aheroliveshere | [for man_without

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."

With her above him his hands slip down her sides, mapping her figure before coming to rest on her hips. His thumbs slip inward, grazing her belly, teasing along the hemline of her sweats.

He can't hold still either and when she moves against him his hips arch, first on reflex, and then again to prove he isn't the only one driving the other crazy. His blood is boiling in his veins and it's because of her.

"I love it, too" he teases and smirks as he kisses her.

He presses back and she gasps, a frisson running through her entire body. Gradually, she pulls away from the kiss and pushes herself up, hands splayed flat on his chest. She comes to rest astride him, looking down at him with a wildness in her eyes.

She catches his hands and brings them under her shirt, just to her waist.

"Show me."

He doesn't need to be prompted further.

His hands make contact with her skin and immediately begin to explore her. Palms and fingertips (which are maybe a bit rougher than a lawyer's should be) smooth over her flesh, starting first with her waist and belly, then running around to skim up her back.

With his arms wrapped around her he holds her in place on his lap and sits up, the motion effortless and the aim to get closer to her and kiss her again as one hand moves around to her front and gently cups her breast.

Goosebumps rise under his fingertips, her own personal braille message to him, telling him exactly how good he feels, how much she wants this, how long she's wanted this. Goosebumps across her belly, her back, down her arms, up her chest. She wraps her arms around his head, kisses him through the breathless shudders. His palm finds her areola ruched tight and her nipple hard, and she's breathing like she's running for her life. Chasing the next tender mouthful, the next bright wash of heat from below, where she can feel him through his trousers, the next quiet rumble of his voice resonating in her chest.

Matt can run a mile while leaping across rooftops and hardly break a sweat, but right now with her his chest is heaving while his heart races along with it.

He reads her, his fingers feeling her prickled flesh, every hitch and shudder his touch causes. He hears her, the soft gasps and moans, when her breath catches and the thrum of her heart. Perspiration and more is in the air and all of it tells him what she wants.

Removing his hand from her breast he takes both hands out from beneath her shirt and reaches for the hem of it, drawing the t-shirt up to take it off of her.

She lifts her arms long enough for him to strip the shirt off her, and god damn she's glad she took her bra off when she got home and changed. She slips her hands between them, greedy fingers working the buckle of his belt.

She grins against his lips, stealing more kisses, breathing his breath, his own excitement fueling hers, like pouring gasoline on a bonfire.

"I'm the lucky one," she breathes.

The shirt gets tossed carelessly aside and his hands seek her skin again, grabbing her and pulling her close to press his chest to hers, feeling her skin with the expanse of his.

He only creates space in the name of giving her access to his waist. While she works on his belt he goes for her neck, kissing her and grazing her skin with tongue and teeth as his hands wander her back, trying to stay out of her way.

"Hm, your argument?" he asks, smiling against her skin, already knowing that she can't convince him the lucky one here isn't him. She's better than he deserves, and by some miracle the date he ruined tonight has still found them here now.

Her hands stutter in their movements, her chin tipping up and her head falling to one side, inviting his exploration of her throat. It takes a moment for her to regain her thought process, and the belt gets stripped out of his trousers and joins her shirt on the floor.

"I see you," she breathes, trying to find the words. "I see how hard you fight to keep everyone at arm's length. Even Foggy."

She leans into him, her hands cradling his face, moving to delve into his thick hair, her nails grazing his scalp.

"I'm not giving up on you. Never gonna happen."

He pauses for a moment hearing her words, his chin on her palms and his expression shifting; apology, guilt, and something else flashing across his features.

His eyes meet hers, and sightless or not they still seem to be searching.

"Sometimes it's safer that way." For them, for him; there are so many ways for them to be hurt if he let anyone all the way in.

"I don't care," she says. Her hands stroke his hair back from his brow, her touch almost reverent. "I want this. I want you in my life. I know that scares you for some reason."

She leans forward and rests her forehead against his. "It scares me, too."

But it's the truth. And she's always preferred the terrifying truth to comforting lies.

A part of him wonders if she would care if she had the full truth and knew his history. What he does and has done, how so many of the people he's cared about have been hurt, or left.

The rest of him though, shoves those thoughts aside, not letting fear make him back out now.

His hand raises and he reaches for her, his forefinger and thumb tucking against her chin and holding her.

"I want this, too," he says at last. When he leans in and kisses her again it isn't with the frenetic pace of before. It's slow and deep and far more meaningful.

He's willing to try. Letting her in won't happen all at once, but if she's promised not to give up on him, he's going to fight to make this work.

[for man_without_fear]

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