Matt Murdock's 1/6 scale Apartment

“Spit it out, sweetheart.”

You smirked as you looked up from your sketchpad.  “That’s not what you told me half an hour ago.  Swallow every drop, you said.”

A flush of pink crept into Matt’s face and you bit your lip, amused. 

Your favourite time to sketch Matt was first thing in the morning, when he was asleep or drowsing.  Your second favourite, were times like this, straight after sex.  In both cases, he was always so wonderfully relaxed that he was a pleasure to work with.  Sadly, a rarity for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

But he looked nothing like a devil now.  More like an angel, as he lay stretched out on the sofa in his dove-grey boxers, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his perfect abs.  Sunlight streaming in through the massive windows of his apartment completed the celestial imagery.  

“I know you’ve got something on your mind,” he persisted, turning slightly to look towards you. 

“Don’t move!” You scolded.  “I’m working on your face right now!”

He quickly stared back up at the ceiling.  “Tell me or I’ll get up.”

“That would be very mean of you,” you threw back as you frantically penciled in his profile.  

“You’re not usually this anxious while you sketch. Your heart has been racing on and off since you started."

“Your body always makes my heart race,” you deflected with a forced smile. 

“Not like this.”

“You can tell the difference?”

“Yeah.”

You swallowed nervously.  You did have something on your mind, something you had wanted to ask Matt for a while now. But you had never known quite how to broach the subject, or how the hell he’d react. You also knew that the moment you asked it, he’d most certainly get up.

“Just let me finish and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me now.  Get it off your chest.  You’re not enjoying what you’re doing and it spoils the experience for me.”

You looked across at him in surprise.

“You’re usually so relaxed when you sketch that I find it soothing.”

Your twitch of a smile was genuine this time.  “I didn’t know that.”

With a sigh, you finally put down your sketchpad and pencil. “Problem is, once I tell you, I don’t think you’ll feel relaxed anymore.”

He was already starting to sit up but fortunately, you had sketched enough of him to add the rest from memory. 

He patted the space beside him.  “C’mere.”

He looked so gorgeous you were half tempted to distract him with sex again, but as you stood up and walked across to the sofa you didn’t think you’d be able to muster the energy.  You were already worn out from earlier. 

“Sweetheart,” he rushed in concern as you sat down. “Your heart is racing so fast it’s starting to worry me now. What the hell’s the matter?”

You knew you were making mountains out of molehills. You had a terrible tendency to do that.  It wasn’t as if you were asking to sleep with Frank!  He and Matt got along well enough these days, more so since Frank started going out with Karen.  Surely there wouldn’t be a problem with it?  Not that you needed Matt’s permission.  But you wanted his blessing.  Or as close to it as you could get.  

You took a deep breath.  “It’s about Frank.”

Matt frowned.  “What about Frank?”

His reaction made you hesitate. Maybe there was still a bit of friction between them.

“Tell me,” he insisted, and though it was the devil talking now, the angel still lingered, reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. 

You squared your shoulders, knowing you had reached the point of no return. 

“I…I want him to pose for me.”

************************

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You hadn’t seen much of Buck after he had enlisted in the army at seventeen. It didn’t help that he vowed never to return to Kessilton Manor after his mother’s death a year later, which meant his leave was always spent anywhere but home.  You tried to get together every few months, but it was unpredictable at the best of times, and when you finally did manage it, it was always the three of you. These phone calls were the only alone time you ever got with Buck.

They had started about six years ago when Simon had asked you to be his plus-one at a cousin’s wedding. Miraculously, Buck had also managed to attend and when Simon had become distracted by a beautiful pre-Raphaelite looking redhead, you and Buck had found yourself in unfamiliar territory, practically alone together. It had been wonderful to really catch up and rekindle your friendship. There had even been some mild flirting at the evening reception until Simon had rejoined you with his Lady of Shallot, eager to introduce you to his latest muse.

Buck had called you a week later though, and you had continued to teasingly reminisce, but as time passed you began to suspect that his need was far greater than yours, that he was hankering for an outlet, to lose himself in the idilic past you had shared before the Cashman world had been turned upside down.  His military work was top secret, never discussed, but you feared it must have a dark side for him to be so desperate to seek out the light of happier times.  While his calls were dishearteningly sporadic due to the clandestine nature of his job, it was something, a renewed connection.  And despite Simon’s warnings, you clung to your unconventional relationship as much as Buck did, because deep down, you had always loved him. 

You loved Simon too.  More than Buck, truth be told, but it was a different kind of love.  He was like a brother and best friend all rolled into one.  Buck had started out that way but teenage hormones had steered it another, and once those feelings had manifested, there had been no going back. Your meagre scattering of short-lived boyfriends over the years, who could never quite reach the impossible pedestal you had placed Buck on, were testament of that. 

Simon was watching you intently, waiting.

You wondered how much of Buck’s phone call to tell him, and how much to keep to yourself.  You shared most things with Simon, except your true feelings for Buck.  He had probably long suspected, but had never broached the subject.  All he did was occasionally poke fun at how incredibly overprotectiveness you were of his big brother.

Your thoughts returned to the early hours of last night.  Your phone waking you at a little after 4am, your sleep-heavy eyes widening in surprise when you saw Buck’s name.   

“Buck?”  Panic bubbled up through your drowsiness.  “Is everything ok?”

When he didn’t answer your concerns rose.

“Buck?”

“Christ, sorry Raggy.  You were sleeping…”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. 

“…I forgot about the bloody timezones.”

You smiled your relief.  You could just imagine him slapping his forehead when it had dawned on him.  “Yes, you bloody did,” you chided playfully, relaxing again.  “Cut short a really good dream too.”

“Want me to go…?”

Dragging yourself up in bed you leaned back against the headboard.  “No, I want to know all about this Raggy business. That’s a blast from the past. You haven’t called me it in years.”

“Only if you tell me more about this dream.  Was I in it?”

The huskiness of his tone hummed through your languid senses.  “I asked you first.”

He exhaled slowly.  “Feeling somewhat nostalgic tonight…”

Your chest tightened, immediately recognising the signs.  Something was up. 

“Evidently!”  Your happiness triggered a pang of guilt when he was obviously not ok, but just hearing his voice again made you giddy.  These calls were so few and far between, and you always felt too self-conscious to call him, worried that you’d interrupt something important, or come across too pushy.  “Sentimental fool!” 

He huffed out a laugh. “Charming!”

“It’s funny really.  I used to hate that nickname, but now I kinda miss it.”  You recalled the memory with a rueful smile.  “Remember how we used to call Simon Si-Baby.  I still do sometimes, when he’s getting exasperated with a sculpture.”

“Yes, he was rather prone to the ole waterworks.”

You couldn’t deny it.  Simon had been a sensitive little boy.  It hadn’t taken much to make him cry, though Buck was usually the cause. It wasn’t that Buck had been a bully, just your typical overbearing big brother.  But you always noticed the difference when it had just been you and Simon together.  He had been a lot more chilled and self-assured.

“Only because you were constantly making him do press ups!  Or forcing him to go on hour long manoeuvres!”

Buck had always been obsessed with the military.  It hadn’t been his mother’s death that had forced him onto that path, it had been his Sergeant Major uncle who had inspired and encouraged him from a young age.  When he wasn’t persuading you and Simon to go out on missions during the holidays, he had been an active participant of the *CCF at boarding school, and always planned on enlisting in the army the second he was old enough.

The rumble of Buck’s laugh was deep and wicked.  “You were game enough.”

“I liked getting out into the countryside.”

“I imagine you still do.”  The sudden tenderness in his tone sent a rush of warmth through you. 

“Yes, but with an easel these days, not a water gun!” 

“Ah, I have such fond memories of the Supersoaker!”

“You were a bloody menace!” 

“Oh, don’t give me that, Raggy, you loved it.”  

“If you persist with that nickname, I’m going to have to start calling you Rogers again to even the score.  You used to hate that as much as I hated Raggy.”

“Please don’t!”  he threw back good-humouredly.  “I had enough of the sci-fi jokes at boarding school.  It wasn’t easy being the first Buck in the school’s three hundred year old history.”

“And the last, I expect!”  You chipped in with a grin.  “But you were named after your grandfather, weren’t you?” 

“Aye, the Buchanans,” he returned in a sexy Scottish accent that made you tingle. 

“I remember him visiting once. He was such a big booming friendly man.  Dad was on cloud nine for days after he complimented him on the garden.”

“Your quintessential Scott,” Buck fondly agreed.

“Yeah.”

As you both took a moment to gather your thoughts, you felt a twinge of disappointment. 

“You haven’t called in ages.”

He answered with a deflated sigh.  “It’s not that I haven’t wanted to.”  

You sensed he was walking but you couldn’t hear any outside noises, which meant he was probably moving restlessly around his apartment.  Always a sign that something was playing on his mind.  “I’ve…been busy.”

“With the mayor?”  You prompted hopefully.  “How is New York?”

“Ambitious.”

Your brow twitched at his ambiguous reply. As per usual when you so much as mentioned his job. 

“Well, they do call it the city that never sleeps.”

“That’s because it’s so bloody noisy.”

“I saw a picture of you on the internet, standing beside the mayor.  Looking very dashing in your suit.  You reminded me a bit of James Bond.”

You winced at your words, pressing your fingers against your lips sheepishly.  

“Ooops…did I say that out loud?”

When the silence stretched again you feared you had said the wrong thing.  

“Oh Raggy, you don’t change at all…”  

His voice, suddenly so thick with emotion, took you by surprise. 

“Er…is that a good or bad thing?”

“Good, you idiot,” he threw back, composure almost, but not quite restored. 

You tutted.  “So, you not only wake me in the middle of the night, you also call me an idiot.”

“You called me a fool.”

“Then I guess we’re quits.” 

“I guess we are,” he returned roguishly, making you smile.

During the companionable lull that followed you debated whether or not to resume your futile struggle down the work route, but he spoke again.

“How have you been?”

“Good.”

“And the painting?”

“Even better.  I’ve been getting a lot more commissions lately.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  And how is Michelangelo?”  He ribbed affectionately.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if he was in the studio right now.  The man never sleeps!  He’s working on a bust of the Greek god Pan at the moment.”

“The horned god,” you heard Buck murmur.  “How fitting.”

“Huh?”

“How are your parents?”  he swiftly parried, and you frowned.  

“Good too.  We’re all good.” 

You took a deep breath.  “But how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?  Because it’s not like you to forget a detail like timezones.  You’re always so -”

“I’m fine…” he maintained, more firmly this time, and yet almost apologetic.  “Living the dream…” 

You felt a wave of frustration as you stared up into the shadows of the ceiling, wondering if he even realised how feigned and hollow his words sounded. You had long accepted that Buck preferred to keep his troubles to himself, but his constant evasiveness was really starting to wear thin.

Rubbing at your tired eyes, you fretted over how much longer this odd little relationship could survive on nostalgia alone.

“Hey.  You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” Buck teased softly, misinterpreting your hesitation.  

“You’re not, you know…” you blurted, night’s headiness lowering your inhibitions, suddenly making you feel bolder.  “You’re not fine…”

Your heart started hammering in your chest. 

“…you haven’t been for a long time…”

You squeezed your eyes shut, immediately regretting your words, but now that the floodgates were finally open, you ploughed on relentlessly.

“…And I’m sorry to sound so…so…needy…but I wish, just for once, you’d let me in…”

“Needy?  God, Raggy, don’t you dare think that…”  he forced out hoarsely.  “Don’t you dare apologise…I don’t know what I’d -” 

When he faltered, you swore you could hear the shallowness of his breath in unison with yours.

“…I don’t know what I’d do without you…you’re the only -”

He stopped again, continuing to wrestle his words, a hairsbreadth away from his own floodgate.  Though you were thousands of miles apart, the tension in the air suddenly became so palpable you could barely breathe.

The only what?

You swallowed hard and waited but he stubbornly held his tongue.

“I want to be here for you now Buck, in the present,” you persisted impatiently.  “Not just the past…” 

The crunch of a chair seat preceded his weary sigh. “My world is…complicated.” 

His words reminded you of something Simon had said once, not long after that wedding where you and Buck had reconnected.

I love my brother, but he’s complicated.  He always has been.  Promise me you’ll keep loving him like a brother too.  Promise me you’ll never fall in love with him. 

But it had been far too late to heed his warning by then.  You had fallen for Buck long before that day.  And quite literally, from the branches of your favourite climbing tree, straight into his arms.  You wondered if he even remembered.  That you had called him your knight in shining armour.  It seemed another lifetime ago.  You had only been thirteen.

“Then uncomplicate it,” you returned a little desperately, wishing, with all your heart, that Buck would just end this pointless feud with his father and start coming home again.  You knew the man regretted the affair, that he had never stopped blaming himself for his wife’s death.  

Buck’s silence had an unsettling edge to it this time, and when he finally answered, inhaling sharply, his apparent amusement sent a shiver down your spine.  “Do or die…” he murmured cryptically, tone weighted with resignation.  “Do or die.”

You blinked back to the studio to see a softer, lighter version of Buck still watching you expectantly.  

“We reminisced like we always do,” you started to tell Simon.  "He was cagey about work like he always is.”  You took a steeling breath.  “And then I might have accidentally asked him to…open up a bit.” 

“Uh-oh.”

“It was the middle of the night, Si!  I was half asleep!  I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Ok, ok, keep your hair on!  What did he say to that?”

“That his world was complicated.”

“Yeah, that's Buck in a nutshell.” 

“But when I suggested he uncomplicated it -” 

Simon groaned.  “You really weren’t thinking straight, were you.”

“When I suggested he uncomplicated it,” you repeated, glaring at him. “He got all intense on me. Used this weird phrase - do or die.”

Simon’s face paled slightly.  “Did he say anything after that?”

“Not a lot.”  You shrugged miserably.  “He became apologetic again and insisted on me getting back to my beauty sleep.  I said I was happy to keep talking if he wanted to but he was adamant.  I felt that whatever was preying on his mind, I had somehow made things worse.”

You struggled to rein in your emotions.  “I thought things would be different when Buck started working for the mayor, especially after so many years of classified this and top secret that.  I thought he’d share more. But he still seems as reluctant as ever to talk about work.”

“I know.  I thought the same.”

“His words frightened me, Si,” you admitted, feeling cold, despite the studio’s warmth.  “What does that actually mean, Do or die? I’ve heard the saying but -”

“It means it’s about time I paid my brother a visit,” Simon declared, mirroring your concerns.  

You gaped at him in surprise.  “What?  Go to New York?”

“Why not?  I haven’t seen Buck since he started working for the mayor and I haven’t been to the Big Apple since we were kids.”  His expression turned poignant.  “Back when mother was alive. When we were still a family.”  He perked up a little.  “I can check out all the amazing galleries at the same time.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you!  Unless…”

“Unless what?”

You gave him a pleading look.  “Unless you take me with you…”

“You’re terrified of flying!”

The mere thought of stepping onto an aeroplane was already making you feel nauseous.  “I’ll bear it for Buck!”

He shook his head, amused.  “You should put that on a t-shirt and wear it on the plane.”

“Ha ha, very funny.  But does that mean I can come?”

“We’ll talk about it later, I have to get this bust finished. Especially now I need to arrange a trip to the states.”  When he turned back to Pan, you remembered Buck’s mumbled words, curious to know how a horned god would be fitting in his complicated world. 

Facing your own work again you sighed beneath your breath. You still weren’t in the mood for painting.  The possibility of seeing Buck again had flooded your stomach with butterflies, and they were making you antsy.  Fidgeting on your stool you started chewing at your thumbnail. 

“Are you ever going to stop pining for Buck?”

You looked back at Simon with a start and he frowned sympathetically.  “I’m not blind, Raggy.”

It felt somehow soothing that both the Cashman brothers had used your old nickname now, like the past was trickling back into your lives, reconnecting you all again. 

“I’m not pining for Buck,” you lied.  “I just…miss him sometimes.”

“I know you do.  We all do.”  Despite his supportive smile, you could tell that he remained unconvinced.  He knew you too well. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive your father.”

“Who knows with Buck.  He’s always been a stubborn bastard.”  

He stared forward, out through the windows, at the trees swayed gently in the breeze.  “I can’t say I’ve ever forgiven him myself, to be honest.  I just don’t make it quite so obvious.”

“Oh Si…”

He turned to meet your gaze again.  “Don’t get me wrong, I love my father, and I know that he’s still plagued by guilt even now.  But I also know that what he did…the consequences of what he did…really fucked Buck up.”

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you short. 

“It didn’t do me a hell of a lot of good either, but when my father shut himself away in his study, and the silence of the house became too much to bear, I had a kind surrogate family living literally at the bottom of the garden, giving me all the TLC I needed.”

You felt a swell of pride.  It was true.  Your parents had taken Simon under their wing after his mother’s death; had loved him like a son.  They still did. 

“But Buck never had that because he refused to return home after the funeral. He could have taken Compassionate Leave but he chose not to.  Instead, he pushed away everyone who wanted to help him.  Chose to battle his demons alone.  And I don’t imagine the army was the best place to do that.”  

He watched you with a fierce, quiet protectiveness.  “You can come to New York with me on one condition.”

You sat up taller on your stool, watching him hopefully. 

“I’ll pay.  Air fare, hotel, the lot.”

Your eyes blurred with tears.  “Thank you, Si.” 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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“Spit it out, sweetheart.”

You smirked as you looked up from your sketchpad.  “That’s not what you told me half an hour ago.  Swallow every drop, you said.”

A flush of pink crept into Matt’s face and you bit your lip, amused. 

Your favourite time to sketch Matt was first thing in the morning, when he was asleep or drowsing.  Your second favourite, were times like this, straight after sex.  In both cases, he was always so wonderfully relaxed that he was a pleasure to work with.  Sadly, a rarity for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

But he looked nothing like a devil now.  More like an angel, as he lay stretched out on the sofa in his dove-grey boxers, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his perfect abs.  Sunlight streaming in through the massive windows of his apartment completed the celestial imagery.  

“I know you’ve got something on your mind,” he persisted, turning slightly to look towards you. 

“Don’t move!” You scolded.  “I’m working on your face right now!”

He quickly stared back up at the ceiling.  “Tell me or I’ll get up.”

“That would be very mean of you,” you threw back as you frantically penciled in his profile.  

“You’re not usually this anxious while you sketch. Your heart has been racing on and off since you started."

“Your body always makes my heart race,” you deflected with a forced smile. 

“Not like this.”

“You can tell the difference?”

“Yeah.”

You swallowed nervously.  You did have something on your mind, something you had wanted to ask Matt for a while now. But you had never known quite how to broach the subject, or how the hell he’d react. You also knew that the moment you asked it, he’d most certainly get up.

“Just let me finish and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me now.  Get it off your chest.  You’re not enjoying what you’re doing and it spoils the experience for me.”

You looked across at him in surprise.

“You’re usually so relaxed when you sketch that I find it soothing.”

Your twitch of a smile was genuine this time.  “I didn’t know that.”

With a sigh, you finally put down your sketchpad and pencil. “Problem is, once I tell you, I don’t think you’ll feel relaxed anymore.”

He was already starting to sit up but fortunately, you had sketched enough of him to add the rest from memory. 

He patted the space beside him.  “C’mere.”

He looked so gorgeous you were half tempted to distract him with sex again, but as you stood up and walked across to the sofa you didn’t think you’d be able to muster the energy.  You were already worn out from earlier. 

“Sweetheart,” he rushed in concern as you sat down. “Your heart is racing so fast it’s starting to worry me now. What the hell’s the matter?”

You knew you were making mountains out of molehills. You had a terrible tendency to do that.  It wasn’t as if you were asking to sleep with Frank!  He and Matt got along well enough these days, more so since Frank started going out with Karen.  Surely there wouldn’t be a problem with it?  Not that you needed Matt’s permission.  But you wanted his blessing.  Or as close to it as you could get.  

You took a deep breath.  “It’s about Frank.”

Matt frowned.  “What about Frank?”

His reaction made you hesitate. Maybe there was still a bit of friction between them.

“Tell me,” he insisted, and though it was the devil talking now, the angel still lingered, reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. 

You squared your shoulders, knowing you had reached the point of no return. 

“I…I want him to pose for me.”

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Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! xx

Daniel shakes his head. “Dont worry your pretty head about it, only reason is ‘cause you're here.”

That was not the answer you had been expecting, not at all. “Me?! But why would he be tense if I'm here? He's got no reason to be!”

“Oh he just wants everything to be perfect. Everyone thinks he's so calm and cool and collected all the time but- you know he's got that lil bit in him that wants to please, don't ya?”

You relax a little, throwing Daniel a knowing smile. “Oh, believe me, I do.”

You down one of the many remaining shots for yourself before resolving to do something about Buck being so on edge.

“Daniel, you wouldn't happen to know of any quieter, more secluded areas in this place would you?”

“Well yeah, but why d’ya wanna- “

You start to raise an eyebrow but Daniel gets there all on his own. “Wait- ohh. Okay, okay, say less doll…”

Some moments later Daniel has managed to lure Buck into one of the rooms he recommended under false pretenses and so he's slightly surprised when he sees you standing there waiting for him.

“Sweetie, what's going on? Are you alright, what's the matter?”

“Not until you tell me what's the matter with you?” You say, already knowing what he'll respond with.

“Nothing, I'm fine.”

“Buck, you're not fine. You move closer to him. “You've got that frowny wrinkle between your eyebrows when you're stressed that you think I don't notice.”

He rolls his eyes as you smooth your fingers over them, you feel the cool puff of breath he lets out in a brief sigh. “I'm fine. Are you having a fun evening with Daniel?”

“I am, but stop deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting, I need to get back to the ballroom, the Mayor will be looking for me.”

“He won't miss you for fifteen minutes, Buck. You work too hard, you deserve a break.”

“Darling-”

He's cut short as you hike up the length of your dress and sink down onto your knees in front of him, his hands might be quick on the draw but yours are quicker as you deftly unzip the fly of his jet black slacks, take his cock in your hand, pull it out and put your mouth around him all before he can hiss a terse fuck through his gritted teeth.

He fumbles for the stability of the wall behind him as you easily get him hard, sliding your tongue and lips over him while your hand strokes the rest. He's got the perfect view down on your tempting decolletage, and the way you're looking up at him through your lashes as you blow him in a side room while the biggest event of the mayoral calendar is playing out nearby has Buck reeling. You hum as you feel him giving in, starting to relax. The act of him relinquishing power to you drives your arousal higher and you can't resist slipping your fingers under the slinky fabric of your dress and into your underwear to find some relief.

Buck bites down hard on his fist to stifle his moan as he watches you. It's always hotter than hell when you take control of your own pleasure, but when you're doing that at the same time as taking care of his?

You can taste him on your tongue already, you know this won't take long. He's fighting back the urge to thrust his cock into your throat as you slide your lips slowly off his tip while you keep jerking him off so you can speak.

“Fuck my mouth, c’mon Buck, I want you to. I want to walk back into that room with your come sliding down my throat.”

“Jesus fucking Christ…”

You take him as far in as you can, your hands resting on his hips while he punches them forward per your request. You gag slightly when he speeds up, spit rolling down your chin as he takes what you're offering him. You'll have to remember to fix your lipstick afterwards.

Buck can't get enough of the way you look right now- utterly dishevelled with a ravenous hunger in your eyes as you suck him off. You really are something else.

His thrusts quickly become erratic, breathing sharp and stuttered and then you're suddenly swallowing down the warm pulses of his release as he crumples, groaning as he slides part-way down the wall at the force of his orgasm.

You're careful not to spill a drop as you pull off of him, wiping the corner of your mouth delicately with your thumb, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. “Feeling better now?” You ask innocently.

He almost can't believe your nerve, you were the only one that could ever catch him off-guard, and that was part of why he adored you.

“Y-you're crazy…and I love you” Buck pants, managing a sly smirk.

You just lick your lips and smile. “I love you too.”

He laughs as he makes himself decent, and holds out his hands to help you to your feet.

“You shouldn't be worried about me being here, you know.” you say, smoothing out your dress.

“I'm not!”

“Bullshit Cashman, you were wound up so tight out there. You forget I know you, and besides, Daniel told me.

“Bloody Daniel…” He mutters as he tries to neaten his tie and shrugs in defeat. “I just want everything to be perfect for you-”

Your fingers reach to his collar to help. “Everything is perfect baby, and it doesn't matter anyway, all I care about is you, Buck.”

“C’mere,” he says, his fingers gently grasping your chin as he leans in to kiss you. It's not a chaste kiss either, it's full of every ounce of his passion for you, not caring that he's tasting himself on your tongue. You can't help feeling giddy when you finally part, there's always a promise of something more in the way he kisses you.

“Let's go back in, I think I owe Daniel a drink or two.”

“Yes, and I think you owe me a dance!” you tease.

He takes your hand and leads you back towards the ballroom doors. “I owe you far more than that love, later…when I get you home.” he throws you a wink and you feel heat flush to the surface of your skin.

“Later huh? Hmm, and what if I said I wanted an early night?”

“Then,” he swings you in closer to his body, resting his hands on your waist. “I'd make my excuses and bring the car around.”

You hang your arms around his neck and shoulders. “Well I can't wait to hear what they are…” you purr next to his ear.