aheroliveshere | [for man_without

Oh.

She tastes him for the first time, and it's like tasting heaven. She kisses him back, gentle and soft, every line in her body thrumming with energy. Her hands skim up his shoulder, fretting like restless sparrows at the back of his neck before her fingertips weave in his hair.

God, he makes her crazy and it's so very worth it, here in this moment.

He leans into the kiss a bit more, deepening it a fraction further before finally breaking, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

His fingertips trace around her ear and his thumb strokes her cheek and he for a moment he just breathes her in, listening to the drum of her heart, feeling the warmth of her closeness.

Enjoying this moment.

Her fingertips knead in his hair for a moment before her hands caress down his neck. She wants to touch him, everywhere. All over. Wants to kiss every scar, every bruise.

He's always so tightly wrapped, so buttoned up, and she just wants to undo all of that, wants to get at the truth in the center of all this mess. All of that energy churns in her chest, and she tries to breathe through it. Her hand shifts to brush his hair back, to cup his cheek.

"Can you stay?"

Please, say yes. Please.

He pulls in a slow breath, wrestling with what he wants and what may be better sense.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt her, but right next to that is leaving her.

His hand trails down from her face, following the line of her shoulder down her arm and settling at her waist.

"Is that a good idea?"

They just ended an argument on an up and down night. While Matt knows well and good how nice makeups can be, he wants things with Karen to mean more than that.

He doesn't have the willpower to say 'no', though, and if she asks again he'll stay.

She chin lifts at the caress and she rocks into him, pulling in another unsteady breath. A distant part of her wants to poke him about what is and isn't a good idea, because he's really not in a place to talk. But that doesn't matter.

"I want you to stay." She doesn't know if it's a good idea, and she really doesn't care. All she knows is that if this slips through her fingers, if this one good thing slips away, she'll never forgive herself.

She closes her eyes, breathes him in, her brow pressed to his. Waiting for him to give her another excuse, another reason why this thing that they both want, that she knows they both want, can't happen.

He doesn't need to read her heartbeat to know she's telling the truth. She wants this, and so does he.

Smiling softly, he gives a small nod.

"Okay."

All the air goes out of her lungs in a rush, and she laughs, the sound breathless and light. She touches his face again, caresses along his jaw, down to his bare chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replies. "I want to stay."

She grins, nods again, over and over. "Yeah, okay. Okay."

She pulls back just a little to look down at him, to catch his hands in hers. Gently, she tugs him to his feet, wraps her arms around his neck as he stands.

Her enthusiasm is enough to get him smiling, and to make him ignore the small protests his body puts up when he stands. He'll be sore and achy in the morning, but who the hell cares when she's smiling and has her arms around him?

His own arms go around her waist, pulling her up to him as he bends to kiss her.

She surges up to meet him, tasting his mouth once -- twice -- before rising on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her whole body rocks into him, trusting him to catch her. She's always known he was built beneath those prim white shirts and suit jackets, but now, running her hands over his shoulders, it really hits home. Jesus, Mary, Joseph.

He supports her as if she weighs nothing, strong arms holding her against him.

He deepens the kiss, his lips meeting hers in earnest while one hand skims along her side while the other holds her close and tight.

She matches him, breath for breath, kiss for kiss, throwing herself into it with almost reckless abandon. She sinks into kissing him, her heart pounding in her chest, every inch of her skin awake and alive. He'd caught her in her sleepwear, just yoga pants and an old t-shirt, and for some reason, she didn't really care. This close, he couldn't miss the way her hips rocked into his, or the way she tried to keep quiet and just only just failed.

"Bedroom?"

His fingertips seek skin where they can reach it, skimming under the hem of her t-shirt, cupping her cheek, and running along her bare arms.

His senses are on fire and he's searching for a wall to back them into when she comes up with a much better suggestion.

Breaking so he can speak and nod he breaths out, "Yeah."

She has to pull away, so she catches his hands in hers, draws him away from the living room.

"It's just through here. Sorry, I didn't tidy up. I wasn't expecting y'know, company."

She keeps him close, guiding him into what she thinks is unfamiliar territory. "Dresser on your right, bed, straight ahead. Bathroom is in the south corner, when you need it."

There's a breathless playfulness running under her words, and it feels like the events of earlier are completely forgotten in the wake of the development.

"It's alright," he assures her, letting her lead the way. Inside the room he tries to maintain the closeness but a loose shoe on the ground catches him and trips him up a step.

Glasses jostled, he reaches up to adjust them with a chuckle. "I think I've got an okay lay of the land."

"Sorry, sorry," she breathes. She stops him just beside the bed itself, her hands skimming up his chest to his face, obviously savoring every inch of skin as she goes.

"May I?" Gingerly, she takes his glasses from him. "I'm just going to put them on the nightstand, just here."

"It's fine," he laughs, feeling the edge of the bed brush his leg just as she stops them.

He holds still when she reaches for his glasses, blinking slowly when they're gone. He doesn't take them off much around other people, Foggy and maybe one other person being the exception. The excuse is that it makes people uncomfortable, the truth is sometimes it makes him uncomfortable, too.

Tonight here with her, though, she has him at ease. He relaxes and smiles, nodding to her.

"Okay."

Once that's done, she catches his face and draws him close for another kiss, lingering this time in the soft, sweetness of his mouth. So many little moments like this she wants to cherish, to savor. Learning how to share each other's space.

"Come lie down," she whispers. They can make out like college kids, on top of her Avengers bed spread, proof positive that she didn't expect company. Later, it might occur to her that Matt would miss that one key detail.

He takes a moment to remove his shoes before following her down onto the bed.

Nuzzling into the hollow of her neck and shoulder he breaths in deep and smiles.

"I meant to tell you, you looked beautiful tonight." In all those ways that he could see her.

She wraps her arms around him, pulls him close, tangles her legs with his. Like any air at all between them is too much. Her head curls against his and she shudders at the feel of his breath against her throat.

"Don't need to sweet talk me anymore, Matt," she murmurs, kissing his temple. She's trying to be careful of the bruises and the wound, but she still wants to touch him, everywhere. She trusts him to tell her if he's tender somewhere.

Her head dips and she seeks out his mouth with her own, that same hunger flaring bright. She hums against his mouth, wanton little sounds of pure pleasure that vibrate in her chest.

His own arms go around her, holding her secure against him. His chest rises and falls with hers and the sounds of their heartbeats drum loud in his ears.

"I did kind of end our date before we got to that part," he says, wry, before he kisses her. The sounds from her sink into him and her warmth melts away the tension from earlier.

He has sore spots, sure, but none of those really matter right now. The glance of her fingertips and smoothness of her palms on his skin are worth the small tenses when she finds a tender spot and as long as his shoulder doesn't bleed anymore he doesn't really care.

She laughs under her breath, wrinkling her nose, which makes kissing hard. She whispers against his lips, one hand skating down to the small of his back, her fingertips drawing idle circles in the soft hair she finds there.

"You're not very good at this part, are you? You can either go back to telling me how beautiful you think I am, which is a real stretch considering I'm in a t-shirt and sweatpants, or you can change the subject entirely."

He chuckles, the sound reverberating in his chest, and smiles against her mouth.

"I wasn't talking about your wardrobe. You, Karen, you're beautiful." She's strong and confident, and kind. Daring and fearless in her own way.

Shifting on the bed he rolls onto his back and draws her with him so that he can hold her close and run fingers through her hair.

"You inspire me, and I just-- feel lucky to be around you."

That said he leans in to kiss her again, his lips parting when they meet hers.

She moves with him, willingly, eagerly even, shifting to rise above him. She comes to rest on his chest, straddling his hips, and she rewards his words with a soft, breathless moan, sinking into kissing him like he's the most decadent thing she's ever tasted. Like she can't get enough, which is the god's honest truth.

Slotted together like this, it's impossible to keep still and she doesn't want to. She wants him to know exactly what he does to her. "You make me crazy," she breathes, rolling her hips into his. "And I love every fucking second of it."

[for man_without_fear]

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