were clasped around his lower back. One of his hands rose and I flinched as the glove neared my face. He noticed, the hand hovering just over my cheek and the frown deepening on his mouth. Boldly, I released a hand from behind his back and grabbed his wrist, guiding his gloved hand to my face to reassure him and myself that everything was alright. His thumb lightly stroked the skin beneath it, his touch light and gentle. Nothing like in my dream.
"Why me?" I asked him curiously, trying to hold the gaze of his eyes behind the red lenses.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean, why do you make special trips out of Hell's Kitchen just for me? Break into my apartment when I have a panic attack? Walk me home from bars late at night? Share lukewarm burritos with me on rooftops at two in the morning?" I asked, my questions spilling out of my mouth. "Visit me repeatedly for years? Listen to all of my stupid problems? Kiss me like you did? Comfort me like you always do?" I swallowed hard feeling like there was an answer to everything just waiting for me to find. "Whyme?"
His lips pressed firm into a straight line, thinning slightly as they did. I felt him tense again under my arms and his reaction only further peaked my growing curiosity.
“Because you’re my friend,” he answered. “I care about you.”
I shook my head forcefully. “No,” I told him. “No, that can’t be the only reason.”
He made to step back, his hand lowering from my face, but my arms tightened their hold around him and he hesitated.
“Emily,” he said my name like a warning.
My arms remained in place, my gaze still boring up into his red lenses. My mind was racing with so many questions now.
He shook his head firmly. “I can’t,” he answered, voice pained. “Not like this. Not tonight.”
My eyes narrowed immediately as his hands cautiously gripped both of my arms just below the elbow. He carefully pulled out of my embrace, his hold too strong for me to fight but still gentle enough not to alarm me.
“What does that mean?” I pressed.
He only shook his head, taking a few steps back from me. He turned, continuing his way down my hallway silently, making his way back towards my living room. Instantly I darted after him, following his dark form through my apartment. When we reached the main open living space, my eyes briefly caught sight of the island counter and I bit my lip before roughly shaking my head and that stupid dream from it. The sound of my living room window opening caught my attention and I turned, spotting Daredevil climbing out of it.
“If not tonight then when?” I asked after him.
He paused, halfway in and halfway out of the large window, one leg straddling each side of it. His mouth twitched as he stared back at me, the streetlights outside silhouetting him in a wash of yellow from behind.
“Soon,” he reluctantly answered.
And then he ducked his head under the window and slipped his other leg outside. He lowered the window behind him as he stood on the fire escape. The pane closed with a soft thump. I watched as he stood there for a moment, one gloved hand pressed to the glass and a torn look on what I could see of his face. Just watching me. Matt’s face flashed across my mind, refraining me from taking another step closer and forcing me to bury whatever strange feelings were swirling confusingly inside of me.
His hand fell from the glass and he spun, grabbing onto the railing of the fire escape and flinging himself over it. As usual my heart lurched at the sight, but I didn’t race to the window to make sure he was alright. I’d seen Daredevil throw himself around buildings and rooftops, watched him climb fire escapes like a damn spider monkey. I knew he hadn’t just dropped to his death on the pavement below even if my heart jolted as if he had.
For a long while I continued to stare at the place he’d just been standing on my fire escape, my mind racing with questions. What wasn’t he telling me? Why was it that I’d just returned to Hell’s Kitchen after months of having been gone, and suddenly he couldn’t seem to stop following me, even all the way to the Upper West Side? How did he kiss me like he did those two times and then so easily accept me seeing someone else? Even making jokes about it?
Who the fuck was Daredevil?
An absurd, ludicrous, implausible thought whispered through my mind in answer. I quickly waved the idea away–it would’ve been impossible.
But as I headed back towards my bedroom, I couldn’t fully shake the notion from my mind. It lingered there as I crawled back into my sheets, settling in my mind as a persistent possibility as I tried to drift back to sleep.
Brushing the mascara wand over my lashes, I couldn’t shake last night from my mind. I had a six hour wedding I was getting ready for and I was still feeling slightly hungover from the drinking I’d done at Josie’s last night. The entire time since I’d woken up and showered, ate a quick breakfast and began applying makeup, my mind kept drifting back to the bad dream I’d had and the strange encounter with Daredevil in my apartment right after.
Why had I dreamt of Matt like that? Was it my guilty conscience rearing its head? Was it not enough for me to be upset about what happened with Justin and the miscarriage, now my subconscious had to make me feel guilty for my attraction to two different men? Or was it my subconscious developing the messed up theory I’d been focused on since last night? The one I was finding impossible to believe?
My phone vibrated along the bathroom counter and I startled, the mascara wand darting away from my face. I glanced down at the screen and saw Matt was calling. My stomach churned nervously. He knew I had a wedding late this morning, normally he only sent me a text telling me to have a good day. Why the sudden phone call?
I closed up my mascara before grabbing the phone, sliding the button on the screen and answering the call.
“Hey, what’s up, Matt?” I asked curiously.
“Just called to see how you are this morning and tell you that I hope your wedding goes well today,” he answered slowly, sounding a little unsure. “Should I…not have?”
“No,” I answered him quickly. “You just normally always text. I wondered if something was wrong.”
“I wanted to hear your beautiful voice,” he told me. “I missed you. And like I said, I just wanted to see how you were.”
“You just saw me,” I teased him lightly.
“Uh–I–” he stammered.
“At Josie’s?” I clarified slowly. “Last night?”
“Right, yeah,” he replied immediately. “That was still too long ago. And I wanted to make sure you were doing alright after–after how much you drank.”
I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. Why did he sound off?
“Are you okay, Matt?” I questioned him cautiously.
“Yeah, I’m good, sweetheart,” he answered quickly. “Like I said I just missed your voice and wanted to tell you to have a good day. Thankfully it’s a shorter wedding today, right? I know you were looking forward to that after last weekend.”
I sighed, one hand beginning to gather up my makeup and putting it away. “Definitely. Pretty sure my feet hate me.”
He chuckled slightly over the phone. “Well I’ll let you finish getting ready, just wanted to check in. Maybe sometime this week we can spend a morning working at Mad Goat?” he asked hopefully.
I grinned. “Yeah, that sounds good,” I told him.
“Good, I’ll be looking forward to it. Have a good day, sweetheart,” he said, a smile apparent in his voice. “Fingers crossed your feet don’t bleed tonight.”
I laughed in response, shaking my head. “You and me both. I’ll talk to you later, Matty.”
“Bye, Em.”
I hung up the phone, still smiling as I set it on the bathroom counter. I went back to collecting my makeup, gathering the lipstick and mascara and concealer bottles still on the counter. But I paused after a moment, my eyes slowly returning to my phone.
The thoughts from last night resurfaced as I stared at it. Why had he sounded like that on the phone? And why did he call when he’s always texted me before a wedding? Why was he wondering how I was this morning just from a night drinking? Could it be…?
No, that was ridiculous. There was no way Matthew Murdock–sweet, overly compassionate, sensitive, and blind–was Daredevil. That would be impossible.
…right?