aheroliveshere | [for man_without

Tension he didn't realize he was carrying eases out of him at her acceptance, and for the first time in a long time he feels hope.

He smiles when she does, a low, warm, happy chuckle vibrating in his throat.

Laying back with the push she gives him he shakes his head, "I don't know," and moves his hands to deal with button and zipper on his pants to rectify that.

She has to shift off of him, lying on her back to shimmy out of her own pants. He can feel her feet flutter as they tangle in her panties, and something goes zinging across the room. The air grows thick with the scent of her musk, and she keeps one hand on him, eyes wide, eager to continue exploring him in a whole new way.

He shucks his pants and boxers, letting them fall over the edge of the bed before rolling onto his side to face her. There's the shimmer of nerves that always happens the first time with someone, but they're the good kind. The butterflies in your stomach kind.

He's eager as well, and when she's ready he reaches out, laying his hand on her shoulder at first, fingertips toying with her collarbone teasingly before sliding lower down to her breast. He wants to look at her, to take her in in his own way.

"Did I mention you were beautiful?" he asks with a smirk, his thumb stroking across her nipple.

She pillows her head on her arm, her free hand resting on his chest, smoothing down over his ribs, careful to avoid the still fresh bruises there.

"You might have said that, I think," she says, grinning like the proverbial kid in a candy store. "Did I mention I think you're sexy as hell?" God, the words that come out of your mouth, Karen, sometimes I swear.

She has a reason for being a little distracted, a little out of breath, with his hand playing over her body like that. She tries to even the playing field a bit, hooking one heel behind his calf and drawing it up to his knee, pulling his leg gently between her thighs.

As her fingers trail down his sides jump, more from the graze of her touch than reaction to any tender spots.

Letting out a low chuckle he gives her his leg, sliding his knee between her legs while shifting closer.

"You said I drive you crazy, but I took that more as I make you mad than anything else," he replied, clearly teasing.

Meanwhile his hand continues to map her, moving from one breast to the other, following the line of her sternum down, drifting slow and purposefully down her belly towards her naval.

She laughs. "Well, you're not wrong. Oh holy fuck."

Her breathing grows quick and shallow again, her lips parted, her heart pounding. She's transfixed by the path his hand is taking, her stomach muscles fluttering under his fingertips. Her knee caresses up his thigh, drawing him in at the same time as she opens to him. Her hand comes to rest on the back of his.

"I've dreamed what it would be like, you running your hands all over me."

"No pressure, right?" he says with a smirk that belies the fact that his heart just skipped a beat or two on her admission.

He shifts closer still when she does, feeling her heat on his skin.

Her trembling beneath his touch prompts him to take his slow and lazy time tracing a path down with his fingers, leading her hand over his, circling her belly button twice before finally gliding lower still. He leans in and nuzzles her nose with his first, and then he kisses her as his hand finally slips in between her thighs, feeling her wetness.

He catches her lips as she gasps, and she can't hold back the quiet moan. She can't get enough of kissing him, can't help but drink deep from his lips and drown in his scent. Her hips cant into his touch, and he finds her slick and hot as an overripe summer peach.

His touch is delicate and precise, and with just one fingertip, he sets her whole body alight. She doesn't want to rush this part. She wants this moment to last forever.

He doesn't want her to hold back, in fact he encourages her by kissing her deeper while his hand caresses her below.

In moments like these there is a definite benefit to having an extremely sensitive sense of touch. He can feel her every reaction, each trembling hitch, catch of her breath, urging shift of her hips, and the tiny minutia that tell him exactly how he's making her feel.

He wants to give her everything she wants, and like her he wants it to last. That being said his pace is slow, almost torturous, seeking out those spots she wants him, but dragging out getting there; dancing close and then away, moving over, but not lingering.

It isn't long at all before he has her completely wound up. Her arms encircle his neck and she returns that deep kiss, almost growling under her breath. He teases her and she gasps, telegraphing every sweet spot, and when he glosses over them, she whimpers in delicious frustration. He draws her out, and she rises for him, until she can't help but roll over on her back, bringing him with her. This way her hips can lift off the bed, chasing those devilishly enticing fingers of his, wanting more, silently begging for more.

"Matt..."

So much heat and hunger wrapped around his name. She's exposed and vulnerable and it's fucking amazing.

He rolls with her, planting knees into the mattress to keep himself above her, the upper half of his weight resting on an elbow while his other hand continues to play her like an over-tightened bow string.

It isn't just winding her up, though. Touching her, hearing her moan and say his name, the scent of her strong on the air, and all the naked flesh between them, he's driving up the wall, too, and ready to snap.

Bowing his head under her arms and leaning in, his breath falls on the sensitive skin of her neck and he whispers into her ear, "Karen, I want you."

It's then he slides a finger into her, giving into that begging, but knowing there's still more.

She arches into him, holding tight to wherever she can reach, his shoulder, his neck, needing as much skin to skin contact as she can get. When he finally, finally slips into her, she lets slip a sound that is nothing but raw pleasure given voice. Her hips dance under his palm, a deep, decadent undulation in time with his agonizingly slow pace.

His words draw a stuttering nod from her, quick birdlike motions and a fervently hissed "YES", almost lost in another breathless string of profanity. If he has any doubt at all that she feels the same, then he is not paying attention.

In fact he's paying very close attention. Enough so that even though he's giving her what she wants, it isn't everything and he keeps her on a precipice with it.

Not for long, though. He eases his finger out of her, giving her one last caress while shifting above her, nudging her knee with his, asking for more room so he can settle in between her legs.

She welcomes him into her arms, catching his face in her hands and demanding more of those lush kisses, more of his own hunger, more of the wildness she knows lurks just beneath the surface. Her knees rise and she wraps her long legs around him, heels urging him closer. Her hands find their home in his hair, and she drags her nails down his neck to the tops of his shoulders, letting him feel how desperate she is for more of this, more of him.

He bends low, his chest brushing hers while he lets her pull him in. He shares that hunger and the urgency to let out what is inside is growing.

He's hard and aching and anymore teasing would be too much to take. When her legs wrap around him he shifts his hips and reaches down, guiding himself to her entrance. His shoulders arch under the graze of her nails and he pulls his lips from hers, wanting to hear and feel her reactions as he pushes into her.

She looks up into his face, knowing he can't see her, but uncaring of the fact. She knows he can feel her, hear her, smell her, taste her. She loses her breath as he penetrates her, a long, low keen of bliss rising in her chest. Her hands cling to him, and her heels dig in, urging him to fill her, to take every inch of what she's offering to him.

She can't keep still, even with his torturous pace, and her head falls back, her hips writhing and curling against him. She throbs around him, strong and soft all in the same breath, and he can feel her fierce desire for him in every sigh, in every beat of her heart.

Her reactions flood his senses and a low deep moan rumbles in his own chest as he slides into her. He pushes forward under her urging until he's inside her to the hilt.

Holding isn't an option, not with her arching against him and his own urgent need and so he begins to move into her, drawing back and then pushing forward in a steady rhythm. He recaptures her mouth with his and gets an arm underneath her, pulling her close against him as he buries himself inside of her.

He feels amazing, better than she even imagined, and she can't get enough of touching him, feeling him, everywhere, her hands devouring every inch of skin. She meets him halfway, whimpering against his lips, her hips angling to meet his every thrust. She's covered in a fine sheen of sweat and even though she's on her back, she's strong enough to dance with him.

One hand fumbles over her head for his, and she laces her fingers through his, palm to palm.

He squeezes her hand, grip tight as he thrusts harder into her. The feel of her around him is sending him up a steep slope and he breathes hard against her while they climb.

Trailing his mouth from hers across her cheek he bows his head to kiss her neck, tongue swiping her skin before his teeth lightly graze her earlobe. Her fingers are on his skin and her flesh is pressed to his, and still he wants her closer. His arm flexes around her and he holds her tighter, pushing deeper, refusing to let space exist between them.

"There! Right there." His sharp, deep thrusts, angled just so, hit that sweet spot and she thinks she's gonna lose her mind. "Fuck, Matt. Harder. Please!"

Her head tips back and she arches hard, telling him exactly what she needs with the taut lines of her body. Every thrust draws a louder cry from her, and he can hear her ascending, feel her striving for him, with him.

He responds to her words and her body's pleas, revisiting those strokes that draw the strongest reactions and adding more power each time. Every thrust jars her body and the bed they're on and any restraint he might have been showing til now has vanished.

"Christ. Karen."

He groans into her hair, pleasure and pressure growing with every heartbeat. There's a coil in the pit of his belly that's winding tighter and tighter and drawing near the point of snapping and he hangs on hoping it breaks when she does.

Later, maybe she'll fixate on the moment he said her name, when she's alone with her aching hand between her thighs and needs something to push herself over the edge. When she's reliving this moment, trying to hold onto how good he feels and how stupid she is for ever being mad at him or how much she loves him, so much that when she's all alone, the sheer power of the emotion brings tears to her eyes.

But in the moment, feeling his restraint fall away, her entire awareness fold downs to this: the way he moves inside her, the way his breath feels in her ear, the way his skin feels all along her body, the way he's giving himself to her. In this moment, she dissolves. She hits her peak and he can feel hard shudders take her entire slim frame, muscle and tendon and bone all straining with the force of it.

Later, maybe she'll be embarrassed by how she babbles her pleasure in soft whispers, half-profanity, half-prayers. But for now? He is her universe entire.

His nerve endings are all live hot wires and he couldn't begin to describe the sensory overload if he tried. The beginning and end of it is that it feels amazing, she's amazing and if his strength and nature allowed it he'd stay inside her for always.

As it is muscles already sore from earlier are beginning to tremble, and nature requires release. His coordination is shot and it's instinct now driving his hips into her working toward the end of this marathon.

His breath catches in his lungs but he doesn't stutter a beat when he feels her reach the end. Instead he pushes harder, dredging up a final wind to find the edge and fall over it. A deep thrust gets him there and he sucks in a sharp gasp before he tumbles into the free fall of climax and the world is a wash of perfect pleasure.

She hits the end and he keeps going, holding her there in a halo of bliss until she can't think, she can't breathe, she can't do anything but hold on until she feels him join her. Oh and if he was attractive before, Matt Murdock completely undone is the stuff of dreams. His voice resonates in her chest, and she clings to him, kissing his hair, his cheek, her hips still undulating, the motion pure reflex. It carries them both, soaring, drifting, spiraling through to their descent.

She breathes him in, her muscles going slack one by one, until she's melting back into the mattress. Her legs still hold him about the waist, and even though her thighs are trembling, she doesn't seem inclined to let him move away. Not yet.

"Fucking hell." There's a grin in her voice. A whisper of pure guileless delight.

He comes down by fractions, hips slowing, breathing hard, his chest still crushed against hers. Spent out, his arms just manage to hold his weight up above her, but he isn't ready to move away yet, either.

Her final sigh after the litany he's listened to stream from her makes him chuckle and he presses his forehead to hers, grinning.

"Fucking hell is right."

[for man_without_fear]

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