Bed, Breathless (Elektra/Matt)
Mattelektra + Bed
This isn’t exactly what Matt had in mind when he’d suggested going over questioning tactics.
She’d agreed too quickly, nodding rapidly and practically pushing him into the dark apartment.
But he can appreciate her consideration for his heightened senses, silk scarves slipping pleasant against his wrists as she knotted them to the bedposts, the tips of her manicured fingernails gently dragging down his bare chest.
“Matthew…” she whispers, smiling down at him, face flush with anticipatory heat, her heartbeat echoing in his ears, “… why did you hide my knives?”
Internally he curses, trying to repeat his previous argument against her brand of vigilantism, but it’s impossible to focus with her bare thighs astride him, pouty lips millimeters from his own.
Mattelektra + Breathless
Not even half an hour later and the tables have turned, Elektra’s eyes rolling back in her head in pleasure as she holds on for dear life.
There has never been another like him, no one who listened to her breathing, using it like a road map to all the most sensitive parts of her body, lingering when the sound in her chest hitches, doubling down when she whimpers in the back of her throat.
Like most lawyers, Matt can be quite persuasive with his tongue, but she doubts any of his opponents have been subjected to this level of thoroughness.
It’s a crime, the way he looks up at her after she arches against him, so self satisfied, so pleased with himself, head cocked to the side slightly as he listens.
It makes her self conscious, her heart hammering against her sternum, breaths still coming short and desperate, but he just climbs up beside her and tucks her under his arm, and for a second or so she actually starts to believe the world might be safe enough.