#shedaresthedevil

You had walked in the door, the very specific rope retrieved from your home, and immediately instructed Matt to remove his clothes. He had moved quickly to carry out your command.

“Stop.” Your voice cut through the haze of exhilaration, and Matthews hands came to a halt.

Matt was going too quickly, and you knew exactly what the thrill of waiting did for you both. He licked his lips, yearning for instruction. This is what he wanted; to simply dismiss every other thought and obey. Matthew let out a shuddered breath as you circled him, nails gliding across his body. His eyes traveled toward the ceiling, tongue sliding out once again as they closed. You stood on your toes, using his shoulders as an anchor.

“Slower,” your lips brushed his neck just below his ear as you purred. “I want to watch.”

You stepped away, taking a seat in one of the armchairs of his living room. Matt’s hands resumed, making sure to take his time in removing his belt, his dress pants, and then his briefs. Matt’s arousal was evident, even before the silk fabric was separated from his flesh. His fingers moved excruciatingly slow to undo the buttons of his shirt. Matt knew exactly what he was doing, his compliance malicious. You decided to answer this with a small retaliation as he started to slide the shirt from his body. He froze as he heard you stand.

“Leave it on.” You were enthralled at idea of Matt being able to feel the silk of the rope only across his chest.

His signature smirk appeared, unsure of your motivation, but amused by it nonetheless. You took his hand and led him to the bedroom, asking him to sit down on the edge of the bed. Matt’s anticipation grew as he heard your clothes being removed, and he drew in a quiet breath as he heard the rope hit the floor. You almost didn’t hear it. You were unwinding it, running it through your fingers, making sure everything was smooth and the fibers were intact and unfrayed. You knew better than to use unsafe rope, even if it was not for suspension purposes.  After the rope passed your examination, you got on your knees in front of him, reaching for his hands once again. You gazed up at Matt, always in awe of how beautiful he truly was. You tapped your fingers in his palm; this was the code you had made for scenes like this, among others, to ensure that he was okay-that he wanted to continue.

He nodded, tapping back in your palm with the opposite hand. You moved upward, your bare chest making contact with him as you did so. You placed your hand gently on the side of his face, and he leaned into it, lips traveling to kiss your palm. You smiled, reaching for his glasses. This was the last step before he was truly ready. The last piece of vulnerability before he was laid bare before you, the only thing he could hide behind. The light of the billboard coming in from the frosted glass of the window cast a red shadow across his cheekbones. You had opened the curtains, loving the way the light and shadows played along the lines of his body.

“Ready?” you asked gently, breaking the illusion for only a moment. Matt’s consent was the most important thing to you, and he extended the same courtesy to you when the roles were reversed.

“Yes.” Matt breathed, his voice low and ragged.

“Safe word?”

“I know it.” He replied, impatient.

“I need to hear you say it, or this stops.”

You already knew he was aware of the safe word. It was the same as yours, but you would not proceed until you heard it.

“Red.”

You moved even higher, placing a kiss upon his brow.

“Good boy.” You murmured, slipping back into your role.

You had taken your time, making sure each twist and knot of the rope was perfect and secure. Matt was already dying of anticipation, his senses heightening at the feeling of the rope sliding against his body and biting into his skin gently as you tightened it. When you had finally finished, you sat back on your heels to admire your work. You had made a simple box tie across his chest, anchored to his upper arms. He could move his hands, but his arms remained firmly at his sides.

“Just when I thought you could not get more attractive.” You remarked, running your hands over his chest to admire the harness you had made.

Matt let out a deep groan as your hands grazed his nipples.

“Already so sensitive. And I barely touched you.”

You made a point to linger with your hands a little longer, brushing against the sensitive flesh.  This man was tied up at your mercy, ready to take anything you would give him.  Your hands gripped the rope that expanded across the front of him, pulling him forward. You swept your lips across his, barely touching them at all. The lack of sensation was the worst form of torture you could inflict upon Matt. He let out a frustrated breath, leaning in further to try and feel you.  Using the leverage of the harness, you pushed Matt away gently.

“Lay down.” You instructed, trailing your mouth down his neck, his chest, his hips.

Matthew did as he was asked, chest fighting against the bite of the rope as his breathing increased. And then your mouth was on his cock. Matt gasped as your tongue flicked up the underside of him, his fingers splaying out across his sheets. The sensations your mouth alone brought him should be a sin in and of itself, but you felt so good wrapped around him. His thighs trembled as he felt himself slide deeper into your throat. Your pace was painstakingly slow, and Matt could barely stand it.

“Fuck. God.” He groaned, feeling himself getting closer to the edge after what felt like hours.

“Language, Matthew. The only god here is me.” You chastised, granting him respite from your lips and tongue for only a moment.  

Matt only whined in response to this as he slid back into your mouth once again. From that point forward, the only name he called out was yours.  

He was close, so close. Matt’s spine arched upward, arms straining against his bonds as heat surged through his body. More, just a little more.

Your hand joining in with your mouth was the added friction he needed. You heard the choked sound he made right before he was about to tumble over the edge leave his lips. You pulled away, removing all sensation of your touch just before he would have finished.

“Wha- why?” he gasped, confusion spreading across his face as the pleasure receded.

“Did you really think I would let you finish that easily? You know me better than that, Matthew. I want to hear you beg for it.”

Matt nodded, understanding. He hissed between gritted teeth as your nails dug into his thighs, cock twitching. You were going to leave him in ruins by the time this was over, and he reveled in the thought.

You pulled every beautiful moan, whine, and ragged breath from him that you could. Matt had still not begged by the third time you had edged him.  His groans bordered on sobs as you took your mouth away again.  You stood, walking around the other side of the bed to caress his face.

“Poor sweet boy, you’re doing so good. This can all be over if you want. All you have to do is say the word.” You teased, running your fingers through his damp hair.

It had been almost forty minutes since you had tied Matt up, the rope a deeper, darker red than it had been when you began. The color was still bright and brilliant against his chest and white dress shirt. It was soaked through with sweat; Matt was covered in it. His hair was so disheveled from struggling, falling beautifully in his glazed eyes. You were thrilled by the visual he gifted you every time you looked up; Matt’s chest rising and falling frantically, hands gripping the sheets as though they would save him from the punishment he craved.

He tilted his head upwards, toward you as he shook it. He did not want you to stop.

“Alright.” You whispered, smoothing the sweat from his forehead. You slid your hand down his arm, over the rope and eventually down to his hand, tapping once again. Matt tapped up into your palm.

“Please.”

You took your place on your knees before him once again. Matt would have to beg harder than that.

You grinned wickedly, placing your lips around him once again. A deep whine filled the room the moment the sensation of your touch resumed. Matt was already hypersensitive, and he felt like he would implode if you edged him again.  Within minutes, his hands were clawing the sheets, chest rising and falling rapidly. It was almost painful how desperately he needed to come. Everything was too much, too intense.

Your eyes drifted upward as you worked. Matt was so divine to look at, especially like this. Between his hair in his eyes, the stark contrast of the rope against him, and his tongue flicking out to wet his lips between the desperate, needy pants that spilled from his mouth? Matt was breathtaking in any state he was in, and you often thought about how that was possible. His lips parted, drawing in the oxygen he needed as he fought against the lines that bound him. Matt could taste you in the air and it was going to be his undoing. Hearing him moan and cry out just did something to you. Listening to Matt utterly lose control did something to you.

A hoarse plea rose above his ragged breaths.

A myriad of please, begging you not to stop, and your name left Matt’s mouth.

You decided that Matt had suffered enough, giving him the release he pleaded for. His spine lifted off the bed, head thrown back, as you tasted him on your tongue. You devoured all of him as he emptied himself into your mouth. Matt finished with a deep moan and your name on his lips, said with all the deference of a desperate prayer. Unfortunately for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, you were not finished. You kept your mouth on him, even after Matt had reached his peak, cruelly wrapping your arms around his thighs to keep him still as he thrashed. He was so sensitive, and you knew it had to be agonizing. For just a little longer, you would drag out his torment.  He had begged for you not to stop, so you weren’t going to. Not until a strangled whimper left him, tears brimmed his eyes and all he could say was please.

You finally, finally released him and he gasped, falling back against the bed. Matt’s head fell slack, cheek pressed against the soaked sheets. He was breathing hard, gradually coming back down. You rushed to the opposite side of the bed, kissing his forehead while you raked your fingers through his hair. His eyes slid closed, savoring the feeling.

“You did so good. I’m right here. Tell me what you need.”

“Off. Please.” He mumbled, flexing his arm against the rope.

“Do you want me to untie it or cut it off?”

You didn’t care about the rope; you cared that matt was comfortable.

“You can untie it.” He whispered, almost asleep.

“You’re going to have to sit up for me Matt. Can you do that?”

He nodded, using his hands to push himself up. You worked quickly, fingers working across the knots in perfect form. You had practiced so it would be flawless, you never wanted to put Matt in danger or be unable to free him. The last stretch of rope was removed and you took his shirt off for him, discarding it across the room. The impressions the rope had left behind were beautiful across his chest and arms; you wanted to reach over and touch them. Perhaps after you had gotten him water and cleaned him up, he was most likely too sensitive still. You had attempted to stand, but Matts arms had wrapped around you, holding you there. He pulled you closer so he could rest his head on your thigh, just craving your proximity and scent.

“Okay.” You conceded, petting him while you spoke softly.

“Was that okay? Did you enjoy yourself?”

Matt nodded, his stubble scraping against the skin of your thigh.

“What about you? Do you need…” he mumbled, ever the giver.

You shook your head.

“No, don’t worry about me. You can return the favor another time. You need water, a shower, clean sheets, and I think me petting your hair until you fall asleep have been more than earned.”

And then there was Matt, moving towards you, the full confidence of the Devil exuded in his gait. You would almost call it a strut, given the power in his approach. He commanded the space, almost in the same way as he would in the courtroom. But instead of a quiet storm that waited to strike, this was one that raged, one that roared with no question of if it would come raining down, but when. If you hadn't been struggling to breathe already, you might have even been flustered by it. Within seconds, Matt had freed you, pushing your assailant backwards and out of range from you. You fell to the concrete, straining for air as you turned to see how it would go down.

“I am not afraid to hurt you.”  You heard him threaten, voice low and dangerous.

A shiver ran down your spine, contrasting with the burn in your lungs.

Matthew was an incredible fighter, and you would be lying if you said it didn't excite you.

He was fearless, borderline vicious in his desire to protect the city and apparently, you. You heard bones crack against his fist, and finally, the last man fell. Matt rolled his shoulders, and you found yourself staring at them, broad and strong.

You had made your way to your feet, leaning with your hands on your knees while you fought to catch your breath.

"You should really watch your back, sweetheart." He had teased, head tilting as his tongue slid out to lick his lips.

You looked up at him, exasperated by his comment.

You held up a finger, and he laughed.

"When I regain the ability to breathe," you rasped, "I'm going to take that mask off your face and choke you with it. "

Matt simply shook his head, smiling all the while. The pair of you had left, leaping from rooftop to rooftop to avoid being seen. The adrenaline had worn off by the time you were almost back at Matt's apartment, and the pain of the asphyxiation had sunk in. You ripped off your hood and face shield, settling down on the couch. Your throat still burned,but otherwise you were intact, save for a few cuts and bruises. Stripping off your hoodie, you tossed it to the chair, leaving you in your binder and undershirt.

Matthew had already walked to the bathroom to gather the medical kit you had insisted you two put together. He could smell the coppery tang of blood from both himself and you, as well as the sweat that coated your skin and… salt. You were crying, but he wasn't sure what for. Matthew had found it was better to let you tell him on your own why, rather than asking. He re-entered the living room, and you leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees. The black paint you hid your eyes with was smeared across your palms from you wiping it away.

"Here, try this." Matthew offered, handing you a wet washcloth.

You took it with gratitude, wiping your face and hands off as best you could. You would need something stronger to get it all off, but it would be sufficient for now. You set the cloth down, looking toward Matt, who had already removed his mask to wipe away  his own sweat and blood. Flipping open the box, you reached for an alcohol swab for the cut on Matt's face. Standing, you walked to meet him.

"Let me see, Matt."

"You don't have to do that. I can do it myself, I have for years. " He replied, tone coming out harsher than he had intended.

You swallowed, taking a step back.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to make you feel incapable. That wasn't my intention." You apologized, gaze dropping to the floor.

You sounded defeated, and moreover you sounded hurt. Matt raked his fingers through his hair, regretting his response. He knew you had retreated inwardly; you had backed down almost instantly. You never backed down, even when he was in a mood. It was one of the things that he loved the most about you- you challenged him, even if he was certain in his conviction.

"That's not what I meant either. This week has been difficult, but that doesn't mean I should take it out on you. You're only trying to help."

Which was true. They had lost a case in court earlier in the week and Matt had been thrown off since. You felt more in the way than helpful this week, and that sense of worthlessness had begun to take its toll on you.

Your brow furrowed, and your lips twitched from side to side. You started to reach up toward his wound again, but Matt stopped you, taking hold of your wrist gently.

"I'm sorry. You're upset."

"I'm not upset, Matt." you countered, swiping against the blood that still stained his face.

Lie.

"Please don't lie to me. Talk to me."

You shook your head, biting your lip as you fought the burn in your eyes. Crying was your body's first reaction to you being frustrated, and you loathed it.

"I'm not upset. I'm frustrated." You finally admitted, placing a bandage across his cheek.

Matt could practically hear the thoughts of self doubt rolling around in your brain. You were so hard on yourself, and he could recognize it easily; he was the exact same way.

"Is it because you got caught off guard? I've had that happen before, it's not as rare as you think it is ."

You scoffed, warm tears falling down your face without your permission as you continued to clean Matt up.

"Yeah, but the difference is that you got out of it. Even with everything I know, I still couldn't escape it. I couldn't even think of how to get away, I was so focused on trying to breathe. My brain stopped. I just…"

You trailed off as you felt Matt's fingers graze lightly across your cheek, taking your tears with them.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

Matt's tone was soft, empathetic, the facade of arrogance falling away.

"I hate feeling like a burden. The last thing I want is to be an extra person that you have to protect or look after. I should be able to hold my own and not have to wait for you to come and help me all the time."

Ah. There it was.

"Stop. Come here." he said, drawing you into his embrace.

"This week has been shit for both of us. You are not a burden or an inconvenience. You've saved my skin more times than I can count, I'm just returning the favor, okay?"

You inhaled against his chest, the scent of black oak and amber soothing to your anxiety ridden body.

"Okay." You mumbled, stepping out of Matthews arms.

Your mouth twitched again, a telling sign that something else was bothering you. Your breathing also changed in pattern.

"I know you need to say something else."

"I just hate that I cry so much. Really makes me seem like I get overwhelmed too easily." You groaned, running your fingers through your hair.

Matt gave a low laugh, moving to clean your wounds in reciprocation.

"No, it just means you feel things very deeply, " he began, cleaning a split in your lip, "I do too, and not just because of my senses being heightened. "

You flinched at the sting as Matt wiped your skin. You hissed as he cleaned the gash on your shoulder, feeling particularly sensitive.

"Sorry." He whispered with a small smile, trying to be more gentle in his work.

"I've had worse." You joked, making a motion toward your throat that was already darkened with bruises.

Matt reached out, resting his hand at the base of your neck, fingers brushing against your pulse point.

"I'm sorry I wasn't faster." He whispered, hearing the soft tissue shift and your windpipe rasp as you breathed.

You reached for the side of Matt's neck, mirroring his actions, touching the hand that was on you with the other.

"You feel that? I know you can hear it, but do you feel it?"

Matthew nodded, tongue sneaking out over his bottom lip as he swallowed.

"I'm here. I'm whole, and so are you. We have each other, Matty. I'm not going anywhere."

A small, but genuine smile appeared on Matt's face as the two of you stood there, grounding each other. You were definitely in his corner, the past three months had proven as much, but it was more than that.

 He could never tell you how terrified he was to lose you; that wasn't what you wanted.  He couldn't tell you what you meant to him beyond what already was, even if your touch made him ache for you. Matt could not tell you that he wanted to be intimate with you, on more than a physical level. You were always there for him after everything, whether it was emotionally or to tend to his wounds. You embraced him exactly as he was, both as Matthew and as The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Could you…. Could you teach me? How you get out of a hold like that?"

The smile quickly turned into a smirk.

"I thought you'd never ask."

And now here you were, in your basement learning to get out of holds and to improve your disarming skills. The hold against your throat you had gotten pretty quickly, but the disarming technique you and Matt were currently working on was taking you some time. You had run through it about a dozen times now, and you still were not getting it right.

"C'mon, again." You repeated, readying your hands.

"You really want to get hit again? I'm starting to feel bad."

It was true, your ribs ached from being struck repeatedly with his nightstick, but you were determined to get it, at least once. Matt scrutinized your stance, head tilting to the side.

"Wait. Your hands are too high. I think that's the problem."

You dropped your hands, unsure of where exactly you should put them. Matt shook his head, coming to stand behind you.

"May I?"

You agreed, and Matt took a hold of your hands to reposition your arms where they needed to be, bending slightly to do so. You tried not to think about how his hands felt on your skin, the light calluses creating a pleasurable friction.

"You're trying to compensate for my height, but I'm striking in a downward arc like someone who would try and hit you would. There."  He explained, finally satisfied with your arm placement. His hands dropped to your hips, feeling the lack of tension in them.

“Spread your legs a little wider for me. Just like that.”

Matt's voice was low and directly next to your ear. You suppressed a tremble as he withdrew, returning to his place across from you.

"Ready? We'll go step step by step again."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. Matt swung, and the stick came towards you with a blinding speed. Your forearm connected with the center, holding it at bay. You withheld the cry of triumph in your throat.

"Excellent. Let's do it again and then we'll move on to the next part."

Matthew reset his position, as did you. He swung once more, and you blocked it again, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You dropped your hand down, grasping the baton tightly.

"What's next?" Matt encouraged, a grin of his own trying to form.

"My other hand comes over to push the nightstick up and away , and I grab your arm. I use the hand that's on the baton to take it from you as I push your arm down and twist away."

"Alright let's see it then- well, as well as I can see anything."

You groaned, shaking your head as you reset to try it all together. You ran through it slowly, making sure you had the motion down.

"Can we try it at your real speed now? I know you've been holding back even when you "weren't."." You asked, hoping Matt would say yes.

Getting it in a slow, practiced motion was one thing. Getting it at the speed of the Devil? That was another matter entirely. Matthew sighed.

"If you think you're ready. I promise I won't hold out on you."

"I am. Show me what you've got, devilish man." You prodded, rolling your shoulders back.

Matt raised his eyebrows, and then struck without warning. You blocked, then took hold of the wood, using it as a fulcrum as your other hand came to grab Matthew's arm, twisting away with the nightstick in hand. Matt advanced, coming behind you. You turned quickly,  down swinging the baton to protect yourself as you did so. You felt it connect with his hip, quickly raising it again to deflect the blow that was headed towards your face.

The two of you panted hard, Matt's signature smirk gracing his features.

"Good girl."

And the alarm that settled on Matt's face wiped away the look of satisfaction that had been there only seconds before.  He heard your heart rate tick upward at the praise, but he assumed it was because he had used a feminine term. You felt something, but it wasn't anger. You felt it stir low in your body, tendrils of mild arousal climbing up your skin.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean-"

Matt felt his face heat and a light laugh left your lips. It was a rarity to see him flustered, but you didn't exploit it. Not when he was genuinely concerned that he had upset you.

"Matt, it's okay. I use she/they, remember?"

Matt swallowed, still completely thrown off by his mistake.

"Is that okay, though?"

You simply shook your head, placing your hand on his arm to reassure him.

"I identified as female for Twenty-three years of my life, and sometimes I still feel that way. Traditionally feminine compliments and words do not bother me, okay?"

Matt nodded, asking if you were ready to move on to sparring. You always ended training with a hand to hand match, seeing who would last the longest and make the other submit first. You tossed the stick aside off the mats you had laid down on the floor. You began to circle each other, waiting each other out to see who would strike first.

"You're going to make me pay for all the times I hit you in the ribs, aren't you?" Matt said playfully, focusing on your mouth as your lips slid into a smirk.

He quickly focused elsewhere, as the thought of how your mouth would feel against his entered his mind. Your presence was…distracting today, but that would not deter him from making you give in.

"I feel like you would be offended if I didn't."you quipped.

Your eyes locked in on his bare shoulder, the black fabric of his tank top clinging to his soaked body. You shook your head once more, trying to anchor your attention somewhere else.

"You know me so well." He replied, leaning out of the way of your strike.

His eyebrows raised, head tilting in amusement and expectance.  He continued his prowling; that was truly the only way you could describe it- a hunter and his prey.

"Interesting. " He mused, rolling his shoulders back.

Matt was sizing you up, trying to anticipate your next move. He was excellent at reading you… most of the time. The scent of your sweat blending with the perfumed oil on your skin was enticing and he ached to intertwine it with his own. Matt was ripped from the thought of how he would do exactly  that when your fist connected with his ribs, and then his jaw.

You shook your hand out, bones aching at the impact.

"You were saying?" You quipped, watching as he wiped the blood off his face from where he had bitten his cheek.

You found yourself biting your own lip for only a moment at the sight of the deep, dark red staining Matthews mouth.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your hand?" He teased, moving to retaliate.

Matt's leg was headed straight for you, and you barely had time to evade it.

"Shut up, Matt." you shot back, matching his playful tone.

"Why don't you come and make me, sweetheart?" Matt urged, brows raising as if to say “come and get me”.

You were both annoyed and entranced by his confidence, and you aimed to wipe the smirk right off his mouth. Unfortunately for you, your plan did not go as intended. Matt took a hold of your wrist, his opposite arm wrapping around your back as he sent you around his body. You landed on your feet, and Matt still held you in his grasp. You were low, almost as if you were being dipped during a waltz. Training with Matt often felt like a dance; it was fluid, seemingly effortless when you had the right partner. Thrashing in his grasp, he pulled you back up and you were now inches from his face. Matt smiled once again, knowing how frustrated he could make you.  You moved against him and he let out a light laugh.

“I thought you were going to make me be quiet.”

Your free arm had come to rest around his neck, and you decided to take advantage of that. Your hand found its way up the back of his head, Matt's soft hair gliding in between your fingers.  You swore heard Matt hum low in his throat, almost like he was purring at the feeling. The sound of pleasure turned quickly into a deep, thrumming growl as you pulled, showing your teeth as you moved even closer to his face.

"Who said I still won't, Counselor?" You whispered, a wicked grin forming across your lips.

It was distraction enough for you to break his hold on your arm and shove him away, and you twisted to the ground, falling into a crouch. Your hair had come undone and now fell in loose waves at your shoulder. You tossed it back as you stood, pulse racing as the thrill of the fight began to sink in.

Matt’s head tilted, lips sliding into a smirk once again, taunting you.

“So we’re fighting like that today, huh sweetheart?”

You laughed, amused at his reply.

“What is it you always say? ‘Win by whatever means necessary’ ?”

“Exactly.”

Matt struck out, and you whirled to block. At the last moment he dropped to his knees, gliding across the floor and grabbing your ankles to pull you down. You rotated as you fell, landing on the mat with a solid thump. The air was knocked out of you, but you wasted no time trying to roll over.

You were not fast enough to escape the Devil.

The moment you were on your back Matt was hovering above you, pinning you with his hands, strong thighs bracketing your hips and holding you in place. You moved underneath him, struggling to free yourself, groaning quietly as you did so. You hated feeling trapped, and hated losing even more.As you worked against his hold, you realized his grip was not as tight as it you thought it was. You did not want to give him the pleasure of having you concede, so you formulated an exit stratedgy.

 Matt had to hold it together as he heard you borderline moan while you writhed beneath him. He was grateful that you could not detect changes in scent like he could. Matt could scent the arousal coming from himself and you, but he also knew that it was a natural reaction to adrenaline and stress on your body.

“I win.” he proclaimed, satisfied with himself.

You arched your back upwards, coming back down with a cry of exasperation, your inability to escape purely performance.

You shook your head.

“You’re hurting my feelings, Matthew.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, but by the time he realized what you were doing it was too late. Your legs wrapped around his and thrust him to the side, yanking your hands out of his hold to shove his chest away simultaneously. You had flipped him successfully, parallel to the exact position you had just been in, your hold on his legs more secure. You leaned down, hair brushing lightly against his cheek as you spoke.

“Those aren’t the rules we agreed on. It’s not whoever pins the other first, it’s whoever submits first. I never submitted to you, and therefore you do not win.”

Between you being on top of him, the scent of sweat mixed with your pheromones and the oil on your skin, Matt could barely think, barely breathe.

“Well, are you admitting defeat or are we going to drag this out?”

“Not a chance.” he shot back, a fierce defiance lacing his voice.

Matt used his body weight to push upward, driving you backwards and pinning you back to the floor. Your hands were still free, and your right slipped down to your boot, reaching for the karambit blade that was wedged between your leg and the leather. You gripped the acrylic sheath, choking back up to the handle once it was in your grasp. You brought the covered blade up to Matt’s throat at the same time as he brought the one from your left leg to yours.

“You have two of these, remember?” he chuckled, breathing hard.

Your mind raced; currently you were grid locked, each with a knife to the throat. The pair of you would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on. Matthew pinning you down certainly was not helping, as your mind drifted momentarily to you being pinned down in a different circumstance. Matt must have grabbed it when he turned the tables, and you scolded yourself for not expecting it. The only way you could secure victory now was to completely take him down, make it so he could not move. You had to work quickly if you wanted to be efficient in your scheme. The curve of your knife angled underneath his, shifting upward to pry the karambit from his hand. The blade clattered against the floor as it landed across the room. Your legs were still locked together; Matthew had no choice but to move with you as you rolled sideways.

Matthew gasped as he felt the shift in position, your speed surprising even with how exhausted you were. Your arms hooked underneath his own, one hand pressing against the back of his neck, the other crossing to the opposite shoulder. He swore he felt his hip bones  bend, yielding under the pressure of your thighs as you forced your legs in underneath his to immobilize him. Matt heard you laugh softly against the hollow of his neck where your head rested to protect your face as he struggled, trying desperately to find an out. There was no way for him to get you off of him without intentionally hurting you, which was not the point of the training exercise.

You felt the heat that had risen up earlier from his praise return as he groaned in frustration. You hoped the amount of sweat would cover the scent of your body’s reaction to the sound. Fighting with Matt just did something to you, and hearing men make any kind of noise resembling a sound of pleasure had always turned you to liquid internally. Finally, after several minutes of fighting against your grasp, you felt Matt’s hand tap your shoulder blade three times.

“What happened to not a chance, Counselor?”

"Fuck you." He replied, laughing through every syllable.

"Fuck me yourself coward."

It was reflexive at this point with the both of you; provoking each other was second nature.

Matt suppressed another tremor as he felt your breath on his neck, the softness of your lips brushing against him. God, you were so close, skin to skin in some places. He wanted you, and contemplated telling you for only a moment. Matt wanted you physically, that was true, but he wanted you on an emotional level as well. You were the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing on Matt’s mind before he went to sleep, which more often than not these days was with you, be it in his bed or yours. Each other’s presence brought relief, and he found solace and comfort with you. But if you wanted him in return, you would have told him before now. He did not take you for a person to mislead him, and you had shown no indication that you wanted anything more than his companionship. So it would have to stay that way.

“I know when I’m beaten, sweetheart.”

“Say it.”

Matt knew what you wanted. He decided to rile you some more.

“Isn’t me tapping out more than enough?”

You scoffed against his skin.

“Absolutely not. And I am not releasing you until you submit fully.”

He liked the sound of that, but the level of submission he thought of was in a completely different context. Matthew felt your grip tighten even more in emphasis, as if to say that you had no problem waiting. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Fine. I submit. You win.”

Your hold loosened and you pulled away slightly, meeting his blank stare.

“See? That wasn't so hard. You’ve won the past two times, let me have this.”

He just couldn’t help himself, taking the small edge of advantage he had now that your guard was down. Matt flipped you both, hovering above you again, leaving your hands free.

“No, I don’t see, actually.” Matt teased, a smug smile on his face.

“You still tapped out. I still won.” you huffed, frowning beneath him.

“I don’t recall doing that.”

“Oh, so you getting frustrated because I had you pinned down thirty seconds ago didn’t happen?”

“Are you calling a blind man a liar?” he replied, feigning offense.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, gripping onto the damp fabric of his tank top and turning the tide once again.

“I would never.” you said, sitting up to stand, offering your hand to help him up.

Matt’s grasp on your hand made you wince. His brows rose, stepping closer and softening his grip.

Concern was evident in his tone as he asked if you were alright.

“Yeah I think so, I think you just grabbed my bones too hard.” you joked, moving to unwrap them.

You had shaken out your hand after connecting with his face earlier, and had winced even though he hadn’t squeezed that hard.

“Stop,” he requested, head tilting to hear better, “Flex your fingers, I want to see if I’m right.”

You did as he asked after Matt took your hand, and sure enough he heard the slight creak of the bones in your hand.

“Your wraps are too tight. Make them a little looser next time.” he advised, unwrapping the moon phase patterned fabric from your hands.

Mathew took it upon himself to massage your hand, moving your fingers in circular motions to loosen them up. He moved on to the next one, unwinding the fabric.

“You don’t have to do that, Matt. I would have survived with aching hands. I've done worse.”

 Matt chuckled, dark hair falling in his face from the downward angle of his head. His laugh always made you smile, even when you didn’t feel like it.

“I wanted to. Besides, I can't have my partner in pain when we need to go out later tonight.”

Partner. Not ‘partner in crime’ as you teasingly called each other, just partner. Your chest tightened  as you looked up at him. Matt felt your eyes on him, and he tilted his head upward to meet your gaze as best he could. His eyes were so beautiful and warm, and you wanted them on you always. You realized you were staring, and swallowed, taking your hand back gently.

“I should um, I should take you home.” you said, breaking the silence.

Matt grinned weakly, nodding in agreement that it was time for him to go.

“You’re tired, I’ll take a cab. You worked really hard today, you deserve to rest before your session with your client.”

“Matt, it’s twenty minutes, I don’t mind.” you protested, zipping up your hoodie and heading upstairs.

“That’s twenty minutes of your time, plus ten minutes of traffic, plus thirty back. That’s an entire hour. Go relax and cool off before you have to throw yourself into work on your day off.”  he countered, grabbing his jacket from the kitchen chair he had hung it on upon his arrival.

Matthew was right, you supposed. You had taken a client on a saturday as a virtual reschedule, which you usually did not do. But this particular client was fragile, and always on time. You did not have it in you to say no, not when you had made so much progress the previous week.

“If you’re sure...” you conceded, following him to the front door.

“I am. I’ll see you later, for… work part two.” Matt reassured you, sliding his glasses on and calling for a cab once he was out the door.

You followed him out to the porch, sitting beside him on the swing while he waited. The early morning light made the strands of auburn in his hair shine, and you wanted to run your fingers through it, just to touch him. That was a level of intimacy that you saved for after vigilante activities; for in the dark after you patched each other up and needed to be sure you were both still whole. So you settled for leaning your head against his bare shoulder instead.

Matt leaned back, letting  the slight breeze of early fall move through him, eyes sliding shut.

And then it was there again.

Sandalwood, patchouli, and orchids.

The wind had made your scent travel, and Matt could practically taste you. Your scent drove him insane, but also made him sad if he thought about it too much. Orchids had been Elektra’s favorite flower, and you reminded Matt of her in so many ways, but you differed in many more.. One of his favorite things about you was that you were  different from her.  You shared the same ferocity, the same passion and determination, yes, but you knew where to stop. You knew when enough was enough and never pushed him too far. You were unfathomably kind, even with everything that had happened to you. You never lied to him, and even when it was an accidental deception, you took accountability for it. Matt wasn’t even fully aware of the scope of your trauma, but he had connected quite a few dots.  There were still some things you could not tell him; you weren’t ready.

You felt Matt shift beside you, and you looked up at him, seeing the conflicted expression on his face. You didn't need to be able to hear his heart to know something was wrong.

"Is everything okay? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Matt released a light laugh, shaking his head.

"No, I'm okay. I promise. I'm just…thinking."

About Elektra.

You finished the thought in your head, not wanting to press the issue.

"Orchids were her favorite, and your perfume oil smells like orchids."

Oh.

He had never told you that, never said anything.

You softened instantly.

"I'm… I can change it to something else from here out if it makes you upset."

You had plenty of scents to choose from, but this combination went the best with your natural body chemistry.

"No, I don't want you to do that. It helps me find you when we get separated. It's cathartic  in a way. You couldn't have possibly known that those were her favorite, but yet it still ended up being the one you chose. It's like she's telling me that you're supposed to be in my life. Like she's still here somehow.

You smiled gently, relieved that the scent was more than just a sorrowful reminder.

"I'm sorry, that sounded really dumb."

You shook your head, reaching out and intertwining your fingers, giving Matt's hand a light squeeze.

Matt immediately eased at your touch, visibly relaxing in his expression.

"If you feel it, it's not dumb. Aren't you always saying that to me?"

He supposed that was true; it would be hypocritical of him not to take his own advice.

"Thank you." He said suddenly.

"For what?"

"For always understanding. It's far more than I deserve."

"I don't believe that for a second. You deserve the world Matt. What you do for this city, what you risk every day, it's beyond measure." You replied, voice breaking from the friction on your vocal chords.

Matthew could hear the slight rasp in your voice, the almost imperceptible strain in your breathing. He knew you were still bruised from the other night. 

“Does it,” he swallowed, changing the subject, “does it still hurt?”

Matthew looked down at you, reaching for your throat, not thinking of what he was doing. You turned in answer, your forehead touching lightly against his as you felt his fingers caress the damaged skin.

“No, It doesn’t, not really…” you whispered, hyper aware of the immediate proximity of Matt to you. His fingers were warm and soothed the ache from the deeply bruised flesh. How you functioned around him was beyond you; Matthew made you…nervous being this close.

Not quite a lie, but not entirely true.

“It’s only been two days. I can hear how much strain it puts on you just to breathe.” he whispered back, noting that if he moved even the smallest amount, your lips would meet.

You seemed to pick up on that detail as well, pulling away just enough to match eyes with him. His hand slid up the side of your neck, fingers brushing the back of your jaw.

“It does hurt, Matt. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.” you swallowed, trying to hide the wince that followed.

In truth, you had been hurt far worse between the vigilantism in the night with Matt and rehabilitating horses, but this was a dull ache compared to the emotional pain you had endured in your life. At least this pain would eventually fade, and you knew that with certainty.

Matt looked blankly at you, knowing full well that you were down playing your pain. Most likely it was to try and spare him some guilt over not being able to get to you quickly enough to prevent it. Your heart was racing, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. What he could make of your expression was a face he’d recognized on you many times. You were thinking, and thinking intensely- you always were, but this was different somehow. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wanted to know where you went when you went that deep into your head. Matt still hadn’t moved his hand, and you still hadn’t moved further away. 

“Yes?” you said, unsure of what to make of the way he said your name.

Matthew shifted slightly. He had said your name aloud, not just in his head like he thought he had. Maybe he should simply tell you, and you could move from there. Saying it, confessing it, might relieve the vast amount of tension he felt. It was becoming more and more difficult to be near you, even in a casual setting.

“I need to tell you-”

You both jumped at the horn from the taxi that pulled up to your home. The passenger window rolled down, and the driver asked if one of you was Matthew. He stood, picking up his jacket and cane and you stood to hug him goodbye. Matt breathed you in quietly, eyes rolling back from the aromatics of your body.

“What did you need to tell me?” you asked, pulling away.

Matt took the timing of the taxi as a sign. He let out a nervous laugh as he descended the stairs.

“I can't even remember. Must not have been important then. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Your brow furrowed momentarily, perplexed. It had sounded important by his tone, but given that Mathew’s memory was impeccable most of the time, it must not have been for him to have forgotten that quickly. You nodded, the sarcastic remark falling swiftly from your mouth.

“Will you see me later, counselor?”

Matt shook his head, ducking into the back seat and instructing the driver where to go. You waved goodbye as the car pulled away, turning to go back inside.

The ride back to Matt’s apartment felt over too quickly, even with the fifteen extra minutes of traffic. You had been exceptional today, so stubborn to get it right, so headstrong in your efforts to win against him. Your scent was still on him; in his hair, on his hands, on his clothes- you were everywhere. Usually, he could compose himself when he put some distance between the two of you. Your scent would fade and he could concentrate again, but today it was more intense than normal. He supposed it was because you had been training for four hours instead of your usual two because you had been persistent. You did not want to quit today, full of vicious determination, and God it made Matt want you.

Matt paid the driver, gathering his belongings and stepping out onto the pavement.  He made the trek up the stairs , wanting nothing more than to rest for a few hours until it was time to go out for the evening. Matt turned the key in the lock, pushing the door open as he heard the bolt slide. He sighed as he set his cane against the doorframe, placing his glasses on the table by the door. Matt tossed his jacket to the chair across from the couch and went to the kitchen to get water. Filling the glass, he downed it, and another and then another. Moving to his bedroom, he removed  his shoes,  and his tank top followed shortly after. He was simply too hot, that’s all it was. Matthew made his way back to the couch, hearing the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor. He turned, moving to pick up his jacket from the floor. And then he found it.

Your shirt.

That was why he couldn’t escape you. Matt felt the fabric in his hands, ran his fingers over the soft material. It must have been on the back of the chair he had draped his jacket on at your house. Placing the shirt on top of his hoodie, Matt took a seat onto the cool leather. It practically felt like ice against his bare back, and he savored the feeling. His repose lasted only moments as your scent once again ensnared him, making his mind go hazy as he looked toward the arm chair where your shirt was. Arousal stirred low in his body, and his fingers gripped the leather cushion, fighting against the growing length against the fabric of his pants.

Matt groaned, letting his head fall backwards, squeezing his eyes shut. He had to think of anything else except you, but that was difficult when he could not get away from you. Even though you weren’t there, he ached for you, grateful he had kept himself under control while the two of you were sparring.

Matt kept trying to send his mind elsewhere, but between the way the smell of the shirt affected him and the strain of his cock he was done for. He was going to hell anyway, so what did it matter?

He thought about just before he had submitted to you, the entanglement of limbs, the weight of your body on his. The way you had as good as moaned as you writhed underneath him, trying to free yourself from his hold.  Matthew’s hand traveled below the waist of his sweats, hand grasping around himself, stroking lightly.

Matt wondered what you would be like, in terms of sexual preference. Would you become soft, malleable;  A stark contrast to your personality? Would you yield to him, let him do anything he wanted?

His grip tightened, slowing down even more as he contemplated the idea. You being submissive to him was an alluring thought. But what if your taste was…the opposite and it matched your personality? What if you were as aggressive there as you had been an hour ago when you made him submit to you?

Matthew wasn’t sure which thought excited him more and he groaned at both possibilities.

He then pondered what you would sound like. He had a vague idea, based solely on the noises you made when you were in pain or when he pinned you, and he swore up and down that you did it on purpose, just to torture him. But what would you sound like in that setting? Would you be loud and direct with what you want or would you be quieter until you reached your climax? Matt began to stroke faster, setting his legs wider. What sound would you make as he spread your legs and slid inside you? His tongue parted his lips, lost in contemplation. Matthew ventured to let his mind wander to what you would taste like.

This was wrong, so incredibly wrong but he just couldn’t stop. He would get on his knees and confess his sins between your thighs if you gave him the chance, each orgasm he would give you his penance for his trespasses. Matt would give you as many as you wanted, as many as you could take and would do it gladly, just because he knew he could. He would be far different from anyone else who had you before; Matt would be able to read your body better because of his heightened senses, and he felt a tinge of satisfaction at the thought. He would pull every beautiful, sinful sound that he could from you until you begged him to stop.

Matthew felt the heat begin to coil within him as a deeper, darker thought crossed his mind; the way your throat felt under his hand today, and every other time he touched you. He wanted the frisson of excitement to trail across your body as his hands would explore you, feel your pulse race under the pressure of his hand around your neck. 

Close. He was so close.

The mere instance of you being atop him today had almost made him lose it, right then and there. The weight of your body on his hips was so inviting, and he envisioned it there now, with one exception.

He imagined you on top of him, riding him with his cock buried inside you, nails digging into his shoulders as you grew closer to the edge. What you would feel like between his teeth as he breathed you in. You would be warm, and wrapped around him so tightly from that position. He would be able to watch you as you fell apart on top of him, his fingers between your legs as you would rise and fall.  He’d be right behind you, spilling into you and rutting upwards, even though you were both overstimulated.

Matt finished with a ragged moan at the thought of you whimpering, with him still sheathed inside you, too overwhelmed to even form words. He flowed onto his hand, over his fingers, hips jerking in aftershock. His chest heaved, sweat was running down his back. Matt stood, heading to wash his hands, flopping into his bed soon after. He breathed deeply, running his hand through his hair. He felt somewhat better, but also worse. He would have to tell you or you would never know. Know how much he wanted you, how much you meant to him… how much he loved you.

⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸⚸

You had flopped down in your bed almost immediately after showering, towel open beneath you. You had set the water to nearly scalding to soothe your sore body and you were cooling down. Matt had been very…. tactile this morning. It seemed like he took every opportunity that presented itself to touch you, trying to distract you and throw you off later. Or maybe he just wanted to touch you. You were both lonely and starved for touch, and the pair of you snuggling down on the couch while you read to him or described a movie for him wasn’t unheard of. You had both slept in the same bed more than once and woken up with an arm wrapped around each other or a hand reaching towards the other. You were almost always touching each other in some way, whether it was in a comforting way or if it was to tend to each other's wounds in the late night hours.

You contemplated some more, concluding that he had, in fact , been trying to throw you off. Matthew may be blind, but he wasn’t stupid. Far from it. He was exceedingly, and unfairly attractive and he knew it. The way he smirked and tilted his head so often during your training was a testament to that. While it annoyed you, it was also enticing to look at him. Between his ample lips and that Gods damned dimple? You often found yourself staring at them both, wondering what they would feel like on you, in more places than just your mouth. You pulled a pillow over your head and groaned in frustration. Matt was amazing, but he did not want you, not like that. He was still mourning Elektra, and you were his friend, his partner. You didn’t want to cross that line unless he invited it, didn;t want to push it or misread it. Matt and the Devil were one in the same, a multifaceted duality of a person. Complex and forthright, all at once.

Throwing the pillow back in its place, you couldn't help but think about the events of that morning. The same hands that knew such violence and inflicted pain could be gentle and soothing , like they had been today when he unwrapped your hands and worked magick with his own. The very hands that had gripped your hips, telling you to “Spread your legs a little wider for me. Just like that.” and had made you want to close your legs, want to rub your thighs together for a taste of friction. His voice had been low and demanding in your ear. It was a miracle you hadn’t asked him to touch you out of reflex. When he moaned at you pulling his hair to distract him, had he scented the change in you? The arousal that had made you want him, did he know? Or would he attribute it to your body’s natural reaction to the excitement of sparring and nothing more? The fact that Matthew could hear, taste, smell and feel on a much greater scale than the average human was both irritating and intoxicating. He would know exactly what you wanted, what you needed, without you having to utter a word.

Your hand traveled  upward, towards your throat that Matt had touched earlier. You would gladly have endured the pain it would cause you currently if he were to have applied pressure. You had almost fucking moaned at the contact, but had restrained yourself somehow. Your hand trailed down your skin, wishing it was the lightly calloused hands that had been on your earlier. You shivered at the thought of Matthew touching you like this, like you wanted him to. Would he be taken aback by your scars or turned on by them? You had many, maybe even more than he did.  You knew that the dominance he presented during training and fighting alongside you would most likely translate to the bedroom. If it had not been for your determination to make him submit to you, you would have given in the second he pinned you to the mat. You felt your hips rise slightly as your fingers ghosted over the cradle of your pelvis, moving even lower to the ache between your thighs.

It wouldn’t change anything between you if you thought of him while you touched yourself, so you had no reservations about it as your fingers found your core soaking. You drew small, languid circles around your clit, imagining it was Matt’s hands or better yet, his tongue. He was constantly licking his lips and it was often distracting to watch it glide over his pretty mouth. You wanted both his tongue and his lips on you, wherever he wanted, he could taste you. Imagining the scrape of his stubble against the inside of your leg sent a thrill through you. You could hear his voice in your head again, and you fixated on it, fingers moving a little faster now.

“Good girl. Just like that.”

A breathy, quiet moan escaped your lips at the reminder of his praise.  You felt the heat crawl up your legs- you wouldn’t last long if you kept envisioning what Matt would be like in bed. How he would feel touching you, fingers sliding inside you to tease you until you couldn’t stand it any longer and neither could he. How would he take you? Would he pin you down like earlier with both hands? Or would he hold you in one hand and wrap the other around your throat? You reveled at the thought of just giving yourself over to him and not having to think, only feel. You would let him do anything he wanted, and there wasn’t much you didn't find pleasure in. You would willingly submit to him, as long as that meant he was touching you. You felt the familiar heat twining low in your belly, and you felt your release climbing toward its end. Matt’s voice was burned into your mind, and it wasn’t hard to pretend you could feel the brush of his mouth behind your ear and you chased your orgasm.

“Good girl, cum for me.”

You cried out, eyes shutting hard as you writhed against your sheets. You panted, exhausted. You wanted Matt so desperately, and that alone sobered you. You had never been able to have casual sex or think of anyone casually and get off; you simply could not unless there was an emotional connection. You had been denying it all this time, but this was the final nail in the coffin. He deserved better than you, someone whole. There was so much you still hadn’t told him, had not been ready to tell him.

You were not sure you ever would be able to explain to him the horrors of your past, even though Matthew may very well be the only person to understand how much violence and pain it took to make you as gentle as you were sometimes.

You had told yourself over and over again You do not want him.

That you were just touch starved and lonely, and that he was off limits. You were both still grieving, and that wouldn’t be right.

Matt was in awe of you, even if he could not see you in the traditional sense. You looked truly ethereal in his mind, and that was all that mattered.You were above him, the sunlight streaming in from the window illuminating your body. Your hands were roaming across his chest, gently gliding over every scar. Your thighs wrapped around his hips were warm and soft against him, feeling almost as if they belonged there. Your hand reached for his face, cradling his jaw. His eyes closed as your  thumb trailed down across his lips, descending down his neck to reunite with the rest of your fingers as your hand came to rest at the base of his throat.

“You are beautiful Matt, for everything that you are.”

He shook his head. He lost his composure, for only a moment, every time you called him beautiful.

“You always catch me off guard when you do that.”

You let out your breathy, genuine laugh that made all the air in his lungs leave.

“When I do what? Tell the truth? When I tell you that you are beautiful and I mean it?”

Matt's hands slid up your thighs and onto your hips, holding you steady as he sat up. You let out a small noise of surprise as the motion shifted the two of you, hands grasping at his shoulders to keep you upright. You were closer now, chest to chest. 

“Don’t do that! I thought I was going to fall off the bed.” you protested, hand sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair. 

“I would never let you fall. ” he whispered, touching his forehead to yours. 

Matt felt your heart rate increase as his lips brushed yours, a ghost of a kiss. He was waiting for you to advance the movement. 

“Matt…” you breathed, your voice gentle, “I’ve fought like hell, and fighting like hell has made me what I am. And what I am… is that what you want?” 

He could hear the doubt in your voice, the fear.

“Say it again.”

Your head tilted, lips touching again as he spoke.

 “Say my name again.”

“Matthew.”

Hearing his name like this, it was enough to make him unhinged.

“You are what I want, sweetheart. I will take all of you, whatever that entails. But only if you want me.”

He had his answer as you closed the distance between you. Your mouth was as soft as he had imagined. As the intensity grew, you did not yield completely to him, seemingly fighting back for control of the kiss. It only made him want you more. His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, fingers reaching into your hair. Matthew pulled gently, and your head followed the motion, exhaling in pleasure. His mouth traveled down your neck, biting lightly and drawing blood beneath the surface of your skin as he breathed you in. A soft moan escaped your mouth in response. Matt wanted nothing more than to hear that sound again and again. 

His opposite hand grasped the back of your thigh, and he overturned you. Your hands reached for him, framing his face as you leaned upwards to kiss him. He felt your hand move down his spine, nails digging into his hip as he ground against you. 

“Can I show you how beautiful you are?” Matt gasped against your lips.

He was practically begging. He wanted to map every inch of your body, wanted to chart every star that made up the constellation of you. You nodded against his cheek as he moved downward again, his mouth and hands touching every curve, every scar that was you. He paused at your stomach, taking extra care to linger longer at the soft flesh that covered the hard muscle beneath it. He knew how much you hated it sometimes, even though you were mostly at peace with your body. Matt hooked his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, looking to you for confirmation. You nodded again, smoothing your hand through his hair. He tried, and failed to not rip them off too fast. The fabric tore and you laughed, shaking your head. Your laughing morphed into a sharp inhale as you felt Matt’s lips graze over your lower abdomen, just above the  apex of your body. You arched upward, shoulder blades leaving the mattress for a moment. 

“Matt, please.” you whimpered, desperate for him to stop teasing you. 

He laughed, smirk already climbing up his face. Matt wrapped one arm around your thigh, resting his hand in the same location where his lips had just been.

“Anything you want, as long as you ask like that.”

Before you could even voice the contemptuous comment he knew was on your tongue, his fingers slid inside you, stealing your breath and your words. Your hands grasped at the silk sheets of his bed as he began to move, and he smirked again.  Matt kissed up the inside of your thigh, slowly moving towards your center. A beautiful symphony of sounds spilled from your lips and Matt reveled in it, the noises you made were burned into his memory now. You cried out as his tongue found your clit, making small,languid circles that he knew would drive you out of your mind. Your hand found his, interlacing your fingers as you writhed beneath him. You got louder as you grew closer to the edge, and Matt chased after it, moving with purpose. Your cries grew strangled, almost as if you were gritting your teeth. You called out his name, but that too sounded hushed. You were screaming now, the noise deafened by the tightness of your mouth. Matt ceased, moving up to find the cause of your distress. You were screaming still. 

Matt awoke, startled and confused by his dream, among other feelings. Why had you started screaming? And why had it sounded like that?

He heard it again, but this was not in his dream. You were screaming, and your heart pounded like it was going to rupture through your chest. Matt leapt up from the table, tearing down the hall to your bedroom. Listening hard, he only heard your heart and your cat’s- you were alone. He felt like he couldn’t get the door open fast enough. Your mouth was closed, and you were crying out through your teeth. Your eyes were full of terror as you stared across the room, focused on the corner opposite of him. Matt moved, kneeling down beside you. 

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Whatever was happening, that this was a monster he couldn't fight. A villain he could not protect you from. He started to panic; he did not know what to do or how to help you.

Your eyes flicked towards him and the screaming stopped, but your whimpering did not. Eventually, your fingers twitched, and soon your hand followed. The weight on your chest lifted; you could breathe again. The thing in the corner disappeared, and you felt relieved.

Matt was taken aback when you shot up, arms reaching for him and holding onto him for dear life. You were gasping like there was no air in the room, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m going to go get you some water, okay?” he said, unsure of what else to do for you.

Matt moved to leave, placing his hands gently on your own to remove them. You only grasped at his shirt tighter.

“No, please don’t leave.” you pleaded, vulnerable.

You released your hold on his shirt, but his hands remained on yours. Asking for help was difficult for you, and Matt knew that. 

“Okay”, he whispered, coming back down to his knees, “I’ll stay until you tell me to go.”

You nodded, shaking. 

“You can come up here if you want. I just don’t want to be alone. ”

Under different circumstances, Matt would have been all too eager at the invitation. He stood, climbing into the other side of your bed, setting his back against the headboard. You curled up beside him, seeking comfort as he wrapped an arm around you. 

“What was that? What was happening?”

You let out a shuddered breath, heart still racing.

“I have something called sleep paralysis. It doesn’t happen all the time, only when I’m extremely stressed and it’s worse when I drink. That’s why I never do when we go out with Karen and Foggy.”

Matt was stunned. He had noticed that you did not partake, but never asked why. 

“How long did you think you could hide this from me?”

You shook your head.

“I wasn’t trying to hide it. It just hasn’t happened in months so I forgot about it to be honest.”

Truth.

“So what exactly happens? Can you explain it to me? I want to understand.”

“When you go to sleep, your body undergoes a form of paralysis to keep you safe. So if you're dreaming that you’re running, you don’t actually start running in your sheets and fall out of bed. When an episode of sleep paralysis happens, your brain is awake but your body isn’t yet, I guess is the best way to describe it.” 

“I see. What does that feel like? It sounds terrifying.”

“It is. I feel like there’s an enormous weight on my chest and I feel like I can't breathe. I can’t move,and my head is racing so fast I can’t even think through it. Sometimes the part of your brain that creates dreams is still active. You can see and hear things that aren’t there.”

Matt swallowed.

“So, is that why you were screaming? What did you see?”

Your head lowered, looking down at the bed. 

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I just want to be prepared for when and if this happens again.”

You took a deep breath. 

“It’s different every time, but usually it’s some physical manifestation of a mistake I’ve made. Sometimes it’s my mom, but she looks how she did right before she died. She looks gaunt, and too thin, and tired. Sometimes it’s some person I couldn’t stop from doing an evil thing. Sometimes it's… anyway, it’s never good. ”

You didn't dare tell him what you had just seen. It had been a twisted version of Matt himself, beaten, bloodied, and dying. The thought of Matthew dying was so terrifying to you, and your stress filled mind had taken that fear and made it almost real.

Matt nodded, now having some clarity.

“I used to have night terrors as a kid. It was right after I lost my Dad, and I would see some pretty awful things. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I was awake and saw it in the corner of the room. I’m sorry this happened tonight. ”

“Thank you.” you whispered, eyes closing as you felt Matt run his finger in your hair.

He heard your pulse slow down, and your breathing returned to normal after several minutes. You had truly been terrified of whatever you had seen.

“Matt?” you mumbled, half asleep. 

“Hmm?” he answered, nearly asleep himself. 

“Will you… will you stay with me? To sleep, I mean. ”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable. I would be a horrible person if i didn’t.”

The pair of you had snuggled down, your head resting on Matthew’s chest. His arms were around you, keeping you warm, and making you feel safe. He had stayed with you all night, just to ensure you were alright.

Now it was happening again. 

“I know you’re scared, but it’s not real. You haven’t had one of these in a while. Try to breathe. Focus on moving your fingers, one at a time.”

Matt would walk you through it, step by step. You panicked less, and would hallucinate for a shorter period of time when he did this. You still had a difficult time breathing, and being unable to move was still horrifying, but Matt had you. He was right there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Your hand eventually twitched, followed by the other. Soon, you could move again, breathe again. You gasped, straining for air like you always did when you had an episode. 

Matt touched his forehead to yours as soon as he realized it was over. 

“There you are. I thought I lost you for a second.” he smiled, kissing you gently.

“Thank you.” you whimpered, tears brimming your eyes.

Matt had done this on multiple occasions, but you were always ashamed and embarrassed every time.  

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” he soothed, rolling over and pulling you into him. 

“I know, Matty. You can go back to sleep, I’ll be okay if you don’t want to baby me.”

Lie.

Typically , an episode of sleep paralysis was followed by Matt playing with your hair and him placing kisses on your forehead, paired with words of reassurance that nothing was your fault and that he was not upset with you for waking him. 

“You are a terrible liar, you know that?”

He wouldn’t hear of it, of not taking care of you when you needed him. Not when you were there for him every time he had a moment of self loathing, or a lapse in his faith, even if it was not a faith you followed.

He felt you smile against his chest, and set to work on comforting you.

“Yeah, I am.” you agreed, already feeling your heart rate ease.