A/N: This is my first story for Daredevil. I have adored this show from the beginning, but never thought of writing fanfiction for it until after Season 3. I had really hoped we would see Matt and Karen finally get together for real, but since that didn't happen, I felt the need to write what I wish would on the show. I am only familiar with the Netflix series, not the comics, so I'm sticking to what I know. Thanks for taking a chance! Hope you enjoy it. *Please note, this chapter is rated a hard "T" for adult content, but I try very hard to be tasteful.

"Devil-may-care"

Chapter 1

"Karen."

Daredevil had sensed her even before he'd surreptitiously entered his apartment. Odd he could still smell her light floral fragrance over the raw pungency of a hot summer night in Hell's Kitchen, let alone over his own sweat. He could hear her familiar heartbeat loud and clear, however, lightly accelerated along with her breathing. He flattered himself to believe it was because of him, but then he supposed it was entirely plausible, considering his own similar reaction to her.

He took off his red helmet and was Matt Murdock again.

"You're wearing your suit," she said, rising from the couch at his entrance. "I'm glad."

He was glad too, he had to admit. His red armor offered him a bit more protection, and he was tired of feeling like hell every night just for the principle of the thing. There was only so much healing meditation could do.

"Yeah, but it's not mine. Mahoney swiped it before the Feds could get it when the hospital took it off Poindexter. They had pictures of it and him in it, so he figured he'd save it from rotting in some FBI evidence locker. I've gotta admit to having mixed feelings about wearing it, but until I find someone else to make more of these…" His voice trailed off, while he tried to suppress the painful memory of how he'd lost his last armorer.

"On the other hand," he finished, a small smile ghosting over his lips, "it's like my own personal sauna in this thing. All I could think of on my way home was taking a cold shower. You mind?"

She chuckled. He was kind of flushed. "Not at all. Take your time."

He started for the bathroom, but paused and turned back. "Wait. What's up?"

He could sense her shrug, heard her heart flutter. Her words came out in a breathless rush. "Nothing really. It's just the AC is out in my apartment, and since it's the weekend, no way the super is taking care of it tonight. And since you still owe me for back rent on this place, I figured you could repay me in air conditioning. I still had your key, so…"

Obviously there was something else that had brought her there, something that made her nervous, edgy. Maybe she'd feel like talking when he got out of the shower.

"Ok, that sounds like a fair trade. Give me a minute. And uh, help yourself to a beer why don't you." His tone was wry, for of course he knew that she was already drinking one.

She shook her head in wonder. "I won't even ask how you knew."

"It's a curse," he said, and resumed his mission of getting out of the godawful suit and into an icy shower. "Save me one of those, will ya?" he threw over his shoulder. A cold beer had been second on his wish list after the shower he'd longed for, although having Karen there had quickly replaced both at the top position.

Alone in Matt's living room, Karen sat down heavily on the couch. She set her half empty bottle on the coffee table, took a few deep breaths to try to calm her nerves. She'd second-guessed her coming here the moment she saw him in his Daredevil suit. Things were certainly better between them, and their new honesty, his repeated apologies, and his willingness to restart the law firm with her and Foggy had gone a long way toward encouraging her forgiveness. But blind as he was, she knew he'd seen right through her lame excuse for showing up in his apartment at two AM, and she wondered if those super senses of his could tell it wasn't just the heat that made her unable to sleep.

Their old attraction was still there, heavy and tense between them, like the air that had settled on the city the last few nights. The way he touched her when he didn't have to, the way he stood or sat too close to her—her own instincts were screaming that he wanted her too. Maybe, after all he'd done, he was hesitant to make a move, fearing she wasn't ready to resume what they'd so sweetly begun before Elektra, Fisk, and the collapse of a building had so rudely interrupted.

But she was ready, and she needed somehow to let him know that she welcomed his kisses again, and anything else he wanted to give her. Matt Murdock made her tremble, made her heart race, made her shy when she had no cause to be after all the bad things she'd seen and done. He made her feel…new. She'd told him not long ago that she'd liked how he saw her as innocent. He was her knight in shining red armor, making her feel worthy of his protection, worthy of the tender way he kissed her, respected her. Every woman wanted that, no matter how independent they were. But suppose he didn't feel that way toward her anymore? Had her confessions disillusioned him? She knew he wanted her physically, but did he want to have a relationship with her now, considering, well, everything?

She looked toward the bathroom, heard the shower and smiled at Matt's groan of pleasure as the spray hit him. An image of his scarred bare torso flashed in her mind, water streaming over his toned chest and stomach, and she felt her face grow even warmer.

As much as Karen feared for his life, he was trying to make a difference. Selfishly, she wanted him all to herself, safe from the nightly dangers of the streets. But part of her forgiveness had come with her acceptance that Daredevil was who he was, equally coexisting with Matt Murdock. And if she were honest with herself, she loved them both equally.

Matt turned off the water and slicked back his dark hair. It had been a blessedly light night of vigilantism. He'd only had to beat up a pair of muggers and kick the ass of a liquor store thief, but the heat had been more draining than if he'd gone eight rounds with Wilson Fisk. The coldness had revived him, energized him, cleared his head of the city haze, and now all he could think about was why Karen was really here, and why her heart was still beating like a hummingbird's.

He dried off quickly and donned a t-shirt and sweatpants, padding barefoot back out into the living room. Karen was in the kitchen.

He heard the smile in her voice. "You look cooler. You hungry?"

"Famished. Is that Mr. Lu's I smell?"

He'd caught the scent of Chinese takeout earlier, but he'd ignored it in favor of Karen's perfume.

"How did you-? Never mind. Have a seat. I just heated it up."

She brought in two plates and he wondered where she'd carried the beer bottle she set down before him. Then he remembered her family had owned a diner.

It was all he could do not to dive in, his hunger almost overwhelming his curiosity about Karen's late-night visit. He took a long draught of beer instead.

"What's going on, Karen? Not that I'm not happy to see you—and your Kung Pao Chicken."

She swallowed, staring down at her plate. Asking a man if he wants to sleep with you was surprisingly awkward, she thought, and stifled the urge to laugh hysterically. Asking a man to sleep with you and restart your relationship was mortifying.

He sighed and reached for her hand. On impulse, he brought it to his lips, and he felt his own heart take flight at the sensuality of her skin beneath his mouth. She reached out and lightly touched his damp hair, and, as one mind, they both remembered the last time he'd been beside her with wet hair. It had been in the pouring rain, and he'd kissed her slowly, sweetly, as they'd both wanted from the moment they'd met.

"Karen," he whispered, raising his head. And for the first time, she was the one to initiate.

Ordinarily he would have been able to predict such a sudden move from an opponent, would have been instantly ready for a countermeasure. But when Karen Page swooped in, Matt was taken completely off guard, and for a moment, his mouth was still beneath hers. She moved her lips over the seam of his, tentatively entreating entrance with the soft brush of her tongue. He opened to her with a small gasp of pleasure, his surprise quickly giving way to desire.

Their kisses before had been almost reverent, pure, though filled with deep feeling and romantic longing. This—this was no first kiss, and neither of them was in the mood for taking it slow. Matt's hand slid into her hair-baby soft, like corn silk—the other lowered to her breast, high and firm and beautiful. A noise of pleasure vibrated in her throat.

He ravaged her mouth with his, drinking her in like smooth scotch. She'd worn a thin sundress against the heat, and when he pulled her onto his lap, he caressed her long legs, inching slowly upwards to rest beneath the skirt of her dress. Her hands gripped his shoulders in anticipation.

"Matt," she breathed, her voice shaky with passion. He kissed his way from her mouth to her jaw, then to the small shell of her ear. He couldn't tell whose heart pounded louder.

"Come to bed with me," he whispered. She stilled and opened her eyes to look at him, so close she could see the lamplight reflecting in his blank brown gaze.

"And?" she prompted.

He bent to trace her delicate clavicle with his tongue, and she shivered in reaction, his light beard soft against her skin.

"I'm sure you know what happens in a man's bed, Karen." Matt's dry tone and sensual nuzzling into the hollow between her breasts was proving highly irresistible. She gritted her teeth and stuck to her guns.

"Yes…but after that. What…then?"

He lifted his head from her chest, realization dawning in his passion dazed mind. She wanted some kind of commitment from him. He stopped then, his hands stilled on her silky thighs, and not for the first time, he wished he could see her face.

"What color are your eyes?" he asked.

"Blue," she replied, her voice hesitant at the sudden shift of topic.

"And your hair? I'm guessing blond."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked in mock offense. "I'm dumb? I like to have more fun?"

He grinned. "Well, we both know you're not dumb, and I'm hoping to find out the other very soon."

She smacked his arm, just like she used to do to her brother when he annoyed her. She frowned. "You're changing the subject. I-I need to know if knowing my secrets has put you off of anything more…meaningful, because if sex is all you want, I don't—"

"I'm not put off," he said, his sudden humor giving way to his usual solemnity. "On the contrary…I'm in love with you, Karen."

"You are?" she managed, awestruck.

"Yes," he whispered against her lips before he kissed her again.

Their mutual passion overcame them, and Karen found herself easily lifted in his arms and carried to Matt's bedroom like a scene from a Harlequin novel. Somehow, as he laid her down on his bed, she didn't find it the least bit corny; it was actually one of the most romantic moments of her life.

The bedroom was dark, with only the faint light from the living room allowing her to see him pull his t-shirt over his head, step out of his sweatpants before he kneeled on the bed in only his underwear. She sat up on her elbows to watch him, their excited breathing loud in the room.

He bent and found her mouth again, while her hands smoothed over his bare skin. His torso was riddled with scars, and she'd remembered from her glimpse of it in the church basement that his otherwise beautiful body looked like a New York subway map. She felt him flinch a little when she inadvertently touched one of his more recent wounds.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely, jerking her hand away.

"Occupational hazard." He held the offending hand. "Don't worry about it. You don't know how good it feels to be touched without malicious intent for a change."

She smiled. "I'll try to be gentle with you."

His rare, dimpled smile lit up the dimness. "Be as rough as you want; I can take it."

He lifted the hem of her dress and he slowly moved it upwards. Soon her dress and lingerie joined his discarded clothes on the floor. She lay expectantly as he pulled down his boxers, feeling faint with desire and the surrealism of the moment. Matt Murdock was making love to her. She'd barely allowed herself to dream of this.

He touched her reverently now, cupping, stroking, learning her body with his hands. She shuddered and was embarrassed to hear her own moan when he found a particularly sensitive place. His lips followed his hands and her shyness was forgotten with the sensations he awakened within her. She squirmed and tensed and cried out her release just before he took her, joining their bodies with such sweet intensity that he had to pause before he blacked out at the pleasure of it.

He kissed her lips, tasted her tears.

"You okay?" he asked huskily.

"Yes," she said. "Please…don't stop."

She lifted her hips in encouragement and he groaned. Then, he began to move…

A/N: If you want to read more, please tell me what you think. If there is enough interest, I will write another chapter. Thank you for reading!

(PS: If you like my writing, I have also written for The Mentalist, Moonlight, Sleepy Hollow, Buffy, and Star Wars. I'd love for you to check them out!)