#nmcu daredevil

He was more than pissed, especially when he could guess what you’d been doing before you left based on the scent of your arousal lingering in the air. He followed it to his bedroom, where he ran a hand across his bed, feeling the rumpled sheets beneath his fingers. Cursing his misfortune, and wanting you back here, in his bed, Matt let out a frustrated snarl and left the room. He could hardly focus when all he could think about, smell, and practically taste all around him, was you.

Out in the kitchen, he was practically wearing a divot into the floorboards as he paced back-and-forth, hands resting on his hips, head tilted back, as he counted each second that passed. One minute turned to two, then five, and Matt’s agitation grew with each tick of the clock. He’d tried calling twice but you hadn’t picked up.

He slammed his hands on the counter, delighting a little in the pain that jarred his wrists because, for a moment, it took his mind off you. Loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt halfway, because it was suddenly too warm in his apartment, he stalked across the room and dropped onto the couch, legs spread wide as he leaned back against the cushions. 

With his head tilted to the ceiling, eyes closed, he tried to calm himself down. It was ridiculous, the way he was acting, but it was always hard to think clearly when it came to you. He’d never known desire the way he felt it with you, like he’d never get enough. Never imagined his resolve could crumble so quickly under the slightest touch of your hand or brush of your lips. And he was so wickedly selfish about it, wanting you all to himself; in his apartment, in his bed, under him. 

“Fuck’s sake,” he hissed through gritted teeth. His cock was straining so hard against the zipper of his pants that it had actually reached the point of being painful. Fiddling with the buckle of his belt, he lifted his hips a little so he could yank the strip of leather from the loops, letting it drop to the ground with a clatter.

It was then that he heard you. The stomp of your boots against the stairs, the thundering of your heart, and the curses you muttered under your breath.

"I swear to God, if he isn't in that fucking apartment."

Oh? The jingle of your keys set him into motion and he was at the door before you even had a chance to unlock it. Swinging it open, his hands found your waist and tugged you inside, slamming the door and pressing you up against it. 

"Matty, please," was all you could get out before he pounced. His lips were instantly on your neck, kissing, sucking, biting, and he was rutting his hips pathetically against yours. You whimpered, fingers in his hair, tugging at the root, as you arched into him, silently begging him to take, take, take.

"I could smell you," he moaned against your neck as you reached down to palm him through his pants. "So desperate. So riled. But you were gone."

You spun him around, tugging him toward the living room, his lips still trailing over your skin. Pushing him onto the couch, you knelt before him, fingers fumbling with the zipper on his pants.

"I went looking for you," you admitted, tugging his fly open and reaching into his boxers. His cock was achingly hard, practically throbbing in your hand, and the head was coated in a smear of pre-cum. 

"I tried so hard, Matty. To hold off until you got home. But I couldn't." You pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock, down the shaft, pumping him a few times. Matt was already halfway to falling apart, chest heaving, head tilted to the ceiling, muttering an endless mantra of 'oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.'

"And then I couldn't make myself cum. Didn't feel as good on my own. No one does it like you, Matty." 

Flattening your tongue against the base, you dragged it all the way upwards, circling the tip until Matt was bucking his hips, hands white-knuckled as he gripped the couch cushions.

"But when I got to the office, you weren't fucking there-"

"Please, Angel. Stop teasing."

Matt let out a guttural groan as you finally, finally, took his cock into your mouth. Taking it as deep as you could, until the dark curls at the base tickled your nose, and you swallowed around him then pulled back to take a breath.

Matt's hand flew to the back of your head, gripping your hair, as he grunted your name over and over, slowly losing his mind over the warmth of your mouth on his cock.  Bobbing your head, you worked whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand. Glancing up at Matt, the wave of power that rushed through you was intoxicating. Here he was, stern lawyer Matt Murdock, skilled vigilante, Daredevil; falling to pieces, a whimpering, moaning mess coming apart on your tongue.

His cock hit the back of your throat again, but then you were pulled away, Matt’s grip on your hair tightening.

“Get up here,” he growled. Matt moved out of the way so you could lay down, then climbed on top of you, caging you in. He tore at your blouse, not caring that he sent the buttons flying, he just needed you naked. Needed to feel your skin pebbled with goosebumps under his fingertips. 

“Lift your skirt, sweetheart,” he whispered, warm breath caressing the shell of your ear. You did as you were told, shimmying the fabric up your thighs until it was bunched around your middle. Bare to him now, thighs still sticky from when you’d try to get yourself off, Matt inhaled deeply and let out a low snarl.

“No underwear? Naughty.”

“Shut up, Murdock.” Grabbing his tie, you pulled him down to kiss you. Matt’s lips were soft against your own, slotting together like puzzle pieces, and he swallowed your moans as he slipped his fingers between your legs. 

“So wet for me,” he murmured, more to himself than you, and dipped two fingers inside you, testing the waters, placing his thumb against your clit. If there was one thing Matt loved more than anything in the world, it was the way you reacted to him; the little noises you made, the ones that got caught in your throat when he’d go down on you, or the way your heart would start to race if he wore button-ups with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, or when he’d ask you to help him get ready for work and your fingers would linger a little too long on his tie or his belt. On those days, it was almost impossible for him to think straight, especially when all he wanted to do was take you over his knee and spank you, or shove his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet as he fucked you against the wall. Getting out the door and going to work was the hardest thing in the world.

“Matthew,” you groaned, pushing your hips up against his hand.

“Hm?” 

“I’m so close, keep going.”

Matt hadn’t even realised, but while he’d been lost in his thoughts, he’d been pumping his fingers inside you, drawing tight circles on your clit with his thumb. And now, your walls were fluttering around his fingers, your hips bucking, chasing the friction. At the last second, Matt pulled his fingers out and placed a quick slap on your clit. You shattered completely, crying out his name, thighs trapping Matt as you tried to press them together.

Matt didn’t even give you time to come down from your high, didn’t wait for the tremors to stop wracking your body, before positioning his cock at your entrance and sliding home in one brutal thrust that had you both moaning. Your head fell back against the armrest, leaving your neck exposed to Matt, and he wasted no time in peppering it with open-mouthed kisses, nipping at the hollow of your throat.

You raked your nails down his back, knowing there’d be red marks for him to remember you by, and grabbed at his ass, pulling him deeper as you rolled your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. He’d started off slow, but the frustration that had been building within him all day had started to rear its head, and he couldn’t help but get rough. Pistoning into you, his hand snaked up to curl around your throat.

“This okay?”

“I can handle it, Matty,” you groaned, arching your back, chest pressed flush against his. “Take whatever you need. Whatever you want.”

“Oh, my angel,” he ran his thumb over the seam of your lips and you opened obediently for him. “You’re too good to me.” 

The couch creaked and groaned as Matt thrust into you, seeming to hit deeper and deeper every time. In true Matt fashion, what he took, he gave back. So while he wrung his pleasure from your trembling body, one hand around your throat, the other braced on the armrest to hold himself up, he gave you all he had. As each thrust pushed you closer to the edge, you lifted your legs a little and crossed your ankles, using your heels to drive Matt deeper. If that was even possible.

“Fuck, Matty, baby, fucking hell, right there,” you threaded your hands in his hair, pressing his forehead against yours, and squeezed your eyes shut. And Matt would’ve loved to be paying attention to every little whimper, squeak, and gasp that dripped from your lips, but the heavy thud of boots coming up the stairs drew his attention. Matt slowed, not wanting to take your orgasm away from you when you’d already had trouble getting there earlier, but the footsteps got closer. 

Then the scent hit him. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he growled, pulling his hand away from your throat and sliding it down to rub at your clit. He was desperate to make you cum before Frank came through the door, because Matt knew the bastard wouldn’t knock, but he wanted to take his time with you. You had at least three more orgasms in you before it became too much, and Matt wanted to pull them all from you; one with his cock, another with his fingers, and the final one with his tongue. But there wasn’t any time.

Reaching over, he felt along the coffee table for something, anything he could use to his advantage.

“Matt, what is it? Please don’t stop,” you whined, propping yourself up on your elbows, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. 

“It’s alright, darling, it’s alright,” his hand closed around an empty mug that you must’ve left there. It wasn’t much, but it’d do. “It’s okay, I won’t stop. I won’t. I’ve got you.”

The door creaked open, swinging wide and slamming against the wall. “Red! You here?”

You tilted your head back over the armrest, searching for the source of the voice. Was that who you thought it was? “Matt—”

He thrust into you again, so deep that it made you dizzy. “Don’t worry about him, I want you to cum for me.”

“But—”

“Do as you’re told,” he grunted, rolling his hips. Just as Frank was about to reach the end of the hall, Matt drew back his arm and pegged the mug across the room. You were writhing under him, close to frustrated tears, but you came with a cry of his name, shuddering hard. The mug hit the wall right near Frank’s face and he stumbled back into the hall to avoid the shower of porcelain shards.

“Get out of my fucking apartment, Castle!” You’d never heard Matt yell like that before; it sent a thrill through you. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to hold onto him as the aftershocks of your orgasm tore through your body. Each gasping breath you took, with Matt still chasing his own high, was like breathing in a shower of sparks. Your whole body was on fire, each of his thrusts left you jolting, trying to shift your hips away from the intensity of the skin-on-skin contact, but desperately wanting him to keep going.

“Matt, Matt, Matt” his name was a prayer from your lips. “It’s too much— I can’t—”

He pulled out instantly, despite reaching his peak. The warmth of his cum splattered across the plane of your stomach and he groaned out your name between great, heaving breaths. Then he collapsed, the full weight of him covered you, and you welcomed it. He was so warm, and so beautiful, and so yours when he was like this. For a moment, the two of you just laid there, spent, listening to each other breathe.

With his head resting on your chest, listening to your heart as it slowly returned to its normal rate, Matt let out a long, exhausted sigh as you stroked his hair.

“Are you gonna tell me why Frank was here?” If you hadn’t been so caught up in the throes of overstimulation when he’d come in, you probably would’ve been angrier that you’d been interrupted. But Matt had dealt with him and gotten him out before the moment was ruined, thank God, because if, after all that, Matt hadn’t gotten to cum… 

Well, you would’ve been tearing Frank a new one right about now.

“I don’t know, probably has information. He’s downstairs, out on the sidewalk, so it must be important, or he would’ve left.” Matt pushed himself up, lifting a hand to the mess smeared on his stomach. His mess. It was all over your torso, too. 

“Stay here, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You couldn’t help but stare at Matt’s ass, at the red lines that marred the pale flesh, as he retreated to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. Once he returned, wiping the sticky substance off your skin with a tenderness that was the exact opposite to the roughness you’d just experienced, your lips lifted into a sleepy, blissed-out smile.

“I love you, Matty, so much,” you reached out to caress his cheek, despite the fact that your hands, your whole body, still shook. “But you need to get dressed and go down there and kick Frank’s ass for me.”

Matt huffed a laugh. “I thought you’d want to do the honours.”

Midnight struck Hell’s Kitchen, and for the third night in a row, Matt stood quietly in his loft, listening. The sound of your heart beating from the bedroom looped in the back of his mind, tucked away in the safe corner he always kept available for the people he loved. Frank's heartbeat met yours in rhythmic syncopation. The familiar sounds intertwined, leaving just enough room for Matt’s to rejoin. Matt didn’t remember making room for Frank in his safe corner, but how very typical of Frank to force his way in there anyway.  

Matt’s corner was feeling rather full, which was always a cause for concern. He struggled to make room for additions to his life when he already did so much to protect the people he loved. He so badly wanted to return to bed, crawl inbetween you and Frank, and let the heartbeats of the two most important people in his life lull him to sleep.  

Something was troubling him, though.  

Matt was beyond used to tuning out the little sounds that drove him crazy when he was a young boy. There were millions of people in New York. That many heartbeats ringing in one person's head would be enough to drive most people to madness, but Matt had quickly become accustomed to tuning the noise out.