Sitting cross-legged on my couch, a large bowl of salad I'd made resting on my lap, I mindlessly stared at the television. I stabbed a piece of roasted cauliflower and arugula with my fork before bringing it to my mouth, staring straight ahead as I watched a rerun of a holiday baking show from last year. This round they were judging gingerbread cookies and I was internally wishing I had some myself.
Today had gone by slowly; Jessica was working a case for Luke, something she wouldn't tell Malcolm or I much about. She'd been quiet all day after letting me know that she was on the case just so I wouldn't worry that Kilgrave had gotten her. She'd also told me Trish had been radio silent ever since she'd taken a single tase and passed out when we'd tried to grab Kilgrave. So all I could do was go about my mundane life today; work, go on a brief run, shower, make dinner, and then hopefully soon have a restful sleep.
I hadn't really heard from Matt either since we'd had dinner last night. I had texted him good luck with their trial this morning and he'd responded with a simple thank you, but that had been that. I tried not to think too much about it; I knew he'd told me the guy was probably going to walk free and that the man in the mask was going to have to hunt him down tonight in the hopes of getting some information.
After I finished my dinner, I unloaded my dishwasher and refilled it with dirty dishes. I cleaned up the countertops and got myself a glass of water before meandering back to the couch. I stayed up watching another hour of holiday baking shows before eventually turning off the television and heading into my bedroom, sliding the door shut behind me as I went. I flipped off the light and found my way to my bed with the dim glow from the city drifting past the edges of my curtains.
Once in bed, I tugged the sheets up high towards my chin, shivering slightly at the cold mattress, before my eyes drifted shut.
The coffee sat half drunk in front of me. My mind felt fuzzy, almost like I'd come out of a haze. When I glanced up, Kilgrave was sitting on the opposite end of the outdoor bistro table. He was reading a newspaper, his own cup of coffee in one hand. When he caught me staring, he lowered the paper a fraction and smiled.
"Smile, little dove," he told me. "You're so much more beautiful with that smile on your face."
I hesitated, wondering how I'd gotten here to this table on the back patio of this extravagant house. I wasn't even entirely sure where we were anymore: the U.S.? Spain? France? I could recall a few moments, images flashing in my mind, but they felt a little foggy and distant. Then I noticed the twitch of Kilgrave's mouth, his head tilting more in my direction, his eyes narrowing slightly the longer I remained still.
I smiled wide, baring my teeth brightly at him. His expression changed from guarded to warm just as abruptly.
"Beautiful, little dove," he told me. "Why don't you come here and sit with me?" he asked.
My smile faltered for a moment; I didn't want to. I didn't want to curl up on his lap like a cat and feel his hands run along my skin, my hair, my mouth.
The pill is wearing off…
As the thought passed through my mind, I stilled. He didn't know, judging by the commands. Slowly, reluctantly, I rose and crossed the space towards him. He set the paper down and slid his chair back, gesturing towards his lap. Obediently, I sat. His hands began to run along my thighs as he leant in, breathing in the scent of my hair.
"I missed this, little dove," he breathed out. "I just wish we'd get back to you choosing to do this again already."
He pulled back, holding my gaze for a moment, eyeing me curiously as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Kiss me," he commanded.
I fought back the surge of disgust roiling in my stomach. Quickly I leaned in, brushing my lips against his before pulling back. His eyes narrowed as he frowned.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Kiss me like you mean it," he ordered me, his tone firm and commanding. "Like you'll die if you don't."
Something sparked in my brain and I flew against him against my own will. My hands were gripping his neck tight, clinging to him as my mouth worked feverishly against his. One of his hands was roughly gripping the back of my head, holding me in place, while the other was sliding its way up my thigh.
No! No! I don't want this! Stop touching me! Get off of me!
I could hear my own voice screaming in my head, but I couldn't stop kissing him. I couldn't get his hands off of me. I felt his fingertips rubbing over my jeans and a tear slipped unnoticed down my cheek.
I gasped a shuddering breath awake and realized a moment later I was being held, my arms pressed to my sides. Thrashing violently, I tried to break out of the grasp. I couldn't see who was in my room, who'd pulled me up towards my headboard and was holding my arms so tightly to my sides. But I could still feel Kilgrave's hands all over me, his mouth all over mine, his voice in my head. I fought harder against the solid form behind me, about to scream, when a voice called from just beside my ear.
"Relax, it's just me. It's Matt," Matt whispered calmly, his chin hovering just above my shoulder. "I heard you having a nightmare. I…I slipped in to check on you. You left your window unlocked from the other night."
Immediately I stopped fighting his hold, my breathing coming in sharp pants. I suddenly was aware of his muscled chest pressed flat against my back; he could probably feel the thundering of my heart against his own chest. His head dipped lower, the rasp of his stubble bristling against my cheek as he spoke in a whisper again.
"I'm sorry if this is out of line, and that I startled you," he told me, his voice a low, deep rumble–the Devil's. "I was on my way back into my apartment. I could hear your heart racing. You were crying," he said, gentle fingers sliding up my cheek to wipe away the wetness there. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I can leave, though."
He started to untangle his arms from my waist, pulling his chest away from me. I didn't know what came over me but I suddenly reached out, latching onto his hands with my own and quickly pulling him back against me, comforted by the warmth at my back. I briefly registered the hiss of pain he made but my panicked mind was just glad he was here.
"Stay," I said, my words a pleading whisper in the dark.
He locked his hands back around my waist, sighing lightly as he rested his chin against my shoulder, his head turned just enough so that his lips were brushing the bare skin of my neck. I leaned back into him, enjoying the comfort of his touch and the safety of his presence. My eyes drifted to the side and in the faint light peeking behind my curtains I could see the black mask lifted just up over his forehead. I released my grip on one of his hands and raised mine gently to his temple, brushing my fingertips lightly across his skin.
"Your mask isn't on," I whispered.
He nuzzled against my neck, his lips grazing my skin so softly that a tingle of goosebumps rose along my bare arms. My eyes drifted shut at his touch; it stood in stark contrast to the feeling of another that had been on me in my dream just moments ago.
"I didn't want to scare you, waking up to a masked man in black in your room," he told me. A breathy laugh left him. "Didn't work."
"It was more the waking up to being restrained," I said sheepishly.
"I tried to wake you gently," he told me, "but you tried to hit me. You were screaming, so I tried to hold you. Was hoping…it would be comforting," he admitted before burrowing deeper against my neck.
My hand slid further back, underneath his mask and into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. I felt his lips part against my skin as he leaned forward into me.
"Thank you," I whispered to him. "I'm sorry for freaking out. I'm not used to having anyone around when I wake up, especially not when I have nightmares."
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his lips brushing along my skin with each word.
My hand paused in his hair and I tensed against his body. I opened my eyes and took him in; his face burrowed in my neck, the black mask pulled up to reveal a bit of mussed brown hair on his forehead, his strong arms clad in black secured tight around my waist, both of his large, warm hands splayed flat against my stomach, his muscled, powerful thighs pressed to the outside of mine in his dark pants. This was Matt–not Kilgrave–and his touch was gentle, caring, affectionate, wanted .
"You don't have to," he whispered when I didn't answer for a while.
"It was about Kilgrave," I breathed out. "From when he had drugged me. When it was starting to wear off." My hand in his hair drifted quickly back down; both of my hands grasped the back of his and held tight. His fingers squeezed back. "He…he was…touching me…making me kiss him and I couldn't make myself stop. I didn't want to–"
"Hey, shh, it's okay," he said, shifting so his mouth was by my ear again. "You're here with me. You're safe. He's not here. He's not going to touch you."
I turned my head towards him, the movement grazing my lips against his so lightly I could barely feel it. He inhaled sharply at the gesture, arms tightening. He leaned forward in response, just a little, with his lips parted. His breath blew warm into my own parted lips, into my mouth. Slowly, I leaned forward and closed the miniscule distance, connecting our lips in a sweet, soft kiss. Our mouths moved carefully together, agonizingly, deliciously slow. I could taste the faint copper tang of his blood drifting into my own mouth.
I twisted in his arms, inhaling deeply through my nose as I moved, turning myself towards him as our lips remained joined together. His grip loosened around my waist, allowing the movement. When we were chest to chest, I flung myself forward into the kiss, wrapping my arms tight around his neck and hungrily pulling him to me.
He broke from the kiss with an unexpected grunt of pain. I immediately pulled back, my arms dropping to my sides as I stiffened in front of him.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," I apologized quickly.
"No," he said between a hiss of pain, "it's not you. The…the guy I was interrogating earlier hit me with a metal pipe a few times. Got in a few good hits."
"Shit," I cursed again, worry rising in me, "are you okay? Fuck, I should have asked," I grumbled angrily.
I began to slide off the bed and Matt reached back out for me, his hand grasping in the empty air.
"Where are you going?" he asked quickly.
"Turning on a light," I told him as I crossed the room, flipping on the switch. "So I can see how hurt you are."
"Sweetheart, I'm fine," he assured me.
My heart flipped at the word and I paused, hesitating by the door. With the light on I could see him sitting on my bed, back against the walnut headboard. His unmasked face was cocked to the side, his brows furrowed over his eyes. There was a light frown on his lips which were still wet and a little swollen from kissing me, and that thought alone made an ache grow deep within me. I swallowed hard and pushed the thought away, focusing on his injuries.
I headed back to the bed, climbing on and crawling between his legs, nudging them open further with my own. He complied, allowing more space for me to sit on my knees in front of him.
He had a small cut on his cheek and another just above his lip. Part of the tight, black fabric on his chest was torn revealing a four inch long gash; it looked deep enough for stitches but not too deep for me to fix. My hands carefully reached out and lifted up the hem of his shirt, raising it slightly. There was a large, angry bruise covering his side that stretched across part of his very defined abs.
"If you wanted me to undress, you just had to ask," Matt teased lightly.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the blush rising on my cheeks.
"You've got a few cuts. Some bad bruising," I told him. "I can help you with them, if you'd like."
He shook his head, reaching out on the bed and feeling for my hand. When he caught it, he brought it swiftly to his lips and gave my knuckles a light kiss.
"I can stitch myself up later," he assured me. "And if I meditate I can heal faster."
Chewing my lip nervously, I stared at him for a moment. He'd lowered our intertwined hands to rest against my knee, his thumb dancing back and forth across my skin.
"I wasn't talking about…stitching," I told him awkwardly. His head tilted curiously to the side. "I told you once before that I can…heal minor injuries too. I can…help with some of these." I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I mean, if you'd like."
His lips pulled into a straight, pensive line for a moment. His eyes were focused somewhere near my shoulder and they looked deep in thought.
"Will it hurt you?" he eventually asked.
"No, I know my limits," I told him. "I promise."
He nodded his head. "Okay," he agreed.
"You uh…you're going to need to take off your shirt," I told him, my voice wavering.
He pulled the tight black fabric up, wincing at the movement. It took him a moment, but with some help, we managed to get it off. I set the shirt off to the side and then turned back to Matt.
And froze.
My heart began to race and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. His arms were even larger now that there wasn't fabric hiding them; defined muscle that led my eyes up towards his broad, strong shoulders. His chest and abs, though marked with scars, were so defined that his skin was pulled taut over the muscle and I could see every dip and crevice. I could feel my breath coming in fast just imagining him climbing on top of me on my bed, his arms tensed as he held his weight over me.
"See something you like?"
I blinked rapidly before turning my attention up towards his face. I swallowed hard, embarrassed.
"Sorry," I mumbled weakly.
He smirked, licking his lips. "I'm not," he whispered low.
I cleared my throat and rolled my eyes yet again at him.
"Half your torso is covered in a giant bruise and you're literally bleeding on my bed," I told him. "Are you really going to try that right now?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just really enjoy hearing your pulse race like that," he admitted.
I focused back on his injuries, my attention turned to the cut on his cheek and above his lip. I reached out a hand tentatively and stopped with it hovering just over his face.
"So uhm, to do this I sort of have to…" I cleared my throat nervously, "touch you. Just a…a heads up."
His mouth pulled back into a devilish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his head cocked further to the side. I could feel him focusing in on me, that familiar prickle I got when he did returning. Briefly I wondered why I seemed to pick up on it sometimes, but Matt's voice pulled me back.
"You have my permission to touch me," he said, his tone inflicting a double meaning intentionally.
I swallowed hard, ignoring the way his words made me feel. Instead, I lightly laid my hand on his cheek and closed my eyes. Focusing, I mentally reached out towards Matt, searching for the injuries. I could feel the familiar vibrating in my head; it slid down the back of my neck and to my hand along with a flood of warmth. I heard Matt inhale gently when the tingling warmth reached his skin. I could feel the cells in his body speed up; energy surging through my fingertips straight to them as they began sealing the cut. It was only a few moments before I opened my eyes and saw the cuts had completely disappeared as if they'd never been there in the first place. Glancing up, I saw Matt's eyes had closed as well, a peaceful expression lingering on his face.
My attention turned down towards his bare chest where the deeper gash was. Gingerly I rested my fingertips over the cut, hearing a faint hiss of pain from Matt as my eyelids fluttered shut again. This time it was easier for me to reach out and find the injury, leading the energy from me towards his body, into his very cells where they instantly began healing the cut at an amazingly rapid pace. Because of the depth of the cut, this one took a bit longer than the two on his face, but Matt remained still, allowing me to work as only a soft, peaceful sigh blew slowly out of his mouth.
When I opened my eyes again, the cut had also vanished, just like the ones on his face. My fingertips lightly traced across the skin where the bleeding wound had been just moments ago; Matt exhaled a soft noise at the gesture and I bit my lip, turning my attention farther down to his bruised abdomen and trying to ignore the heat between my thighs.
I slid my hand down across his right pectoral, dragging my fingers past the defined edges of each abdominal muscle before I softly pressed my hand against him, palm flat against a section of his bruise. My eyes drifted closed again, trying to reach out my focus.
"Bruising is more difficult," I mumbled to him, searching for the injury below the skin. "The damage from a cut is obvious, this takes more focus." I frowned, mentally scanning the bruise beneath my hand. "I can't…can't fully heal this, but I can help speed it up. It'll hurt less but…you should still let your body rest before…going back out."
Matt let out a low grunt of understanding as I fell silent again. I focused the energy into his body again, feeling the warm vibration centered on my palm now. We stayed like that for a few minutes in silence before I opened my eyes. The bruise looked less angry, but it was still there, covering a wide section of his body. I reluctantly dropped my hand to my lap, looking back up at Matt. His eyes were still closed and there was a faint smile on his mouth; his body had shifted forward, leaning in towards me.
"Hopefully that uh…feels better," I murmured.
I watched as he lightly nodded his head, his eyes slowly opening and taking a moment to focus towards my cheek. The faint smile was still on his face.
"It does, thank you," he answered quietly. "How do you…do that? It felt like…like the sun on a summer day. Warm and almost…almost like my skin was vibrating."
I shrugged in response. "I don't really know. My mind can sort of reach out, link up to someone else's. It's like our consciousnesses communicate on a cellular level or something. Tells mine where the wound is, where something is wrong, and then I can sort of like…reach out? Transport some sort of energy that I'm able to manipulate. It speeds up the cell's ability in your body to heal." My eyes darted down to my hands in my lap, fidgeting. "It works the same way as me giving commands to people; my consciousness reaches out towards another and pushes thoughts or actions into theirs. I've never really understood it; I haven't used it much in a long time. I sort of…sort of tried to not use my powers ever since…Kilgrave," I admitted. "Just wanted to be normal."
"Hey," he called out gently, his hands searching for mine. I slid them towards his, letting him grab on and hold them tight. "There's nothing wrong with who you are," he continued. "You're not like him. You're a good person."
Part of my lip tugged up into a small smile. My head raised, turning my attention to Matt. He was staring at me so intensely it was like he could see me. I gave both his hands a quick squeeze before letting them go.
"You hungry?" I asked him, sliding back over to the edge of the bed. "Healing you sort of made me hungry."
Matt chuckled softly, shifting on the bed and following me off of it. He began pulling his shirt back on as he followed.
"I'm not going to ask you to cook me food in the middle of the night," he replied.
I waved a hand at him even though he couldn't see the gesture.
"Don't worry about it. I'm serious, healing you made me hungry and a little tired," I assured him. "And after that nightmare, I could use a few minutes before falling asleep."
I slid my bedroom door open and headed towards the kitchen, Matt followed closely behind.
"Eggs sound good," I mumbled as I opened my fridge and scanned the contents. "Still have some leftover diced vegetables I can throw in them." I looked at Matt over the top of the fridge door, one brow raised. "You hungry?"
He let out a deep sigh and then slowly nodded.
"Honestly I haven't really ate much today," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Been sort of busy with the trial today. Then was out…for a bit this evening. As you can see."
"Alright, that settles it," I told him, leaning back into the fridge and pulling out the carton of eggs and the diced vegetables. "I'm going to make us some eggs, you can head back to your apartment and get changed into something…" I paused, eyeing his all black outfit, "less conspicuous. I'll get started on the food. Sound good?"
Matt laughed a little before nodding his head. He wandered over to my window and pulled his mask down to cover his face. I began pulling out a pan and tossing the vegetables in with some olive oil as I saw him sliding the window open and slipping out into the night, shutting it behind himself.
I spent the next few minutes focused on sautéing the vegetables and getting the eggs scrambled and ready to cook. In the background I had the food channel on again; some Thanksgiving cook off challenge was playing and I was only half listening to it.
A light knock at the front door startled me momentarily before I set the spatula down and headed to the front door. I unlocked it and found Matt, clad in a black tee-shirt and dark gray sweatpants tucked into a pair of warm looking socks. I smiled and stepped aside.
"Come in, I'm almost done with the food," I told him.
He stepped into the apartment and I locked up behind him before hurrying back to the kitchen. I poured the eggs into the pan to cook and was about to ask Matt if his night time activities had been successful when I suddenly felt a pair of warm hands grasp my hips. Matt's warm body suddenly pressed entirely against the back of me as I continued to cook. His left hand slowly dragged its way from my hip up my back to my neck, where his fingers gently brushed my hair over my shoulder leaving the skin bare. I inhaled sharply when the stubble of his chin grazed me there as his left hand returned to my hip.
"Thank you for healing me," he whispered, his face hovering just over my left shoulder, "and for making food. It smells good."
My heart was racing in my chest again at the closeness; my breath starting to come in short, breathy pants that I was trying hard to conceal.
"Well someone should probably–" I began, pausing to swallow hard when the fingers of his right hand slid just a fraction under my tee-shirt, brushing against my skin ever so slightly. I blinked hard and tried to focus on the food and not what Matt was doing to me. "Someone should probably make sure Hell's Kitchen's favorite vigilante is fed and not bleeding out somewhere," I said breathily.
I felt him shift against me, and then suddenly his lips were on the nape of my neck, planting a gentle kiss across the delicate skin.
"Then I'm glad it's you," he murmured against my neck.
He nuzzled against the back of me, his fingers tightening against my waist, as he brushed his nose into my hair.
"You always smell so good," he whispered.
I turned the burner off on the stove; the eggs had finished cooking and I was going to lose my mind if Matt kept touching me like he was.
"Like peanut butter?" I joked.
He laughed a little, pulling his face away. "No, not usually."
I turned towards him, his hands remaining in place on my hips as I did. I watched his smile grow now that I was facing him. Feeling like he deserved a little taste of his own medicine, I placed my hands against his abdomen, careful of the giant bruise I knew was there, and very slowly and intentionally slid both of them up towards his chest.
How in the hell does his body feel like this? It's not even fair.
Biting my lip, I glanced up towards his face to see the smile gone. Instead, his nostrils were flared and his jaw was clenched tightly, the muscles working visibly in his cheeks. I let my hands continue up, resting on his broad shoulders, momentarily digging my nails in lightly. A sharp exhale blew from his nose as his eyes darkened, his gaze somehow landing on my mouth. I smirked, sliding my hands up both sides of his neck, though the feel of his warm skin under my hands caused my own heart to stutter. Ignoring the thoughts threatening to rise to the forefront of my mind, I trailed both hands to the back of his neck where my hands slid up, gripping onto his hair. Using my grip on his hair, I gently pushed his head lower towards me; his face dipped down closer. I could feel his muscles stiffen underneath me as I rose onto my toes, reaching his face better. His eyes fluttered shut when my lips very faintly grazed his jaw, his own lips parting just a hair. Fighting back the urge to just kiss his tempting mouth, I lifted mine higher, very lightly grazing his skin along the way, and paused just at his left ear.
I leant in enough to just brush my lips along his ear as I whispered, "Food's done."
And then I released him, abruptly lowering to my feet and grinning at the pained look on his face.
"That was cruel," he pointed out.
"Mmm, you know, you've been doing that to me nonstop," I told him with a laugh. "It's called karma. Now, I can make you up a plate if you want to sit on the couch?" I asked him. "Probably would be more comfortable for you than my bar stools with that giant bruise and that knot in your shoulders and back."
His head tilted to the side as he asked, "Knot in my shoulders?"
"Yeah I uh…noticed it when I was healing you," I told him awkwardly. "Sore muscles are not something I can fix with my abilities, though." I waved a hand to shoo him quickly, feeling heat rise to my cheeks the longer he looked at me like that while my brain forced me to remember the feel of his bare chest under my hands. "Go get comfortable, I'll get you food."
He watched me silently for a moment before he nodded. "Thank you," he said softly before turning towards the living room.
I headed to the cabinet to pull out plates and cups as he headed towards the couch in the living room. As I turned back to the pan, piling eggs onto both plates, I called back over my shoulder, "You want water or orange juice? Cause that's all I've got."
"Water is good, thank you," he called back.
I smiled as I grabbed silverware out of a drawer before walking the plates to the living room. I handed Matt his before setting mine on the coffee table, telling Matt I'd grab water in a moment. I wandered back to the kitchen and filled up two cups before bringing them back and informing Matt where his was located before him. Then I plopped onto the couch, plate in hand, and curled my legs up under me. Beginning to eat, my eyes glanced back at the cooking show I had playing.
"In all seriousness, thank you for…all of this," he said sincerely. "I'm not exactly used to anyone taking care of me."
"Really, it's no problem," I told him. "Just happy to help. I'm really appreciative of the late night company. Makes me feel a little better."
He turned towards me, a small smile on his lips. "I'm glad I can make you feel better, Olivia." He took another bite of food and then quickly said, "This is really good by the way."
"You're just saying that so I make the Devil of Hell's Kitchen some more late night snacks," I teased.
He laughed and shook his head. "No, I'm being serious."
"Well thank you," I said. "Seems like high praise coming from a guy with heightened senses."
"It is," he teased me back.
We fell into a few minutes of silence as we continued to eat. My eyes drifted to the TV again as Matt was seemingly partially paying attention to it but clearly in thought.
"Did you find out what you needed to tonight?" I asked him after a while, breaking the silence.
"Yes, I did," he answered, his tone darker than it had been all night. "I got a name. Wilson Fisk."
I shook my head, spearing another egg on my plate. "Never heard of him before, but I also haven't been here long."
"I've never heard of him either," Matt told me.
I swallowed the bite of food I was chewing, eyeing him carefully from the corner of my eye. "So that means more late night activities?"
"Yeah," he said simply.
I nodded, chasing a chunk of red bell pepper around my plate with my fork. "Just uh…be careful, please?" I asked him hesitantly. "I'd…like you to stay breathing."
Matt's head inclined in my direction, his eyes focusing somewhere along my jaw. His mouth twitched a bit, as if he was thinking of how to respond.
"I will," he told me after a moment.
We finished the food in silence and I cleared both our plates before adding them to the dishwasher. As I turned towards the living room, I paused for a moment, enjoying the sight of Matt sitting there with one arm tossed over the back of the couch, relaxed, as if he belonged there. Exhaling a soft, shaky breath, I made my way back into the living room and towards the couch, about to return to my spot. I stopped in front of the couch before I sat, momentarily contemplating the space beside Matt. I bit the inside of my cheek nervously before shrugging–we'd already been kissing earlier, why couldn't I sit next to him?
I took a step over and sat down beside him, smiling faintly when his arm on the back of the couch instantly lowered onto my shoulders, pulling me in closer towards him so my head was resting against his shoulder. I pulled my legs up underneath me and sighed contentedly.
"I like this," I whispered hesitantly.
His head turned a fraction towards me. "Like what?" he whispered back.
My arms slowly wrapped around him as I pulled myself a bit closer to his warm body. My hands rested along his lower back and his hip and I struggled not to focus on the solid feel of him beneath my hands yet again. Or the thought that snuck its way into my head telling me I shouldn't be doing this, not now with Kilgrave still somewhere out there.
"This," I reiterated slowly, cautiously. "Sitting here, like this, with you."
It was a moment before Matt said, "I like this, too."
I smiled warmly as my attention returned to the television show. The contestants were making a turkey dish now.
"So no cheesy Christmas romance movie tonight?" Matt asked, catching my attention.
"No," I said, laughing against his shoulder. "Not tonight. We just have some Thanksgiving cookoff. And honestly the potato dish that one guy made in the last round sounded really damn good."
Matt's chest vibrated beneath me with his chuckle. I felt his hand land on my head, softly running his fingers through my hair. My eyes slowly fell closed, reveling in the unfamiliar feeling of such a sweet touch. My body felt like it was melting against his on the couch with the way his fingertips lightly dragged across my scalp before sliding their way down my blonde strands. And then his hand rose and repeated the motion, deliberate and comforting with the way his fingertips gently touched me. A faint sigh left my traitorous mouth, but I was too relaxed to feel embarrassed at the moment.
"What's your favorite Thanksgiving dish?" he suddenly asked.
My eyes immediately flew open, my stomach twisting at his question. My body stiffened as images of my cell at The Facility came back to me followed by many Thanksgivings spent heating up a frozen pizza, alone in my apartment in Alaska. A deep frown crossed my lips, my hands tightening into fists against him.
"I uhm…I've never had a Thanksgiving…before," I admitted quietly. "Or anyone to celebrate with."
His hand paused for a moment in my hair before it resumed its ministrations. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "Maybe this year we'll have to change that. Foggy, Karen, and I were thinking about getting together and doing something. If you'd like to join, I'm sure they'd love you to. I know I would."
I tilted my head up towards him, taking in the serious expression on his face as he stared down at me. He had no idea what he was offering me–connection, friendship, acceptance, hope. Hope that things could be different here in New York for me.
"I'd like that. Thank you," I whispered, voice thick with emotion.
He leaned forward and pressed a warm, affectionate kiss to my forehead before pulling back and smiling down at me.
"So, Murdock, what's your favorite Thanksgiving dish then?" I asked abruptly, trying to change the topic and push my emotions back down.
"Well," he began, "believe it or not my dad made a mean pumpkin pie when I was a kid."
I laughed. "Did he now?"
"Yeah," he said, smiling fondly as he stared off towards the television. "Unfortunately neither Foggy nor I can bake, so I haven't had a good homemade pumpkin pie in a long time."
I snuggled in tighter against him, grinning. "Maybe this year we'll have to change that, too," I told him.
I felt him lean over and place a kiss in my hair. He pulled back just a fraction and murmured, "I'd like that. Thank you."
I could feel my heart begin racing in my chest at the feel of his lips against the top of my head. My eyes drifted closed again, relaxing into the feeling of safety with his strong, warm body beside me. I felt him shift slightly and heard the just barely audible grunt of discomfort. My eyes flew open and I pulled back, staring up at him for a moment, chewing my lip nervously.
"What?" he asked softly, his head turning towards me.
Fuck it.
I pulled away from him, noting the way his face fell and his eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"What're you–"
"Turn," I ordered him firmly.
My hands landed on his left arm and shoulder, lightly tugging on him. He made a confused noise and I pulled against him harder. Eventually he shifted, grimacing a little. I slid my right leg up on the couch, maneuvering it between the back of the couch and the right side of his body, the front of him now facing the armrest. I carefully slid myself in behind him on the couch with him between my legs, the position similar to how he'd been with me when I'd woken up from my nightmare awhile ago. I tried hard to ignore how he felt with my thighs trapping him between me and his ass now just barely pressed against the front of me.
He turned back over his shoulder, brows still deeply furrowed in confusion as he looked back at me. Forcing myself to just be bold–and telling myself this was definitely not meant to be sexual–I carefully placed my hands flat against his upper back before sliding them up towards his shoulders. My hands began to knead the tight muscles in his shoulders. His reaction was almost immediate; a sound like a sigh and a moan blew roughly out of his mouth as he drooped forward into himself, shoulders slumping under my hands.
Swallowing hard, I quietly explained, "Your muscles are tight. I told you I noticed it earlier but I can't heal sore muscles with my abilities."
My hands worked their way towards his neck, squeezing and working the tension out as they moved. His head dropped forward, chin to his chest, moaning faintly as my hands worked up his neck and the base of his skull.
"You don't…don't have to do that," he mumbled.
"Like I said," I told him, my voice sounding breathless and not the light and joking tone I'd intended, "someone should make sure the neighborhood vigilante is taken care of."
My fingers continually worked up his neck, feeling him slacken under my touch as another low moan left him. His hands suddenly dropped down, each one landing on one of my knees and gently squeezing them. I bit my lip, fighting to focus on giving him a massage and working out his tense muscles, trying hard to pay attention to the food competition on the television and not the growing warm ache between my thighs.
It wasn't working.
His hands tightened even further on my knees and I bit my lip harder. A sharp, shaky exhale blew out of my nose as my heart picked up its pace. Internally I willed it to stop, my attention turning towards the television as my hands focused back on his broad shoulders. They were in a dessert round now.
Just focus on the damn pie on TV, Olivia. Stop thinking about him between your legs.
My eyes clamped shut as I felt my arousal growing, knowing full well Matt would be even more aware of it than myself. I tried to exhale slowly as my hands slid down his shoulders, firmly working the muscles of his biceps. But then the image of Matt shirtless sitting on my bed earlier flashed through my mind and my breath caught in my throat. I felt Matt's body tense under my hands and against the front of me. My grip tightened on his arms for a moment involuntarily before I quickly slid them back up to his shoulders and then to his upper back, trying to focus on massaging another part of him. His hands slid up just a fraction on both of my legs, his firm grip now on the upper part of my thighs just above my knee. I felt like I couldn't breathe.
You're dumb for lying to yourself and saying this wasn't sexual. He is LITERALLY between your legs and you're LITERALLY rubbing your hands all over his body.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My eyes drifted up towards the ceiling, praying for my body to just calm down and stop betraying me to Matt.
How is one man doing this to me?
I felt him suddenly sit up straight as if he'd abruptly recovered from some sort of trance the massage had relaxed him into. My eyes landed back on him and I felt him release my thighs from his hold. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on my chin. He swallowed hard a few times, his throat moving quite visibly with the movement.
He cleared his throat quickly before speaking, his voice deep and husky as he did. "Thank you for…taking care of me tonight, Liv." My body shivered involuntarily at the sudden nickname. "I should probably let you sleep. It's late."
My hands stopped on his back and I slowly lowered them to my lap.
"Yeah, okay," I agreed quietly, removing my legs from around him and scooting back on the couch. "It is late."
He rose to his feet and nervously I rose to mine beside him, crossing my arms over my chest as if that could help cover the sound of my racing pulse.
"Thanks for…checking on me," I told him awkwardly. "...again."
His mouth pulled up at the corners in a smile. He reached out, briefly cupping my chin, his thumb grazing my bottom lip. My arms tightened around myself in anticipation of something, but he dropped his hand as a pained look crossed his face.
We can't. Not with Kilgrave still out there. He knows that, too.
A dejected sigh left me as he turned and headed towards the front door. I followed behind him, unlocking it and opening it for him when we reached it. He stepped forward, pausing in the threshold.
"Goodnight, Olivia," he whispered.
"Goodnight, Matt," I answered back.
And then he went into the hallway and headed to his apartment. I shut the door behind him, locking it. I ran my hands down my face a few times, trying to calm down. My body was still aroused, still reacting to everything about him tonight.
With a huff I turned off the television and headed to my room. Sleep, that's what I needed.
I crawled into my bed and tried to get comfortable. I tossed and turned in the sheets a few times, feeling restless and all too aware of the warm, needy ache between my thighs. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes tight in frustration, willing myself to relax.
Matt's shirtless body flashed before my mind; the ripple of muscle I'd seen earlier– felt under my hands as I healed him. Massaged him. I bit my lip, unable to stop the curiosity that grew in me of what it would feel like to massage his bare chest and back under my hands. To hear what sounds he would make.
My hand had slid down into my panties, between my thighs before I'd even realized. As my mind recalled that dark, hungry look on his face and the moans he had softly made as I massaged him, my hands continued to work inside myself, trying to find some release from the growing tension deep inside me. Briefly I thought I heard a loud bang from across the hall, but the image of Matt between my legs, his fingers inside of me, had me arching back into the sheets and moaning.
I was panting hard, my breath loud in my empty bedroom as I continued to finger myself. I pictured Matt in his black outfit, the dark mask on his face obscuring everything but his mouth. And that mouth–that mouth between my thighs, his tongue warm and wet.
His name rolled from my lips, something between a curse and a moan all in one, as I felt myself finally release the tension that had been growing deep in me all night because of him. Another loud noise faintly registered in my mind as I came down, trying to catch my breath. When my mind was working again, I realized that I'd heard a few loud bangs from Matt's apartment.
I swallowed hard, brow furrowing as my eyes glanced to my phone on the nightstand. Did I ignore it or did I check on him? Another loud bang from across the hall had me reaching for my phone, scanning my recent call list for his name. My finger hovered over it for a moment, trying to catch my breath and rid myself of the embarrassment of having just done that while thinking about him and then calling him after. I groaned staring at his name; maybe I was being stupid. He had to be fine.
What if someone attacked him in his apartment? Or he tripped and fell and hurt himself?
I pushed the contact, holding the phone to my ear as I ran my hands nervously through my hair. The phone rang five times and just as I was about to hang up, contemplating checking on him, he suddenly answered.
"Olivia?" he asked, confusion and something else mingled in his voice.
"I uh…" I began, closing my eyes and trying not to think about what I'd just been picturing. I could hear him breathing heavily through the phone. "Are you okay?" I blurted out. "I thought I heard…banging or something? I just…wanted to make sure you were okay?"
"I…I'm fine," he panted out, his voice sounding strained.
"You don't…sound fine…" I told him. "You sound out of breath."
He huffed something that sounded almost like a chuckle before he groaned over the line. I heard a light thud shortly after.
"You're going to be the death of me, Olivia Allen," he breathed out.
I swallowed hard, my brows knitting together at his words. "What?" I asked him.
"I tried…really I did," he told me, his voice low and quick. "Normally I tune everything out, and I really tried but I…"
He paused and my brain was racing, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
Tune everything out? What was he–oh. Oh shit.
My hand flew to my face in embarrassment, my cheeks flaming when I had understood. He'd heard me just now in my room, touching myself while thinking of him. Moaning his name .
Shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I tried not to but…it's like I was so tuned in to you when I left that I couldn't shake you from my senses. It's like you overwhelmed me–your scent, your breath, the tossing and turning in your sheets. The…noises you were making after." He inhaled sharply and my cheeks burned further. "Please say something," he begged, his breath still coming in heavy.
I tried to bury my face in my hand further, tried to disappear, but I couldn't. As if it wasn't enough to know he could tell I was aroused–feel it, smell it, taste it–now he'd heard me.
"I…" I started, voice quiet as I shook my head. "I am…definitely embarrassed."
"If it…makes you feel better, you're not alone," he admitted. "Not the embarrassed part, but the uh… other part."
"What?"
"You weren't the only one who uh…needed a…" he paused, clearing his throat before he finished, "release."
Did he just…admit that he'd gotten off to me? The warmth that had been flooding my cheeks suddenly flew farther south on my body at the information.
"That…was the banging?" I asked him hesitantly.
He cleared his throat again, his breathing sounding a bit more even. "Yeah, I uh…tried not to but I…couldn't…"
"Oh," I said, the word coming out more as a surprised sound.
"You're probably upset with me now, for all of that," he rambled on suddenly. "I'm sorry, it was wrong of me and I shouldn't have–"
"No," I said, cutting him off quickly and then wincing. "I mean," I began, backpedaling a bit, "I'm definitely embarrassed that you uh…heard that? But…from what you've said before I suppose it's not all in your…control." I swallowed hard, scratching the top of my head. "But I'm…" I trailed off, biting my lip.
"You're…?" he prompted eagerly.
"I'm…a little relieved to know that it wasn't just me," I blurted out.
He chuckled lightly on his end. "It's definitely not. You were sufficiently working me up most of the night, probably without even realizing it, sweetheart."
I licked my lips at the term of endearment, my eyes closing briefly, wondering what it would sound like to hear him whisper it–
Nope, that's how we got in this mess.
I cleared my throat awkwardly. "I uhm…I'm sorry. Just sort of…having a hard time keeping my distance," I admitted.
"Yeah, you're not the only one," he mumbled, his tone sounding pained. "But you should actually get some sleep."
"Yeah," I agreed, nodding slowly. "You're right."
"Goodnight, Liv," he said gently.
My mouth pulled up into a faint smile. "Goodnight again, Matt."
I could hear the smirk in his voice when he said, "I hope you have good dreams this time." A brief pause. "Just maybe not too good, okay?"
"Oh my God," I grumbled, burying my face in my hand again as he laughed lightly. " Goodnight , Matt," I said firmly.
"Sweet dreams, Liv," he told me, a smile apparent in his voice.
I hung up, sighing as I placed my phone back on the nightstand. Settling back into my sheets, I muttered to myself, "You attractive and charming ass, Matt."
A moment later my phone buzzed. Frowning, I turned over, grabbing my phone. I spotted a text from Matt.
3:47 AM I heard that
I rolled my eyes, laughing a little. "Maybe you should stop spying on me now, the show's over buddy," I whispered.
3:47 AM Goodnight sweetheart
I smiled, placing the phone back on the nightstand before rolling over in my bed and getting comfortable.
God damn that man and what he does to me.