*Brick by Brick
11:52am.
Eight minutes.
The sidewalk beneath your feet felt weirdly harder than usual. Tapping your foot against it, you clenched your jaw, wishing you hadn't shown up quite so early.
When the stakes are merely personal, it's always better to be the later person to arrive. Whether for a date, a party, or whatever - being fashionably late is always best. You skip the awkward small talk, skip the painful waiting, and - above all - you're in control of the situation.
Not being in control of the situation, though, was not something you particularly enjoyed. You twisted the hem of your blazer outside the building, watching sidewalk passersby stride in all their hustling directions. The brick wall felt especially rough at your back as you leaned into it, your clothing scraping lightly against the surface, and you checked your phone for the time again - promptly expelling a hot, rigid laugh.
11:53am.
So much better.
Matt and Foggy were pretty lucky to get office space in a building like this - though it wasn't without its faults. The location was decent, and the price point Matt had quoted to you once was pretty close to a steal for what they were getting, although it did have a running list of fixer-upper qualities. As competitively-priced of a building as it was, though, you were mentally begging Karen to hurry up and get outside of it already. The waiting was killing you.
You mentioned to Matt that you were meeting with Karen. Before you each left for work, he'd told you - again - not to worry about what she saw, but it was nagging at you. That look on her face, as brief as it had been - you had to know whether it was just shock or something more.
And this wasn't something you could just let fester. You liked Karen, and although you admittedly knew her the least out of the Nelson and Murdock staff team - thanks in part to stories about Foggy you'd heard from Matt - you'd love to grow closer with her. Already, she'd revealed such horrors of her recent past to you, and in helping her gather her own intelligence on Confed Global, you were growing to hold a fuller understanding of what a powerhouse she really was, even if she didn't quite see it herself.
So, you offered a quick lunch under the guise of case information - and, sure, you'd discuss the case.
But you had to clear the air.
Secrets be damned, I guess.
Communication is, unfortunately, important.
You pulled out your phone to check the time again and promptly returned it to your pocket, seeing as it was only 11:56am. About a second later, though, the rattle of the building door caught your attention. You stood up straight, turning to see Karen step onto the sidewalk and shut the door behind her - though it took her a few shoves to really get it closed.
"Ugh, this thing," she huffed on her last jab at the door. Finally, it latched into place, and she breathed out a sigh. "They really need to invest in a better door."
"Add it to the list," you joked. Karen turned to face you, her blue eyes glinting in the sunlight, and she straightened her coat. You swore, though, that there was some wall up over the sheen of her eyes - some layer of frost that didn't quite let her usual smile make its full mark.
Maybe I'm just making it up.
Whatever.
"So," she hummed, gesturing to the moderately busy sidewalk ahead. "What did you want to talk about?"
You cleared your throat, forced a smile, and joined her as the two of you embarked on your own stroll as New York sideway passersby.
"Yeah - well, I was thinking, with the information we have so far, it'd be a good idea to divvy things up."
"I was thinking the same thing," Karen began, shaking her head, "but we have to keep Matt's rules in mind."
You laughed, remembering Foggy's disdain for Matt's preference that the whole group doesn't just take to the streets in the name of justice.
Two of us already have that covered, anyway.
"Well, as long as you're not doing anything that gets you in the emergency room," you breathed hopefully, a light breeze ruffling through your hair, "I think you can keep any potential danger off Matt's mind."
The two of you stopped at a corner, along with other people of varying levels of urgency in their walks, all halted by the deep red of a stoplight. Karen turned to you, her eyes narrowed with the sketch of a few questioning, unsteady lines.
"You have a point."
You nodded but held a hand out. "I don't mean you should lie to him. All I'm saying to you is that there are methods of getting information that aren't strictly punching people in alleys or painstakingly reading through stacks of documents." You tipped your head to the side, eyeing Karen with a slight glint in your eyes, a mild quirk along your otherwise stoic lips. "But I think you know that already."
With a chuckle, Karen nodded back at you. The two of you watched the stoplight turn green and stepped onto the street, leading the pack of others in your vicinity. Her pink heels and your navy ones moved in tandem, your longer coats floating out in the air behind you with each strutting step you took.
"That's what I keep telling Matt," Karen hummed at your side. A part of you grimaced at this second mention of Matt, but you pressed your lips together in an effort to snap it clean out of your brain.
He is her boss, but more than that, he's her friend.
Of course, she'll talk about him.
And… it's about time I talked about him, anyway.
"Look, Karen, I…" you trailed off. As the two of you continued to walk, Karen turned her head toward you, those big blue eyes wide with concern as her dainty brows curved downward.
The sight of her like that, though - it just brought your mind right back to her look of shock as she'd caught you and Matt, pretty close to a full-on makeout in the office.
You stopped, shaking your head. Karen kept her eyes on you, puzzled, and your sighing words gave away how done you really were.
"I'm sorry. It's just- this is bullshit."
Karen tilted her head to the side, her frown part confusion, part concern.
"What?" She asked. She then stepped back toward you, full of reassurance that you weren't having. "Hey, I don't think so. We've got some good leads, and as long as we keep at it-"
"I'm not talking about the case."
Karen's eyes dimmed, her brows pulling together, and your voice went a touch softer as you eyed her, your face rosier in your sheepishness.
"I honestly didn't actually ask you here to talk about the case."
Karen's head tilted lightly, the movement waving gold over her shoulders. You continued forward in a slow stroll as you worked to place your words - with Karen following your pace.
"The other night," you started. You could feel the recognition bubble up in Karen at your side. "I-"
"Listen," she offered, holding her hands out as her smiling voice stayed low - as if the people passing you on the sidewalk cared for the details of your conversation. "I don't have to have seen anything."
"But you did."
Catching Karen's mildly wary eyes, you sighed.
"I just, um- I wanted to make sure we're all… good."
Karen paused, her lips pursing before she worked out a response. "Why wouldn't we be?"
The nerves through your body were mild but present. You spoke in spite of them, finally biting the potential bullet that this sort of discussion might be. "Just- that thing, with Tristan-"
"Oh, I don't care about the Tristan stuff," Karen laughed breezily. You watched her cautiously as she continued. "He's my friend, not my-" Karen paused, words evading her for a moment - some hint of a more solemn blue flashing over her eyes. She then shook her head, blinking as she smiled at you. "Things working out between you guys or not - that doesn't matter to me."
You pressed your lips together, wishing Karen would pick up what you were trying to address - and remembering that if you wanted an answer to your question, you just had to ask the damn thing.
"No, that's not it." You sucked in a breath, stopping again. Karen also paused, and you kept your head forward with every word. "I just happened to notice, that night… the way you looked at Matt."
At your side, Karen's head jerked just a touch back. You weren't quite ready to see the details of what her expression was - so you kept on, hoping it would help.
"I just had to talk to you about it in case there was something there. The last thing I'd want would be to hurt your feelings."
Karen's voice immediately chorused after yours, full of her usual sunshine, and you slid your gaze cautiously back to her.
"Oh, Selena," she hummed, sighing with a shake of her head, "you have nothing to worry about. I mean, he's obviously a good-looking guy, and I care about him, but he's my friend." As you eyed her, examining the wide honesty of her gaze, the earnest shape of each promise from her lips, Karen held her hands out as if they held the full extent of truth that her words could carry. "That's it."
You only stared at her. Karen sighed.
"Maybe when we first got to know each other, I felt a little something. But who wouldn't?" She laughed, and your sharp eyes softened at the sound. "I was just surprised to catch you guys the way I did."
"You can tell me if you still feel something for him," you asserted, sure and firm. "I need you to know that."
Karen looked toward the street, the whirr of a few passing cars sparkling over the clear blue of her open eyes. She then looked back to you, and her tone took on another layer of certainty - just as clear as yours.
"I can't say I haven't felt attracted to him. But, I promise you, I only think of Matt as a coworker and a friend."
"You're sure about that?"
Every word from Karen's lips came out in crystal-cut honesty.
"One hundred percent."
Though you'd had your doubts, a new wave of peace washed over you. Truly, you believed her.
"Okay," you smiled, your wariness fading. "Okay."
Karen smiled back at you and stepped forward once more into a stroll, which you promptly followed. That smile of hers quickly spread into a grin.
"So, while we're on the subject," she started, a shade of caution in her lilting tone, "you and Matt, huh?"
You laughed, an unexpected flush of rose spreading over your cheeks. It hadn't been your first choice to reveal things, really - but you and Matt couldn't hide this forever. You were staying with him, for goodness' sake. And, although it wasn't quite established what the two of you technically were, it was clear that things were, at least, moderately within the realm of seriousness.
At least… that's how it seems.
As you shook your head, trying to shake off a wave of overthinking before it could take hold, Karen laughed back.
"How long has that been going on?"
Now that was a question you didn't know how to answer.
"Sort of… a while. It's complicated."
Karen's brows flicked up, but her smile remained. Another subtle breeze drew its power down the sidewalk, brushing your and Karen's hair past your shoulders. It did nothing to cool the mild blush over your skin.
"Well, then, if you don't mind me asking," Karen continued warily, "what exactly is going on with you guys?"
Another impossible question.
Unless I wanna explain the vigilantism and the bed-sharing, and the "trained in literal battle tactics by the same senior citizen," and, of course, the almost-sex-but-taking-it-slow-because-of-our-mutual-commitment-and-intimacy-issues.
Yeah. No.
"It's… still complicated." Though you hadn't been overly conscious of this part of things, you found yourself letting out a deep breath. "To be honest, I- I don't completely know."
Karen pursed her lips. "Well, if it's any consolation, it definitely seems like he likes you." At your light smile, Karen leaned her head closer, vibrant and kind. "A lot."
You mildly rolled your eyes, and she laughed at the movement - especially with how it contrasted your bashful grin.
"But I mean," Karen spoke again, clearing her throat. "Would you say it's been… under a few weeks?"
"…I think it's been a lot longer than that, to be honest."
"Dammit."
You whipped your head toward Karen's now-shut eyes as she waved her hands and pressed her lips together.
"Sorry, I- not what you think."
"What?"
"I just- I owe Foggy twenty bucks."
"What?"
You blushed a whole new shade of red as you stopped again on the sidewalk and waited, jaw mildly dropped, for Karen to speak. She pressed her hands together, licking her lips, and winced as she explained herself.
"He, uh, he thought you and Matt would have something going on outside of the group after a few weeks or less. I thought it would take a month or two, at least."
Your eyebrows lifted so high that they'd have landed on the back of your neck if such a thing was possible.
"But, hey - Foggy's known Matt longer than I have."
Words weren't a thing you knew. You just stood there, dumbfounded.
"I- I don't-"
"Sorry," Karen hummed out quickly - though much of her words were far from hesitant and much closer to amused. "I know we shouldn't have bet on it. It's just - you guys had so much chemistry; Foggy and I just disagreed on the matter of when. I swear, even on that double date, it felt like something was going on between you." Her eyes twinkled in a manner so curious, so entertained, it was almost like teenage interest in a favored celebrity pairing as she looked at you. "Was there?"
A breezing laugh of a sigh shot out from your lips, and you blinked slowly with a disbelieving smile. "I don't- I don't know what to say."
Karen smiled and motioned for the two of you to continue this ever-pausing walk.
"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."
As the two of you strolled forth, your fears assuaged - though you were still mildly caught aback by Karen's little revelation - you smiled to yourself and Karen as she continued through a grin.
"And preferably for as long as possible. I really don't feel like giving Foggy a twenty anytime soon."
————
After work, you sat in Matt's living room, thinking over your conversation with Karen. It went eons better than your worries had expected. As much as you could overthink and overanalyze her reactions and her words, Karen was honest - and you were fairly good at sussing out lies, anyway, especially in your line of work.
And, about the bet - once you got past the mild embarrassment of Karen and Foggy having been able to see the stretches of tension and attraction between you and Matt, it was honestly just funny.
But you hadn't hurt her. Really. And that felt like something almost new to you; the chance came for you to harm another person you cared for, and it simply didn't happen. She was fine - maybe even happy for you. It was a sort of relief that you weren't often permitted to feel.
The swing open and shut of the landing door sparked you out of your thoughts, and you turned your head up to see Matt, his breaths heaving, as he thudded footstep by footstep down the stairs in his suit.
"Matt?" You got to your feet, striding to meet him at the bottom of the steps. He seemed mildly winded, the tiniest glimmer of sweat peeking out through the collar of his shirt, his mask covering all but the part of his lips as he caught his breath. He didn't speak at first, and that sent a flutter of worry through your lungs. "Matt, hey, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, yeah," Matt breathed, those lips curving a smile your way. You smiled back at him, those boots of his settling just in front of you where you stood at the end of the stairs. His gloved hands landed snugly at your hips as if it was second nature. You felt a tired weight in his grip, could catch a mix of sweat and smoke as he pulled you to him like you were the cure to his lost energy. The way he kissed you was nothing short of exhausted, nothing short of needy, smooth and heavy and all-consuming - as though he was too tired to possibly think of wanting anything but your lips.
"Hey," he hummed quietly when your mouths parted. You were abuzz with the warning-free kiss, and your eyes had trailed down - down to where that thin layer of sweat had slicked his shirt tight to his torso. Every raised line of muscle was tightly outlined in black, and as your head filled exceedingly with the hot air of wanton distraction, Matt leaned closer to you, a whispering smile playing on those lips. "What?"
Your eyes flitted back up to his mask. As he focused down on you, his lungs more or less back in standard working order, you lifted your hands up to the sides of his mask, stroking each thumb along its dark edges.
"Not sure if I mentioned this," you breathed out, "but I sort of have a crush on that Devil of Hell's Kitchen guy."
"Ah," Matt nodded, his jaw mildly clenching as his lips pursed into a smirk. "You like the suit."
It was obvious, of course. Still, even as you ran your hands back down Matt's jaw, his neck, his chest, his abs, you offered him a chiding whisper. "You don't have to call me out like that."
The fabric was smooth under your touch, slick with sweat, and hot with the rush of his blood beneath it. You felt his breaths deepen, felt more flickers in his tensing muscles the closer your fingertips drew to his hips. Matt's hands tightened around you, and he leaned in, his tone low and grated in affection - as smoky as it otherwise was.
"Unfortunately, I do have to take it off." Your eyes lifted back up to his mask, and he cocked his head to the side, licking over his lower lip with every inch of grin it spread into. "Maybe I could use some help."
Though you wanted to giggle, though you knew you were blushing, you only nodded, held your smile at bay. "Maybe you could. It's pretty tight."
"Very tight." Matt's thumbs stroked warmly at your waist. You bit at your lip, the tiny movement doing nothing to stop the spread of your otherwise wide grin. "Definitely a two-person job," he purred.
"Well," you lilted, sliding your hands up to his mask, "we can start with this."
With a slow, smooth tug, you pulled the fabric up and over Matt's head. His eyes blinked tired and warm in your direction, their kind frame an entire antithesis to the hardened, gazeless mask of the Man in Black. The fluff of his hair - held down somewhat from the mask - still rose out as that fabric pulled away. You couldn't resist running your hands up through it. Matt sighed as you did and moved to walk you slowly backward - especially when you tugged lightly at his hair, chocolate locks twisted gently between your fingers. You felt the dampness of his sweat on your skin, felt his warm breath as he drew himself closer to you, and you smiled, lifting your lips to his. Matt took them without question.
He kissed you eagerly, that weight of exhaustion sending him thoughtlessly against you as if every slide of his tongue against yours was the lifeblood he needed to bring himself back. You were happy to supply what he was looking for - happy to let him walk you back all the way through his living room, over his floor, his carpet, his floor again.
Because, as much as your lips were Matt's energy, his were yours. His mouth, the way it worked against you - slick with heat and need - felt as if he was constantly calculating the perfect way to kiss you, carrying that perfection out with ease every damn time. The kisses were gentle, hard, technical, from the way his lips parted to the way he pressed his body into yours.
You were so caught up that you were hardly conscious of Matt pressing you back against the wall.
Brick after brick, this section of wall between his windows was gritty where it met your skin, but you didn't care. You felt the grate of the hard surface through your shirt, through your pants, but the feel of it almost complimented the grip of Matt's hands on your body - the way he was now pressing his torso closer, his legs closer, his hips into yours, holding you snug between the cold wall and his warm body.
All it took was a tiny tug at the hem of Matt's shirt for him to pull a breath away from you. Lifting his hands to his neck, those eyes remained squarely in your direction as Matt tugged the sweat-laden shirt up his body. You watched on, slack-jawed, at the tight fabric sliding up and over his front, placing the swells of his muscle on full display just for you. With one swift pull, he got the shirt up and over his head. You couldn't wait for him to yank it off his arms, though, grabbing him by the waist of his pants and pulling his lips back to yours. He chuckled against your mouth, and you heard fabric hit the floor - his shirt, his gloves - before his large hands slid beneath your shirt to palm up your torso, fingers splaying over your ribcage on either side.
You sighed into Matt at his touch - sighed a deeper sound of need as your hands slid over his sweat-soaked chest. Your fingers moved to feel every inch of his pecs, gliding easily across his hot, damp skin. His breaths deepened and he hissed out your name, eagerly offering a quiet groan as he pressed his hips harder against you. Whatever had happened had left him tired but still tense - and if he needed you to recover, you were more than happy to assist.
One of Matt's hands slid to the small of your lower back. Every thought you might have had left your head entirely as he ground himself against you, your shoulder blades grating against brick as that hot hand held you tight against his needing body, dampening the front of your shirt with his sweat. You moaned quietly into his mouth, hands slipping over his shoulders - and that was all the encouragement Matt needed to slide his hands down your hips, down over your ass and further. With nearly no effort - his quiet grunt being more of arousal than anything else - Matt lifted you, settling your body atop his hips, your weight balanced between him and the wall. You curled your legs around his torso, eagerly sliding your tongue into his mouth when one of his hands slid back to tighten at your waist, the other remaining stretched along the region where your thigh curved out into the swell of your ass. Though your work pants remained in the way, you couldn't help but shiver at how close his fingertips were to the slit of your cunt.
Matt's lips parted from yours, opting instead to latch mindlessly against the skin beneath your jaw. Your clit throbbed, and you choked out a poorly-restrained whine as Matt moved his searching lips to an ever-more sensitive spot beneath and behind your ear. You dragged your fingertips up into his hair, holding his head into you with the dig of your nails - and, as unintentional as the rough movement was, Matt's well-pleased groan vibrated through your neck, his cock rapidly stiffening where it strained up against his pants and into yours. You could feel the pressure of it, just slightly off from where it would hit you best, and you shifted your hips to meet him properly. Noticing your need, Matt moved your body against his, that hand sliding from your slit to grip headily onto your ass. Your hands dug into his scalp, into the back of his neck, at the white-hot pleasure of his sloppy grind up and into you.
Matt ground you against him once more, and you all but threw your head back, your vision going spotty, cunt dampening as his cock felt harder by the second. Another grind sent you spiraling further, caused the base of your spine to tighten, your cunt to twitch and throb around an imagined sensation of how wide Matt's cock would stretch you out. He kept up his work against your body, large hands sliding up to grasp lightly at your breasts or clutch tight at the back of your neck. His lips, too, kept up at your neck, and as they sucked hard at your skin in tandem with an upward jerk of his hips, you tried and failed to stifle a pleasure-ridden cry.
"Matt," you managed, breathless and sweating as he ground up into you, his sighs almost as loud as your pounding heart - nearly as potent as that tightening, melting sensation between your hips, your body dripping in anticipation, calling out in need. His body cried out to you in the same way - not to mention the soft grunts vibrating from his mouth to you with every twitching thrust he made against you. "Matt."
Matt's lips then released from your neck, and you moved your head down to meet them - but you were greeted by a draw of his brows, a slow, controlled blink as he tasted his lips with a final, shaky sigh. His bare chest shone with a light sheen of new sweat as he fought to catch his breath. Confused, you kissed him with gentle care, and he allowed it - but quickly lifted his hands back to your hips.
"Sorry," Matt whispered, his voice choked by the moment, head shaking. You only mildly frowned at him in confusion, your legs forced to unhook from his waist as he lowered you to the ground.
"What?" You managed, finding your weight again on steady ground. "Are you okay?"
Though trying to find his breath all over again, Matt sighed at you with a small smile and brushed your hair behind your ears as he kept his body detached from yours.
"Got carried away," he murmured. You just stared at him, blankly catching your breath.
"I didn't mind."
Matt pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"Rules are rules."
He pulled away from you, leaning to the floor to pick up his clothing. You watched the sculpt of his back shift as he moved around, his form expanding and contracting while he worked to steady his breaths for the second time. The room felt full of steam, every breath you drew in just a touch too flushed, and you licked your lips, still leaning against brick as though you couldn't quite manage to walk on your own just yet.
"Sometimes, you know," you hummed over the air, "rules are meant to be broken."
Matt chuckled. "I made you a promise. I'm not breaking it."
That statement sent all sorts of rosy warmth through your system, especially as Matt turned back to you with a grin. The tiniest shade of disappointment, though, floated up your spine, particularly as that molten knot within your core began the slow process of unraveling all by its lonesome. Matt stepped back up to your falsely-frowning face, drawing a hand up to stroke warm fingers along your cheek. You leaned into his touch, voice a whisper.
"I don't know if I should be thanking you or sulking."
Matt smiled down at you, leaning in with a whisper before he pressed his lips to yours.
"Thanking me works just fine."
You savored this sweet taste of Matt’s lips before he pulled away, his large hands drifting down your arms before he stepped back toward the couch, dropping his shirt, mask, and gloves onto the floor at his feet. He let out a groaning sigh as he leaned his body down to settle into the leather cushioning. It crinkled under Matt’s weight, and though your focus did catch on the shift of his abs as he settled, you also recalled just how spent he seemed when he came through the door.
“Mission go okay?” You asked, tiptoeing over to where Matt had sunk into the couch. His brows flicked, lips pressing together, as you strode around the couch to stand behind where he sat. His shoulders felt hot and tense where you placed your fingers against them, and he rumbled out a groan as you pressed deftly into the tired, knotted muscle.
“It went,” he droned. With a tiny pout over your lips, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss into the soft fluff of his hair, still working your hands expertly at his shoulders and neck. Matt released another of those quiet, breathy groans, and you dipped your head beside his ear, breathing hot against his skin. Those noises he made, though - they sent shivers up your spine like nothing else.
“Aww,” you whispered. “Does someone need a shitty beer?”
He chuckled. “Yes, please.”
You chuckled back and raked a hand up through his hair before striding over to the fridge. The two bottles, iced and damp with condensation, clinked in your hand as you brought them to the couch after popping their caps off. You handed Matt his drink and took a seat beside him, tucking your legs up beneath you where you faced him on the couch. Though he smiled into the bottle, his brows drew together.
“Thought you didn’t like my beer.”
“Well, we finished the wine,” you crooned before offering a disdainful glance at the drink in your hand, “but I’m not about to let you suffer alone.”
Matt laughed. The sound of it was hollower than usual, though, and he twiddled the bottle in his hands as his head remained starkly forward. It seemed as though all his focus was somewhere else, the concentration in his eyes well stuck in a scene of the past. Your eyes went into a sadder softness at Matt’s apparent tension. It was easy, all too natural, for you to lean your body closer and reach a hand up to the far side of his jaw. The touch of your fingertips was sparklingly light at his jawline, feeling every stubbled extension of his five o’clock shadow along the ridges of your fingertips.
Matt’s jaw clenched and promptly relaxed at your touch. He blinked hard, and another wave of concern cracked through your expression - even as his head seemed to nudge into your skin. You reached your beer-holding hand around the back of the couch and drew your face closer to his, tipping your head to the side in patient waiting as you cradled his cheek and hummed out a quiet question.
“What happened today?”
With his eyes shutting, Matt sucked in a breath and hissed it out from between his teeth.
“Detective Blake’s dead.”
“He’s dead?” You gasped. He’d been awake for a matter of days, if that. “How?”
“His partner, Hoffman,” Matt explained, blinking his eyes back open as his jaw clenched. “Poisoned him.”
The tastes of metal and bile mingled at the back of your throat.
How lives matter so little in this fucking business.
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Both of them, owned by Fisk,” Matt huffed, taking a swig of his drink with a shake of his head. As he pulled the bottle down, though, Matt slid a hand between the leather at your side and the curve of your waist, settling the stretch of his hand along your hip. You tipped your head to the side, a shred of your attention caught on the hook of his molten hand across you, but all of your attention remained squarely on the lines between Matt’s brows and the shifts of his jaw. He let out a long breath. “I got a bit out of him before he died. Not much, though.”
Matt then laughed again. This time, though, it was just as hollow as before - though the empty space within its normally-full sound was stuffed with something hardened. Bitter.
“Bet you’ll never guess who they’re pinning it on.”
Oh, Matt.
His eyes flashed red, then blue, before closing in frustration. You stroked your thumb against his cheek and tucked your legs closer to him until your knees tipped down into his lap. “The truth’ll come out, Matt,” you promised.
Matt sighed, the sound rife with dejection, echoing from the center of his chest. “I’m just at a loss for how.”
“Well…” you offered, that hand slipping down to play with his hair as he moved his beer-holding hand to rest atop your knee. “It might just be a time and effort thing.”
“Yeah,” Matt scoffed, “but this is getting to be a lot of time and a hell of a lot of effort.”
Matt was right. He’d been working at this for so long, letting the matters of Fisk and Confed Global and all the rest of the Kitchen’s seedy underbelly overcome his time, his work, his mind. This wasn’t some trivial project: it was something Matt was giving his life to, more or less. You can only give so much of your life before it’s gone.
And you, too, felt this strain, the pressure of a taut noose tugging tight, with no reprieve but its final closure. You shuddered at the thought of Fisk winning any more than he already had. You shuddered, still, at the image of Blake, dead in his hospital bed when life was so close to returning. His choices killed him. That risk was true, again, for you - but your thoughts right now were on Matt, eyes darting over every inch of his worried, battered skin.
There wasn’t much that could be done. When these people work as far underground as they do, when the sunlight doesn’t even begin to touch their undertakings, it’s all but impossible to make other people see them for the horrors they truly are.
Wait, you thought to yourself, your eyes narrowing by a touch. Sunlight.
“What about Ben Urich?”
Matt’s head tilted slightly. You pressed your lips together, keeping on with your lightbulb.
“He’s all for making the truth known,” you continued. “And not just according to Karen. I’ve read some of his work.”
Matt pressed out a breath, licking his lips as his brows tugged together. “Me too.” He then sighed, lifting that bottle again to his lips. “I don’t know if he’d risk publishing on something like this, though.”
“But he’s on our side,” you insisted, straightening your posture, your legs pressing against Matt’s lap. “We know that, at least. And if a certain Man in Black offered a bit of persuasion for Mr. Urich to publish something sooner than expected,” you lilted, eyeing a shadow of a smile around the mouth of that bottle, “maybe this Mr. Urich would see more value in investigating further. Maybe, even, to the point of proving this Man in Black’s innocence by revealing Fisk’s guilt.”
As Matt drew his drink back to his lap, licking over the taste of beer left on his lips, he turned his face toward yours. The smile wasn’t at your preferred level of brightness just yet - but it was a start.
“Maybe it’s worth a shot,” he rasped, gravelly - but sifted through with the slightest shards of renewed hope. You stroked your thumb along Matt’s cheek, and he leaned his head forward, his eyes open with grace and light.
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
Though a faint hint of beer remained over his tongue, the most prominent taste on your lips was the start of a smile as Matt kissed you with all the grateful warmth he had. You were glad you’d been able to make him feel just a bit better.
If not yet… all the way better.
You surely wouldn’t have minded helping Matt in other ways. The way he was all worked up - it made sense. With his senses dialed to a hundred, touch specifically was bound to be either a source of great hurt or a source of great reprieve for him. You made a note in your head at how eager he’d been to touch you - among other things - when his mind had slipped into frustration and worry.
For future reference.
“So…” you sat up slightly, running your hand down to tap at Matt’s chest. “Your next task will be to get to Ben Urich, somehow, while I continue working on our next epic team mission.”
Matt nodded with a lifted brow, his half-smile something sparkling. “The club.”
“Precisely.”
“You have a plan?”
You scoffed at him, swirling your drink. “‘Do I have a plan.’ Of course, I do, Matty.” The tsk from your lips drew his half-smile into a full grin. “I think you know me well enough by now to know that I always have a plan.”
“Wasn’t doubting you,” Matt laughed, his head leaning chidingly toward yours. He paused, though, eyes going a shade more narrow. “Matty?”
You blushed, grinning right back.
“Hey, I figured if Stick, of all people, gets to call you that, so do I.”
He shook his head. “I’m not complaining.”
“Good,” you purred, whispering your lips along the scruff of his jaw. “Because I think it suits you.”
“Does it?”
“Mhm,” you kept on, drifting your lips up closer to Matt’s ear. The muscles at this side of his neck flickered slightly as your heated breath drifted over his skin. “I think it especially suits you when you act as needy as you did just a minute ago.”
One other thing you’d noticed about Matt Murdock: he was never averse to a tease. In fact, it seemed as though it was a welcome challenge, a source of titillating entertainment for his sharp mind and sharper senses.
Not surprising, law career and all.
From where your head was positioned, you saw Matt’s jaw tense out, his cheeks stretch back in an open, grinning breath of a laugh. You twisted your own smiling lips together. At his chest, your fingertips traced up over drying sweat, trailing a line up to his neck - where you swirled the tip of your index finger over his skin. You opened your already-parted lips to speak, but Matt’s voice cut through the silence first, more sultry and warm than you were expecting.
“And when you act as needy as you did just a minute ago?” He purred, tipping his head so that those plush lips would offer their sound right into your ear. “What should I call you then?”
A laugh escaped you. “Call me whatever you want.”
“No, no,” Matt chided, his hand at your hip tapping you lightly. “I want to know what you like to be called.”
A shiver wound its way up through your body. Matt didn’t let up, not even when he absolutely heard the rate of your pulse move slowly into speeding territory.
“I know you like your name, and I know you like ‘sweetheart,’” he hummed into you, stubble grazing your cheek, “but I just want to make sure I’m not missing anything.”
Your tongue darted out over your lips. Even the sound of his voice was enough. Didn’t matter what name he used it for, not with you. Especially not when he was so very close, and so very warm.
“I do think I remember, though,” Matt kept on in the same rasping, sultry tone, “that you don’t seem to mind praise.”
At that statement, your breath hitched. That night, the night where the stitches you required were just numerous and deep enough for Matt’s help to be an absolute necessity - that was the night where his words of affirmation had drawn up sensations within you that drove further than the prick of a suture. And, of course, this was evidently something he’d remembered. You didn’t need to see Matt’s mouth to know how wide his smirk was.
“Maybe I’ll just make sure to remind you how good you feel, smell, sound - or just how good you’re doing for me. How’s that?”
Your cheeks dimpled and blushed, no matter how hard you tried to fight the expression.
“I…” you started, faltering as Matt pressed his fingers deeper at your waist, drew his lips so close to your ear that your skin tingled in their presence.
“Like you said,” he declared, low and gritty and wanting. “I know you well enough by now.”
Palm on Matt’s chest, your fingers had straightened and twitched to lay flush along his skin, his controlled breaths shifting against you as you listened to every dark word. It took you a moment to collect yourself - but you did it.
You’re not the only one who likes a challenge.
“You know what I think?” you whispered, every syllable floating feather-light on the dim evening air. Matt remained still, and you smiled, pressing your breath-like words into him under the guise of a slow, open kiss against his jaw. “I think you’re all talk.”
Matt chuckled darkly, that hand still tight at your hip. You kissed at his jaw again, letting the tip of your tongue flick at its sharply carved corner.
“Trying to tempt me?” He rumbled. You only kissed him again.
“Is it working?”
Though Matt’s steady tone would have anyone believe otherwise, the shivers of tension in his neck and shoulders gave away his weakness for your lips. You smiled against his skin, holding your beer bottle carefully behind the couch as you slid your body lower, lips latching onto the stubble-laden skin beneath Matt’s jaw. You sucked at his neck, tasting sweat and salt and smoke over your tongue in a welcome mix of him. The reaction, though, was immediate; Matt’s neck tensed further, his hand clutching tighter at your hip. You smirked and kept up your work, trailing your free hand, slow and gentle, down his chest - which, you noticed, expanded further with his deepening breaths.
“I asked you a question, Matty,” you whispered. He shivered - but fought the feeling, opting to gulp down a gasp instead of letting sensation overtake him when your teeth grazed his skin. It took a moment of focus, first, but Matt did manage to offer you a response.
A single word, hot and bothered - but, somehow, unimaginably, still in control.
“Careful.”
Your brows tightened downward, snarkily grinning at his neck in between presses of your lips and tongue. “Careful?”
Matt huffed out a low, gritty sound, somewhere between a grunt and an impatient breath, as he moved his free hand to shove your body up onto his. Thighs slid atop thighs as he forced you over until your lower hip settled right into the crook of his lap. You gripped at his shoulder and your drink, eyes wide at the quick jerk of your body, trying to regain your balance. Matt only chuckled at your lack of control and slid his hand onto your waist to steady you. Looking down at his entertained grin and sparkling eyes, you huffed out a breath - though your eyes remained wide at the feeling of his once half-hard cock now fully stiffened against your hip. Matt licked his lips and drew his head closer to yours.
“Careful,” he confirmed. “You asked me a question. I answered.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Matt smiled up at you, repeating a small, dismissive phrase he’d offered you long ago.
“Just because it’s not the answer you want doesn’t mean it’s not an answer.”
You scoffed, trying and failing to shift your hip away from Matt’s cock - though the accidental grind made him draw his brows together, draw his tongue over his lips, all in an arousal-consumed way you wouldn’t soon forget. The smile on your face was all self-satisfied, even as Matt continued to speak, leading first with the familiar rasp of your name.
“You gave me a responsibility, and I told you I’d stick to it.”
“And what are you gonna do if I push that, Matt?” You lilted with a narrowed gaze and a sugary grin, dipping your head to his until your noses nearly touched. “Punish me for misbehaving, hm? Is that why I have to be so careful?”
Matt’s lips only quirked subtly to the side, nothing else on his face of note. Your eyes flicked wide for a split second at the tiny, subdued reaction.
Is that... something he’d like?
“I’m going to stay true to my word because I care about you,” Matt hummed, his hands stroking along your back, ruffling the loose fabric of your shirt in a way that both drew you away from those thoughts and plunged your mind even further beneath them. “No further. Not just yet.”
Though the throb beneath your hips would have enjoyed some semblance of release, your heart fluttered at Matt’s determination to remain true to you - true to the promise he’d made you on the night he said his heart was yours.
“Okay,” you breathed, your lips brushing his as a smile spread over both of you. And Matt’s kiss, then, was as hot as it was kind, butter and sugar over your tongue.
But his cock didn’t settle, and neither did that pulsing feeling between your legs.
Whatever, you thought to yourself, forcing your feelings to steady themselves.
We’ve managed tougher challenges. It’s all just a matter of focus.
How difficult can this waiting thing really be?