aheroliveshere | [for man_without

When the door shuts he sits up, taking a minute to inspect his shoulder and make sure the bandage is holding up after all the activity.

His head lifts when he hears her words and he has to smother a smirk.

Laying back on the bed happens with a bit more effort than it should as his body is well and truly done now and sore muscles and joints rise up to voice their protest.

Matt himself isn't complaining in the least, though, and when she comes back to join him he stretches out an arm to invite her to his side.

"Right here, where you left me," he reminds her with a smile that just manages to avoid smug.

Oh he thinks it avoids smug. He's not fooling anyone, least of all the naked woman sliding close to lie all along his side, one knee draped over his thigh. She's not concerned about it. He deserves to be smug after that performance.

Karen rests her head on his shoulder, careful to keep her hair clear of the bandage tape. She settles and lets out another sigh, letting the moment stretch.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I should have warned you. I get -- uh -- verbal. When I'm -- y'know."

He wraps his arm around her, holding her as she settles against him.

His chest stutters with a chuckle when she apologizes, and he squeezes her shoulder, smiling in amusement.

"It's okay, I took it all as a sign that things were going well." In truth her enthusiasm was a large turn on, something he'll be thinking about later when next she puts on the quiet, professional front.

"Just something to remember if you get a wild hair and decide to drag me into a broom closet at work. You have my permission to put a hand over my mouth, because I honestly don't even realize I'm doing it."

"Our office is a broom closet," he reminds her.

The thought does have quite a bit of appeal, though. Perhaps the next time Foggy is out of the office running solo...

Not letting that train of thought run too far he brings himself back to her. Since they're on the subject of admittance and apologies he makes his own to her.

"I hope I wasn't to ah-- vigorous."

She grins, hides her face against his shoulder, her cheeks flushing red for some stupid reason.

"Jesus, no. No, you were fine. Amazing." She shimmies a little closer, lifts her head so she can whisper against his ear, like she's afraid someone might over hear her.

"I like it a little rough."

Cue more blushing.

He ducks his head to listen, heat rising over his own features with her admission.

"You were really great, too." Just so she knows.

"I like getting to know this other side of you, Karen." Which is also to say he appreciates her letting him in to see it.

Her brow knits for a brief moment. She nuzzles his cheek, reveling in this intimacy from him, but still curious.

"What do you mean, other side?"

He's settling into that lull where content turns into relaxed turns into sleep. Her question catches him, but he has enough awareness left to know his answer might be one he should tread carefully with.

"None of us are completely who we show during the day," he says.

"Karen Page in the office is kind, and smart, and passionate about what she gets into. Now I also know she's brave enough to ask her boss out, she likes spicy Thai food and blushes when she's embarrassed," he lists out, voice teasing but also warm and fond.

"She's energetic in bed, drinks beer and not wine, even at home, and she's also forgiving." He gives her a smile then, and presses a kiss into her hair. "Even when the guy she's picked makes an ass of himself on their first date."

The last is said with the tone of an apology, and gratitude to her again for letting him stay.

She leans into that kiss, her eyes drifting closed. "You didn't make an ass of yourself. You were a dick. There's a difference." There's only a slight bit of petulance to her tone, and the words hold no heat.

"Wait." Her eyes open and she lifts her head, just enough to look at him. "How -- can you tell when I'm blushing?"

This is news to her.

"Noted," he replies, not about to argue the point.

He grins at her when she comes back to the blushing, his smile mischievous and amused.

"Your voice," he explains. "It flutters, like you're nervous and laughing at the same time. You also usually duck your head or cover your mouth so that I can't see you and it muffles what you're saying."

Reaching up he cups her cheek with his palm and adds, "And when we're touching I can feel it. In your hands, on your cheeks, the flush warms your skin."

She was going to ask more questions but something about his hand at her cheek gently dissolves the thought. It's a puff of wind on a dandelion head, and she would watch them go, but the warmth of his touch is distracting.

Her eyes fall closed and she leans in to kiss that dangerous mouth of his, tasting him because she wants to. Because he lets her.

Eventually, she finds the breath to ask, "What else can you feel?"

He continues to cradle her cheek as they kiss, holding her close as their mouths meet.

His blood is up again when they break and he smooths his palm back to run fingertips through her hair; considering his answer. He could tell her he feels almost everything. That his fingertips are sensitive enough to read newsprint in a paper, or handwriting on a page. He could tell her he knows her sheets are printed and he can feel the images even if he hasn't bothered to determine what they are.

He could also tell her that he can feel her pulse through her skin without having to seek out a point. Her heartbeat isn't just a sound in his ears, it's a thrum he feels from every point of contact his body has against hers.

He could, if he were able to share that much with her.

"You'd be surprised," he says instead, continuing to smile at her, lowering his voice as he drops his hand from her hair to her nape, then down her shoulder and side.

"The smoothness of your skin, goosebumps when it prickles, and when your breath catches and you shiver, sometimes I feel that, too."

By the time his hand reaches her hip, she's breathing high and tight, vibrating with desire. She can't help but touch in return, hands skimming over his chest again, firmer this time. Up to his throat, down to his waist, over the flat expanse of his stomach, exploring, savoring every inch. Teasing in her own way, but making promises, too.

Her voice trembles as she talks, spilling secrets now. Baring herself to him in other ways.

"I watch you reading sometimes, and I think -- I wish that was me. Usually, it's just my back. When I think about it, I imagine what it would be like to have you -- focus on me like you do your work, sometimes. Just to have you read me from cover to cover. All my secrets. All of me. At your fingertips."

It's hard not to get distracted by her. The feel of her hands running over his body has him pausing more than once. His chest rises and falls beneath the press of her palms and his abs flex when her exploring hands drop lower.

He continues sliding his hand down. Listening to her admission his hand slips from her hip around her waist, his palm settling in the middle of her back. Slowly, deliberately he starts to map her skin out with his fingertips; starting first with her lower back, dipping into the small dimple of her tail bone and gliding upwards along her spine.

When he reaches her neck he leans into her again, kissing her briefly before speaking in her ear. "I don't like a lot of perfumes," he admits. "My nose... I just don't. But when you come in, and I smell that jasmine scent you wear, it drives me crazy."

As he speaks his fingertips keep moving, his other hand joining in. From the column of her spine his hands move out, following the lines of her shoulder blades, then trailing lower, fingers spread, feeling out her ribs and the spaces between them.

"There are times when I really did want to drag you into a broom closet, just to breath you in."

In all her fantasies, she never imagined it could be this good. His hands move to her back and all capacity for rational thought evaporates. Goose bumps rise again, and he chases them up her spine into her hair, leaving her breathless, shivering with anticipation. Her eyes close, her lips part and she writhes gently, trying to get more of whatever the hell he's doing to her.

He's talking again, whispering in her ear, his voice like liquid honey poured directly on her brain. He's talking about dragging her into a closet and she catches his face between her palms again, pulls him into another deep and almost desperate kiss.

Next time, he might have to tie her up first, if he really wants to learn every inch of her without her interfering.

He kisses her while his hands continue to explore. Her movements don't hinder him at all, his hands simply take a new course when she shimmies or flexes enough to alter their path.

His fingers trace out every line of bone and muscle across her back, skimming as far forward as to brush the sides of her ribs and curves of her breasts, then returning again to the center and flowing down the small of her back to her hips and her ass which he gives a proper squeeze.

Little sounds of pleasure start low in the back of her throat, and it's clear, she's trying to be a bit more restrained this time. It almost gets away from her with that squeeze, but she swallows it down somehow. But his touch, it does things to her. It sets up a resonance in her bones, and she vibrates with it.

One hand steals between them, down his side, down through the dark thatch of fur at the of his abdomen, down to wrap around his cock. The first time she's held him in her palm, and greedy as her hands are, they are also reverent. Light and delicate, down lower to cup and weigh his balls, back up to encircle the shaft.

She breaks their kiss with a harsh breath. "I want to taste you." She whispers the words against the side of his throat, her hot mouth trailing down as she shifts lower. Down his collarbone, down his sternum, her breath feathering against his navel. All the while, her hand stroking, calling him back to her.

His hands slide back up her back and come to rest on her shoulders as she moves away from him down his body. Already coming around, her touch is electrifying and he hardens in her grasp.

Staring sightlessly up at the ceiling his mouth falls open and there's tension running through every muscle in anticipation as she moves lower.

She takes her time, just as he did caressing her back. She eases him over onto his back, and then continues to kiss and nuzzle and lick her way over his abdomen, and lower. Still holding him in her palm, she exhales a warm breath along the keel of his cock, then smiles, her kiss moving to brand his hip instead.

She draws the tip of her nose down the crease of his thigh, down to the base, and another little sound of pleasure escapes her. She licks a hot stripe from base to crown, slow as molasses in winter.

His hands fall away from her shoulders and one finds a knot of bed sheet to clutch as she taunts him. His breath catches several times, releasing in a throaty chuckle that's wickedly bemused when her lips land elsewhere again.

His mouth is opening to say something, expecting another tease, but then her tongue is painting a white hot line along his length and the words get garbled in his throat and come out a low groan.

"Jesus-- Karen... "

She barely gives him time to draw another breath, taking him over her lips and suckling in more than half his length with a low groan of hunger. Her free hand steals up his torso, fingers splayed wide. The other works the slickness of her saliva all the way to the root, a gentle counterpoint to her wicked mouth.

Stealing away Matt's capacity for language may have been another fantasy of hers. She pays him back for torturing her earlier with that one fingertip, all the while listening to every groan, every shift of tension, everything he's telling her with his body. Learning him, how to read him, how to please him. He'll thank her later, she's sure.

He gulps that breath and it's a moan now he lets out on a shaky exhale.

His hand fisted in the sheet twists the cloth and his other finds the top of her head, threading trembling fingertips through her hair. She's doing all of the work, but his chest if heaving. If she wanted to rob him of words she's managed it, because as her lips and tongue work him over the only things he's able to get out are soft swears and blasphemies, and her name.

Those quiet litanies are music to her ears, only spurring her on. She brings him to the very edge and pulls back enough to tease with just her lips, just the barest tip of her tongue painting spirals and swirls, tormenting him until she just can't help herself any longer.

She stalks up his body, pausing only long enough to wrap her breasts around his aching length, feeling the heat and hardness against her sternum as she presses open mouthed kisses to his chest. Up and up, until she straddles his hips, catching him in hand and continuing the theme by sliding him along the crux of her thighs. Not taking him in yet, but feeling the whole length of him regardless. Savoring him like this, undone by her touch alone.

She kneels above him, one hand still splayed on his chest, as if she could hold him there, pinned, while she has her way with him.

His lips part in warning then shut in teeth clenched frustration when she brings him close then leaves him to teeter on the edge without giving him the final push to fall over it. It's delicious torture and as much as he wants to topple over the ledge, the way she's keeping him balanced on the knifes edge feels too good to complain about.

His hand moves from her hair when she starts up his body and it's ready to reach out and pull her to him, but she stops to tease him again. His hand hangs open in the air as she kisses his chest and works his cock between her breasts. When she finally moves above his lap his hand seizes her waist, needing some way to ground himself, some way to urge her to give him what he's desperate for now.

Hips arching of their own accord as she rubs her wetness over him, he starts to rise so that he might kiss her, but that palm on his chest keeps him in place.

"Karen... " he grates, control all but gone, voice all but begging her.

[for man_without_fear]

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