And, After All, Divinity
Normally, when you ran through city streets in the dark of the night, you wore a mask, gripping weaponry tight between your fingers.
This time, you wore no mask. What you held could be considered a weapon in some contexts - but here, tonight, all it was to you was gold.
After turning a block, you’d paused to tug off your heels, holding them in your free hand as you and Matt resumed your daring escape. It didn’t matter that he held no cane, that your face remained open to the world; all that mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you. It didn’t even matter that you felt the grit of concrete on your feet, the splash of a puddle every few steps. You were laughing and blithe, free in the wind and the rain, with Matt at your side.
The sound of sirens cried out from ahead, and you slowed, biting your lip. Matt turned to you, puzzled at why you’d paused - just in time for you to yank him to the side. His eyes went wide as you dragged him into an alley, pressing him against the outer brick wall of some random building in shadow, your head tilted on alert toward the road.
“Sweetheart?” Matt heaved, somewhat out of breath. His chest rose and fell between your hands where they held his shoulders, his clothes damp with rain, your heels bumping his arm where they hung from one hand. You looked up to see a few stray locks of rain-wet hair having fallen loosely across his forehead, his lips parted and glazed.
“You don’t have your cane,” you managed in a low breath. “Can’t give them any hints.”
Matt considered for a moment. His brow twitched, and in one swift movement, he lifted his hands to your hips, spinning you so that your back was to the wall instead of his. The brick was cold, damp on your wet back and rough on your skin where the two surfaces touched. You sucked in a breath, and Matt dipped his head closer, lips smirking, voice hoarse.
“They’re not looking.”
The cop car whizzed past the alley and continued on its hurtling path through the city streets. Its sirens grew fuzzy in your ears as your focus was drawn entirely to Matt, rain dripping down the slope of his skin, making his white shirt cling to his chest, his tie hanging loose. His hands slid up to tighten at your waist, and he dipped his head closer to yours - but you pressed your fingertips to his chin, stopping him before he closed the distance.
“We’re almost at your place, aren’t we?” You whispered. Matt stilled, lips ajar and wet from both the rain and a drag of his tongue.
“Almost,” he managed roughly, repeating himself as if commenting on something else that was so close, yet so far. “Almost.”
“Almost,” you repeated, pressing him gently back. Matt’s brow lifted, and he smirked down at you, stepping back like your gentle push had told him. With his grip leaving your waist, you leaned down and slipped your wet feet back into your just-as-wet heels. Standing tall again, you drew Matt’s hand back into yours and led him out of the alley.
Done with running, as you were just a few buildings away from Matt’s apartment, the two of you strode side by side in the rain, fingers interlocked. You noted the few other people on the sidewalk at this hour, moving toward their destinations at varying speeds - most of them faster than you. Your head lifted to watch the rain as it steadily fell, cool and hissing where it landed along your bare skin. You felt your hair at your back, wet and tangled with rainwater, and turned your head to glance at Matt’s, all elegantly disheveled by the rain. You smiled at him, and he smiled in return, squeezing your hand.
The two of you reached the front door of his building, and he moved to approach the entrance - but you remained locked where you stood, your grip stopping Matt from moving any further. He turned back to you, tilting his head in confusion, and you jerked your head toward the back of his building.
“This way,” you whispered, pulling Matt along in your path down the side of the building. Matt obliged but remained somewhat puzzled, though mildly entertained.
“You know we can use the front door, right?”
“You don’t have your cane,” you repeated. “Can’t give them any hints, like I said.”
Matt snorted. “And who’s them? No one’s watching.”
As you turned the corner to meet the very back of Matt’s building, you tipped your head back to look at him, mischief glinting in your eyes. “Better safe than sorry.”
Matt gave a low chuckle and shook his head as you led him toward the fire escape.
“Besides,” you continued, turning to face him and walking back toward the first level of rungs. “We’ve been up my fire escape together. Haven’t done yours yet.”
As his lips quirked out to the side, Matt snorted. “Didn’t know climbing each other’s fire escapes was a milestone.”
You shrugged. “With our lives, maybe it is. Just consider it another secret to be shared.”
“Another secret?”
“You said you needed more of them,” you offered, stopping right in front of the rungs. You lifted your free hand to grip one, the cool metal slick in the rain, and turned your focus back to Matt. “This counts as something of yours I don’t yet know.”
Matt took a step toward you, then another, before lifting his free hand to place it on the same rung as yours. At the sight of his grip, strong fingers wrapped tight against the metal, raindrops tracing down the veins in his hand to tuck under his blazer - your breath hitched. Matt smirked at you, his wet skin glistening in the dark.
“And I’m guessing you want to go up first?”
“Well, it’s the obvious choice,” you stated matter-of-factly, steady over the sound of falling rain. “I mean, I’m in heels. If I fall, you catch me.” You paused, chewing at the inside of your cheek, your eyes drifting again to Matt’s shirt as it clung to his thickly carved chest. “Or you just make sure I stay steady the whole way up.”
Matt’s lips twisted in a teasing grin in the dark. He nodded and pursed them, leaning his body closer to yours.
“Good point,” he purred, nodding toward the fire escape. “Go ahead, then.”
You nodded back at him, satisfied in your rightness, and drew your hand out of his grasp to place it on the next rung. You lifted one foot onto the third rung from the ground and, with a breath sucked deep into your lungs, hoisted yourself up.
Matt’s hands immediately grazed your thighs, pressing against you gently. You felt your face grow hot.
“What do you think you’re doing?” You lilted, turning your face down in mock shock to look at Matt. He stood behind and below you, his head inches from your hip, hands remaining squarely on the outside of your thighs. You couldn’t ignore the way his thumbs stroked along silk where the fabric had become collected in his grip.
“Just keeping you steady, like you suggested,” he drawled self-assuredly out of a lazy grin. You cocked a brow, turning back to the ladder before you.
“Sure you are, Matt.”
Matt’s chuckle was light from below as you pulled yourself further up the ladder, your legs slipping up and out of his grasp. Before long, you were climbing it expertly, even in heels, with Matt not far behind. You moved swiftly onto the stairs-esque section and climbed up them with ease, glancing down with a grin to see Matt finally reach that section himself and follow you with gaining speed. Adrenaline roared in your limbs, and you moved faster, skipping steps and swinging from level to level until, nearly out of breath, you finally reached the last set of rungs that would draw you up and onto the roof. You scaled this ladder and didn’t dare to look back to catch Matt’s location lest he somehow slow you down.
Stepping over the edge of the building, your shoes landed on rain-soaked, gravel-coated concrete with a crunch, and your eyes went wide. The view before you was sparkling, winking bright light and nighttime shadow your way - just as it had the night Matt had stopped you from going out stupidly and hot-headedly into the dark, where you chased the sort of rageful justice that would have only brought you more suffering.
The rain, though, seemed to change the skyline’s feel.
On this night, the city glow was both subdued and somehow brighter as water fell upon it from above. It was delicate but strengthened, soaked through but stable - elegant and common at the same time. The buildings from both above and below glinted light through the dark, streaks of water streaming down their glass panes and dark exteriors, and drivers whirred through the streets below where they could, desperate to get home safe and sound.
Or, perhaps, they just liked the adrenaline of speeding through a storm.
A subtle breeze floated past the rain and through your dripping hair; nothing as strong as that rageful night, something softer. You sucked it in and held the cool feeling tight within your lungs. Another calming cool had slicked your face in a similar way, and you lifted your hands to swipe them over your cheeks, hoping to smear off any stray makeup that the rain had melted out of place. Silk clung to your skin, sticking tight to every inch it touched, and though your hair was tangled from running, climbing, growing soaked as you lost your breath, you didn’t bother to fix it. The smile playing on your lips felt enough like perfection for you to need to fix yourself in any other way.
You tasted rainwater on those lips and savored it. The smell of the rain, even from up high, from up here - it was soothing, pure, as calming an ambiance as the crash of drops all around you.
I wonder if he likes it as much as I do.
You heard a heaving breath and spun back around to the ladder. Matt’s hands gripped the top metal bars, and you watched as he heaved himself up and onto the roof, every inch of his perfect suit damp with rain, damper still as fresh drops continued to ravage the fabric. His shoes - even shinier now that they were coated in raindrops - landed on that same puddled gravel that yours had. The drops running down his face reminded you of how your skin carried the same streams, the very same sort of mess that was not so much messy as it was exhilarating, beautiful, free.
“What was that?” Matt managed, catching his breath, his chest expanding and contracting as he worked a furrowed brow your way. “Some sort of race?”
Admiring how Matt had lightly worn himself out, you smiled coyly from where you stood - you, at the center of his rooftop, and he, just at the edge. Matt’s lungs caught up with him faster than it seemed they would, and he smiled back, taking a slow step in your direction.
“Well, if you counted it as some sort of may-the-best-vigilante-win scenario,” you began, holding your ground as he approached, “I’d say it was at least accurate.”
Matt blew out a sharp breath through pursed lips just as he reached you.
“Careful,” he hummed, low and threatening. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?”
You looked up into his crimson glasses and watched his brows flicker as his lips curved. And, sure, he’d taken your breath away before, but it was more than under your control now.
Especially since you knew the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen; the Man in Black; Matt Murdock, Attorney at Law - it didn’t matter the name. You knew him, and you were far from afraid of challenging a man you knew.
Far from afraid, still, of knowing more.
“Oh, I certainly do, sweetheart,” you purred, taking his nickname for you into your own hands. Matt’s brow flicked up, and although his smirking lips kept their shape, they parted slightly, open to your taunt. You grinned at the way his jaw tensed. You grinned, still, at the blush beneath Matt’s stubble, and leaned your head in near his ear as you moved to step around him. Each word hit his skin in a manner too hot to be cooled by the rain, yet he shivered as you spoke.
“Do you?”
Now standing at his side, you watched Matt tip his head up, his jaw jutting out. A dimple formed in his cheek and he pressed over his lower lip with his tongue, the movement strung with tension. Your smile settled into something simpler, and you kept on with your stride, stepping around Matt’s back to his other side.
Your heels crunched lightly over gravel with each step you took further from Matt, as your eyes had caught once more on the city before you in all its drenched yet never-sleeping glory. It wasn’t just because of its beauty, though.
Well, it was. But it wasn’t just that.
You sighed to yourself, and your brows drew together. The surface of your eyes felt glassy as they surveyed the view, with nothing of this sensation to do with the rain that coated your eyelashes.
“It’s so pretty up here,” you half-whispered. The statement was so soft that it would have been entirely to yourself if Matt didn’t have the abilities he had. “I wish you could see it.”
Where you stood, you couldn’t see Matt - couldn’t see his reaction, if he had one. A few steps ahead, you should have been out of the loop. Still, though, you managed to hear him let out a calm breath, managed to feel him through the rain.
“I can,” Matt offered kindly, quietly. “If you describe it to me.”
Your brows lifted, breath caught. “Like… like with the dresses?” You asked, a flutter of hope alight in your chest that your words earlier had done some sort of good. Turning your head back gave you the sight of Matt again - a thoughtful, kind look on his face, his smile as soft as his voice with each word.
“Exactly like that.”
Your lips pressed together in a tight smile, cheeks dimpling, eyes crinkling of their own volition. You were just glad you’d been able to do something kind for Matt - something that he appreciated or enjoyed, even.
You wanted nothing less than to do it again.
So, tentatively, you glanced back out to the city before you with a bite at your lip. Wet, dripping tangles of hair dragged over your back and shoulders as you turned back to Matt, who waited patiently while you worked out how to word the vision before you in just the perfect way.
Tipping your head back, you gave a glance to the sky above through quick-blinking eyes. The raindrops that managed past your blinks made you blink harder, but you still caught sight of this sky coated in dark clouds - save for a few spare cracks through which stars and the moon could shine. And that brought you, finally, an idea.
Let’s hope this is good enough.
In…
Out…
And…
Showtime.
“When you were a kid, before… everything,” you began, tipping your focus back to Matt, “did you ever see a perfect night sky? Without all the light pollution?”
Matt nodded. “Long time ago. Elementary school field trips - wilderness stuff, that sort of thing.” His lips curved out halfway in an almost reflective, nostalgic manner, missing a memory from its permanent place in the past. “It’s a beautiful sight.”
“Yeah, well, this looks nothing like that,” you joked, a part of you less than light at that wistful expression crossing Matt’s face. He snorted, and you grinned, holding your hands out as if in a plea for him to bear with you. “But it kind of does, if you think about it.”
Matt raised his brows, and you whipped your head toward the skyline, stretching a hand out through the rain to wave toward this makeshift night sky you were attempting to describe.
And, as if this enthusiasm was all you needed, leftover adrenaline sparking inside you, the words simply flowed.
“I mean, you look down, and all you see are lights. Like stars - like every block is its own constellation. Office buildings with late night workers keeping their desk lamps on, apartment buildings with families saying goodnight to one another as their lights flash off, a candle flickering in a chapel window, storefronts and streetlights.”
You glanced back at Matt with passion glinting in your eyes, audible in your slightly lifted voice, your volume and tone higher with the wonder carried by your words. Matt’s half smile had remained, and though he was undoubtedly amused, there was something of wonder in his expression, too.
“Some of those stars, if you will, are dimmer, more constant,” you continued, turning back to face your side of the skyline, though it still stretched out behind Matt where he stood. A few slow steps carried you closer to the rooftop’s edge, and you heard Matt’s shoes crunch over gravel behind you in the same pattern. “Others are vibrant and alive, glittering for the short time that they shine. And they’re all different colors, shapes, sizes. The headlights on a speeding car - the lights on a motorcycle,” you grinned back at him, pointing down at the road, “those are the shooting stars.”
Matt nodded back at you with his own grin. You tugged at your lip, eyes sparkling at him in the dark, and your voice went softer. You turned back to face the city once more and twisted your hands together.
“And it all depends, too, on what we consider to be light. I mean, a little girl giving her friend a gift, a mother sharing a meal with her children, a grandfather hugging his grandkids like they’re the light of his life - all those, you could think of as stars in their own right.” You sucked in a breath. “And, of course, there’s still light pollution of a sort. I mean, all the corruption and ugly condos always seem to be spreading their smog through the air,” you half-laughed, “but if you can look past that ugliness, the city is kind of a perfect night sky.”
Turning back, you saw that although you’d grown closer to the edge, Matt had followed - just a few feet behind you where he stood closer to the roof’s center. His smile was warm, and he opened his mouth to speak, but you swiftly lifted a hand to stop him.
Almost done.
“Even then, though - I think it’s even more beautiful with all the ugly parts. With the imperfections.” Clenching your teeth for all sorts of reasons, any number of feelings, you turned your gaze back to this starlight skyline and let the tension in your jaw release. Every word that fell from your lips was a breathy affirmation, strong in its quiet.
“That ugliness makes the beauty all the more… formidable. Shows the stars are all still there - as if to spite the darkness.”
As the rain continued to splash down over the rooftop, run down your bare, prickled arms and the silk of your dress, you breathed every inch of it in. You were only partially satisfied, though. You turned back to face your audience - the man who stood behind you, his mouth thoughtfully ajar, the curves and carvings of his face dripping in not only rain but what you could only describe as awe.
And then, as if that sight wasn’t butterfly-inducing enough, Matt’s rain-coated lips pulled into a soft, beautifully open smile.
“That was probably the kindest description of this city I’ve ever heard.” Matt shook his head, his tone as breathy as it was full of rasp. “Thank you.”
Your grin of relieved, full satisfaction was impossible to stamp down - but you shrugged. “I was pretty generous. Did leave out the rats and the garbage.”
He snorted, grinning back before pursing his lips, shaking his head at you. “Can’t forget the rats and the trash. Crucial part of New York.”
“I was using artistic license.”
“You know, now that I think about it,” Matt continued, his mouth pressed into a thin line, “you could have stuck to ignoring rats and garbage. I didn’t need to remember what those look like.”
“My bad. Had it all romanticized for you, and now I’m running my mouth, ruining the romance.”
Though the tone was lighter now, Matt shook his head in sincerity.
“You didn’t ruin it,” he breathed without missing a beat. “You couldn’t possibly ruin it.”
Birthed at the base of your spine, a shudder wound up through your back in a twisting buzz. Matt’s head tilted slightly, and you watched as his wet hair remained slicked over his head, dark and dripping. A flicker of that familiar regret lit up your chest, but you stamped it down. Rain might not tend to reach such a thing, but this rain - this rain might just have a chance.
You glanced back toward the city glowing around you before directing your attention again toward Matt.
“Did you have fun at the gala?”
He nodded, speaking softly. “I did. I had a lovely time.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Matt’s step toward you in the dark sent another shudder through your body - and that had nothing on the words that came after. “I particularly liked being there with you.”
Buzzing. Your skin was buzzing, insides were buzzing, heart was picking up its pace.
Still, you nodded as any lady would and returned the compliment with poise - even as vibrant, girlish energy bubbled beneath that calm surface.
“I will also say that you’re the best date I have ever taken to that gala.”
“I’m the only date you’ve ever taken to that gala,” Matt deadpanned.
You narrowed your eyes. “And that counts for something, does it not?”
Matt’s lips quirked out to the side, and, with another step in your direction, he shrugged. His tone now carried a gravelly rasp that ignited your senses unlike anything else. “I guess so.”
Heat simmered in your chest. Where Matt stood, still so close to the center of the rooftop - he suddenly felt miles away. Too far, to say the least. Your feet took you a step closer to him this time, and as his hands lightly tensed and released, the skin of his chest almost visible with how soaked his shirt had become, your breath hitched. Paying such close attention to Matt’s chest, you could have sworn you saw his breathing do the same.
So, you mustered the courage - and asked the sort of question that would have sent you sprinting just a few months before.
“Would you want to go to another one, with me?”
Matt knew what you were getting at. He had to know. But, perhaps he didn’t quite get it, as he played clueless - although, he did hesitate a second before giving you his near-blank response with a head tilt to match. “Is there another one coming up?”
Or… maybe he thinks it’s… too good to be true?
Come on. Talk about a cocky thing for me to think.
But - maybe.
Whatever.
One way to find out.
“I mean, no,” you chuckled awkwardly, fighting off a catch in your breath, a twitch in your lungs, “but - if the opportunity arose, going with me, as my date - is that something you’d want?”
And there it was.
The switch was so subtle. So subtle, and yet so obvious. Matt’s head tilted back up straight before tipping to the other side, his questioning mouth now hitting a light angle once more, the furrow of his brow less unsure and entirely focused.
Because with that sort of question, with what you asked this time - it was not too good to be true. It was simply good and true, the best combination of possibility that either of you could have hoped for.
Matt now took another step toward you on steady, strong legs. The curve of his lips was all tease and somehow still genuine, and his voice carried every square inch of grit and smoking flirtation that you thought it ever had.
“That wouldn’t create a very… professional, or friendly, dynamic, going to multiple events together as each other’s dates.”
With him closer to you now, only a bit over a foot away, you struggled to manage even a simple breath - but you kept your voice steady, low. Even so, you knew he could hear past the lilt in your tone to catch the spiking, honest pound of your tellingly fluttering heart.
“Well, then, good thing we’re not just professional partners.”
Matt nodded, tongue tasting the edge of his lower lip as his words rumbled out low.
“Good thing we’re not just friends.”
The rain around you sizzled as it hit the ground - or it at least seemed to, what with all the heat crowding the edges of your mind. Your eyes trailed over Matt’s expression: his deep brow, chiseled features, shining lips. His hair looked slick and soft, and his clothes clung to his perfect body under the weight of water and with all the precision of a damn factory-made doll.
Perfect. Matt was perfect, looked perfect, treated you perfectly, protected you at every turn of risk or misadventure - he was perfect.
And you were so close, so heart-wrenchingly close, to having… what it was that you craved.
There wasn’t much you got to claim and keep close in your life. You drifted, and you were drifted from, and those loves and losses had left you with a level of fear that was often difficult or impossible to ignore, to escape. Most of the time, that fear - smart as it was - wrapped your hands in tight chains, dragging you back into solitude once more before you could get your grasp on whatever it was that you wanted.
But those chains?
Those chains, you… maybe, just maybe… had broken them.
As much as you flexed and stretched your tight hands, cramped from years of being clamped shut, those chains were nowhere to be found. And there was risk, of course there was risk, but you knew this. Matt knew this.
And, better yet, frighteningly so - he didn’t care.
Better still, he was ready for whatever might come. So, with a chest tight in tension and fear and desire you couldn’t ignore, you felt your hands rest free at your sides.
Whatever lay before you was yours for the taking -
- so long as it wished to be taken.
“Matt… that night, a while ago,” you began, less unsteady than distracted by Matt’s unshakable focus on you, “…it’s been a while now since you first said that to me.”
His brows drew together. “Since I said… what?”
“That you didn’t want to just be friends.”
As quick as it had furrowed, his brow lifted and fell once more. Your breaths had become shallower, and with every last drop of might inside you, you stepped toward him, cutting through the fall of glittering, unstoppable rain. Eyes open and probing, searching, hungrier than you’d intended, you reached Matt where he stood. Your lips were parted, patient, painfully waiting.
“So, if that’s true,” you breathed, “what do you want to be?”
Matt’s jaw clenched lightly, the only brief reprieve before his words sent you into the sky, sent your heartbeat into oblivion.
“Yours,” Matt affirmed, painted in grit, soaking in smoke. “I want to be yours, if you’ll have me.”
The earth split and swallowed you whole. Still, past a lick at your lips and a tight breath, your eyes narrowed in tease.
“That’s all?”
Matt’s jaw shifted, the corner of his lips twitching up.
“And I want you to be mine.”
If his first desire sent you to the center of the earth, this one drowned you beneath sputtering lava, melting every cell of your body, every wisp of the spirit within you, until you were nothing but red-hot remnants of whatever entity you might have been before this moment.
You didn’t need words to express it to Matt, not really. The very second that desire left his lips, you were his.
“But what I want most is to give you what you want,” he continued, something softer lacing through his voice. You only gazed up at him, wanting and sure. “So-“
“I want you to be mine,” you affirmed, tone clear and coiling over him like the curls of heat between your hips. The reaction was visible - Matt’s jaw tensed and relaxed, some shade of midnight fluttering through his eyes, his brows still tense but in a different, nearly disbelieving way. You let your tone soften and felt your skin blush. “And I want to be yours, too.”
No sooner did you finish your words did Matt inch himself closer to you. If you didn’t need words before, it was now as if you didn’t have them, couldn’t find a single separate strand of thought if you tried - aside from, of course, the man standing a hair’s breadth in front of you.
You could feel his heat despite the cool rain, could smell the cinnamon, the pine, the incense on his skin. Matt’s head tilted slightly, a low breath leaving him, his focus as sharp as if he was some predator on the hunt, every movement measured with careful calculations of just how far to go. And his voice, the captor of all your attention, was breathily, hauntingly low.
“That’s all?“
His tone, his words, his implications - it all caught your breath between strong jaws and held tight. That tightness thickened in the depths of your core, hot and sputtering, spinning through you as if nothing could calm it.
Nothing, except for him.
“If you can’t tell me what you want,” Matt breathed, something in his voice heated, dark, almost desperate with its grit, “show me.”
And that request, that plea - that sent your gaze sharp and hazy at the same time, sent your heart seconds closer to collapse, sent the heat within you twitching and burning and throbbing with what you’d been pushing away for so very long.
No words.
No thoughts.
It was a fleeting moment, little more than the time of a shallow breath, a shaky pass of your tongue along your lips - though it felt like an eternity of staring past his darkened glasses, an eternity of raindrops falling through you and Matt as the city skyline watched on.
Your pause was hardly one of hesitation. It was the absorption of everything you could feel in the moment; the water soaking through your hair, the wisp of silk against your legs in the quiet night breeze, and, above all, Matt, standing before you.
And, in this moment, you realized that all you could hear was the sound of his breath, the echo of his gritty voice.
Show me.
All you could see was the glow of his eyes behind his glasses, the twirls of his rain-drenched hair, the part of his lips as they moved, wet with rain, glistening with promise.
Show me.
All you could feel was his warmth. Not even your soaked dress, his sopping-wet suit - nothing could stop it from unfurling toward you under this midnight sky, perfect and promising and aching to be taken.
And so you reached forward as if possessed, your hands moving of their own volition to land at either side of his neck, thumbs sweeping down each edge of his jaw.
No thoughts.
No words.
None needed.
Matt leaned in with your grasp on him, and another quiet pause came just as your lips were less than an inch apart, your breaths mingling in their heat in spite of the rain and all its cool. Your breathing stuttered, heart slamming against your ribs in a hungry, desirous anticipation that you simply couldn’t ignore for any longer.
This is it.
With your fingers splayed over Matt’s dripping, stubbled skin, you took one final breath of that moment, the split second before this hallowed line was irretrievably crossed - and every cell in your body electrified as you finally pressed your lips to his.
Fire roared inside you as you kissed Matt, hard. He seemed caught aback by the fierceness of it, but only for a millisecond. His hands lifted to cradle your jaw, slip over your rain-wet skin, as he kissed you back with just as much intensity. One of those hands lifted up into your tangled, wet hair, tugging lightly in his soft exploration. The other hand tucked loose strands behind your ear before slipping down to grasp the side of your neck, holding you relentlessly to him.
His lips were just as soft on yours as you’d thought they might be. The way he leaned into you with all of him - it felt as though every inch of his body was there just for you, callous and muscle and soft skin, yours for the taking. With your brow lightly furrowed, you shifted your lips for another kiss, just as hard. Matt’s lips moved almost harshly with yours, flawlessly in sync as he held you close in the rain.
And it was your choice - no one else’s.
It wasn’t a decision you made out of necessity, fight, or fear.
It was entirely yours - and his - in every way that mattered.
At long last, after what felt like a blissful eternity and then some, you let your lips part from Matt’s. You held each other just as close, hands gripping wet skin with hot desperation as raindrops poured down around you. Matt’s hand on your neck gentled, slipping down until his fingertips rested beneath your jaw, his thumb grazing the front of your throat. Your foreheads pressed together, rainwater dripping down each of your faces as you managed a sharp whisper in spite of your pounding heart.
“That’s what I want-“
Matt pressed another hot, aching kiss into your lips, cleanly interrupting you. You gave up the statement entirely and let his mouth take you in as it moved against yours. That hand, once tangled in your hair, gripping against the base of your skull - that hand moved down your neck, his fingers tasting every part of you they dragged over. They slipped over your collarbone, your shoulder, before jumping to your waist. His hold was tight, hardy, and he tugged you closer, that hot hand branding into your skin through the dress as his other hand gripped just as desperately onto your neck.
You sighed against Matt’s lips and obliged to his hold on you, dragging one of your hands up the back of his head. The edges of your nails grazed his scalp as your fingertips raked roughly through his hair. He let out a sigh of his own, pressing your body firmly into his. Matt’s tongue darted over your lower lip, hot and gentle and in nothing but an offer, an invitation. It left a tingling sensation on your skin, your core roiling - and you parted your lips further, deepening the kiss as you both so wanted.
You could feel, rather than just hear, the light groan from Matt as his tongue passed over yours. With one hand in his hair, your other hand drifted down to grip his shoulder, as if that could tug him closer to you than he already was. His chest pressed down into you, the shadow of his broad shoulders enveloping your body. As his mouth moved against yours, he let his other hand fall to your waist with just as much pressure as the other. His grip on you was viselike as his palms pressed into your body, fingers splaying across your back, so hot you were almost surprised that the raindrops didn’t hiss as they hit the two of you.
One of his hands dragged over to the small of your back and up your spine. You shivered at his touch as his hand slid up further, leaving the silk of your dress to meet the bare skin of your upper back before gripping entirely onto the back of your neck. Matt’s other hand slid to grab at your hip, tugging it against him, and you sighed again into his kiss at his craving, wanton hold on you.
Rain pounded down around the two of you, splashing over rooftops and down into the city streets. Midnight light stretched out from every edge of the horizon; soft, hazy, and so far from your focus, it was as if it wasn’t even there.
It was just you and Matt at the top of the city, beneath nothing but the sky, its storm, and its stars. In so many senses, it was as if the two of you were your very own glittering constellation, linked together in light and dark alike.
Matt’s kiss against you softened, and you responded in the same way, gentling the movements of your lips as they slowed - the kiss shifting from hard, aching, craving, to something more delicately crafted. That hand gripping the back of your neck released its tension, sliding down to palm between your shoulders. Your lips parted once more and rainwater dripped down and over them, the taste of Matt mingling with the taste of the night sky across your lips and your tongue.
Your eyes lifted to Matt’s glasses in the dark. Those red lenses were tainted with droplets of water, but you saw right through them - saw his eyes, open and wanting and somehow content. You knew yours must be glistening in the same way, and you pressed your forehead to Matt’s once more in the rain and the dark, having finally made it to the eye of the storm.
So this is what we’ve been waiting for.