blindfighter | There was a time when I was good, but there are witches in the woods.

There was a time when I was good, but there are witches in the woods.

It's around 630 when Matt stops pretending to be asleep.

Though that's a lie, just a tad--Matt has slept. On and off, on his silk sheets and curled up naked with another man in what feels like forever. It's nice, and for a few hours it lasts. It really and truly lasts, and Matt can hear the steady beating of Tim's heart. He can hear every creak as his bones adjust, can still smell scotch and bourbon as he exhales in his sleep. It's not the kind that's overwhelming, it's natural and in a way comforting.

But it's still another person and Matt Murdock is used to being alone. He's used to not getting close.

He's used to one night stands and relationships that barely last a month, if that. He's used to Foggy clapping him on the shoulder and telling him there'll be more.

He's used to going to their place. This is the first time he's brought someone home.

Someone here.

He's brought people over, but not for a one night stand. This is a different circumstance in many ways--mostly that they're going to see each other again. They're going to pass each other in the courtrooms even if they're not going to actively see each other although, if Matt's being honest, he does want to. It had been one of the best lays in a while.

And that's how, at exactly 6:40 in the morning, Matt Murdock decides he can't get used to it just yet. So instead, he gets to work. Turns the alarm off to let Tim sleep in, gets half-dressed (socks, slacks and a dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the collar a little rumpled), and is in the kitchen. He gets to work.

If this is a one-night stand with special circumstances, he may as well make breakfast. That includes half a grapefruit for each of them, fresh fruit, and Matt himself is in the middle of cooking up some of the bacon and eggs. Simple and scrambled, but if there's one thing Matt can do better than most thanks to his olfactory senses being heightened, it's cook.

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He's never been more lucky in his entire life, that his police officer boyfriend with that sickeningly devious voice is so great at head. What's more, he loves giving it.

Matt has definitely found a keeper.

His head gets tilted to the side, humming pleasantly as Tim sucks on his neck. Matt allows it because it's like a keepsake; and where normally he has to wear a suit and shirt that would expose it, it's different here. It won't matter. All that matters is that Tim is here and he's Tim and--

That hand palms his dick through his pants and he sinks into the couch, eyes slipping closed. He brings a hand up to feel Tim's face, sliding down to Tims neck and running a thumb along the other's jawline.

"Yeah," He manages. He knows how much Tim loves this. Matt loves that Tim loves this, too.

He loves this. He really does. He loves being on his knees between Matt's legs, loves having that hand on his face, on his jaw, sliding along his neck. It works out well. He likes giving it and he's good at it, and it's not like anybody hates getting head. Matt certainly doesn't. And it's a very good alternative right now to fucking.

He'll let Matt make it up to him when he's better. When he's well enough to properly fuck Tim into the mattress.

Still watching Matt's face, he slips his hand into the other's underwear, curling his fingers around Matt's cock without freeing it from the sweatpants. He strokes, slow and firm, turning his head for a brief moment to kiss Matt's wrist.

"You know," he murmurs, sounding a little bit thoughtful. "I think this is my favorite thing. Between your legs like this, watchin' you while I have your cock in my mouth, tastin' you on my tongue."

He frees Matt's dick from the confines of the sweatpants, stroking a little bit quicker now, thumb brushing over the head. When he speaks again, he drops his voice, adjusts the pitch, using that tone that he learned drives Matt wild some time ago. "Reckon I'd be happy doin' this all damn day."

Matt's eyes are still closed, a swallowing a lump in his throat as Tim continues to touch and tease, a perfect build up. That hand goes under his briefs and his nostrils flare, lips parting just a bit. He'd love to grab him and kiss him, but right now he'd essentially St the other's mercy. It's something Matt is oddly okay with.

His mouth quirks into a half smile--the kiss on his wrist, those words. He's about to say something when Tim does it. Just a subtle lowering of that already beautiful voice does a number of things--he moans, unable to help himself, his hand tightens on the other's jawline out of surprise and he's rock fucking hard in Tim's hands.

"/Tim/," He says, as if warning the other sternly. "Not fair."

Tim smiles, and he's sure Matt can tell, if not because of the grip the other has on his jaw then from some other super human reason. Sometimes, Matt's abnormally heightened senses are a good thing. Because that means that sometimes, Tim can get Matt hard with just saying a few words.

He likes it. It's fun, it's effective. It makes Matt moan and handle Tim roughly.

"What's not fair?" Tim asks, his voice smooth and normal for those three words before dipping down again. "This?"

His hand twists, thumb moving along the underside of Matt's cock, stroking over the head on the upstroke. It's that same, low-pitched tone when he speaks again. "Or this?" Then he leans forward, Matt's cock still in his firm grip as he drags his tongue over the head, wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard.

Even if he wanted to he couldn't quiet his moans. Matt's never been loud, really. He's also never had a boyfriend make him nearly come with well placed murmurs either.

Tim is teasing him. I wouldn't be fair, except Matt loves it. He loves every second of it, except for maybe that he can't pull the other up and crush his lips with a kiss. He dislikes the state he's in but it's a blessing in disguise the moment Tim takes him in his mouth.

He doesn't know what's worse, Tim's touches or thar fucking tone. Either way it's driving him crazy.

"You little shit," He manages, and there's a smile on his face though when Tim finally sucks, his eyes snap ooen, mouth curling as his hands find Tims hair automatically.

"This," He manages, and tries not to lean foreward too much.

God, there is nothing hotter than watching Matt Murdock lose control like this. Watching the normally well put together lawyer unable to quiet his moans, watching those sightless eyes snap open, the hands that hastily find his hair.

He loves this. Its perfect, and he knows it's going to result in Matt pinning him down and giving it to him good and hard as soon as he's able. Won't be long now, he thinks. Not with the way Matt heals.

Tim hums, and the only problem with having Matt's dock in his mouth is that he can't drive Matt wild with his voice anymore. But if anything's a worthy trade, it's this.

His mouth slides down further, bit by bit, until his lips touch his fingers where they're still curled around the base of Matt's cock. He moves his hand as he pulls back, swirling his tongue around the head of Matt's cock as he rubs his own through his jeans.

This way, they both win.

Matt is unaware he's being watched--or rather he is, on some level, because Tim's told him so. This is different. This is Matt being distracted, his mind far from Fisk and the firm and how Karen is obviously lying to them about something. It's away from Claire and the crime in his city ad Father Landon's church lease.

Funny, his mind never strays from Tim. That may have something to do with that mouth on his dick, lips wrapped around his cock. Matt's going to make sure he fucks Tim so hard he feels it for a week after this. His way of saying thanks.

"Tim," He breathes, hands tightening on the others hair. He's not quite sure he can say anything other than his boyfriends' name right now, leaning back. His head tips back, too, staring at the cieling.

He sucks on the head again, firm and purposeful, before slowly sliding his mouth down the length of Matt's cock. Its a little much to take in, but Tim does it, just like always, going down until his lips are wrapped around the base of Matt's cock.

He swallows, hums, stays that way until he can't anymore, until it's too much. He comes back up, tongue teasing around the head for a moment before repeating the whole process. It becomes a pattern, deep throating each time he goes down, teasing each time he comes back up, over and over again.

At some point, his own hand slips into his jeans, fingers stroking his cock slow and firm. He'll get off on having Matt's cock I'm his mouth. Maybe even letting the other shoot his load on his face, when it comes to it.

Matt likes to think of himself of someone who has control. Always, in every way. Meditation. Martial arts. The court. Maybe a little in his sex life, too.

Not with Tim around. They've only been dating officially for a while, but Tim knows just how to unravel him with his mouth. He has pretty high stamina, but Tim's got a way with deep throating. Every time he feels his cock hit the back of his throat his breath hitches and he lets out a tiny moan, unable to help himself. His fingers tighten around Tim's hair, hips moving up and into the other's face slowly, by instinct only.

"God, Tim, don't stop."

Tim, for his part, has to have some semblance of control in his day-to-day life. There's a sense of authority that comes with being a marshal -- it's why he chose it. It's the same with sex, usually.

Except with Matt. With Matt, he's comfortable enough to not be in control. He's comfortable enough to allow Matt to cant his hips upwards into his mouth.

Matt's cock hits the back of his throat again, and Tim moans around it as his hand strokes his own cock a little bit faster. He doesn't have to be told twice -- he's not going to stop until he's gotten Matt off thoroughly.

At the rate Tim is going, he's going to come--and that suits Matt just fine. He's well acquainted to how quickly tim can get hum undone like this.

He hears--senses, really, the pre come on tim--that the other is jerking off, and Matt allows himself to take a shallow, gasping breath. He's trying to give Tim enough time to get off, too, but at the rate he's going it's difficult.

"I'm going to come," He manages, barely above a whisper.

There's no way he'll be able to get himself off fast enough. Not because he's not turned on enough (he definitely is), but because Matt is just so damn close. And Tim brought him there. Tim's that damn good.

Which, truthfully, is a turn on in and of itself.

Matt whispers, so soft Tim barely catches it. He takes the other's entire length into his mouth one last time before drawing back entirely, replacing his mouth with his free hand, casting his gaze upwards at Matt's face.

"Come for me," he murmurs, using that tone that Matt claims is so unfair.

There it is. That tone. Matt's dick is slick with sweat and spit thanks to Tim, and tims fingers pumping him make him shudder visibly. He's dimly aware ofb stitches in his back blossoming, can taste the blood in the air, but right now he puts one hand on top of tim's head, gripping the other's hair tightly. He comes and he comes hard, hopefully onto Tim's face as his hips buck and he shouts tims name, honestly wondering if it's tim's voice or his actions that did most of the work.

He's that good.

"Christ--" He stops moving his hips, but he's still shaking, and he realizes he's come on Tim's face. The hand on the top of tims head moves to brush the other's cheek, catching some of his semen on his fingers and moving said fingers to tim's mouth.

"Jesus christ, Tim."

Hot come hits his face, and it's exactly what he wants. Watching Matt shaking apart, losing every piece of control he ever possesed. The hand is tight in his hair and Matt yells his name and it's perfect.

This is perfect.

Tim murmurs a wordless approval, still stroking his own hard, leaking cock at a slow, steady pace. Matt's fingers brush his face, wiping up some of the come, and Tim takes them into his mouth, sucking in an almost greedy way. He licks some off his chin as he pulls back, gaze still trained intently on Matt's face.

"Better?"

He's looking at the space where tim is but not actually Tim--his gaze is a little more at Tim's cheek than Tim himself--and he's panting heavily, still, trying to collect himself.

It's incredibly hard.

"Yes," He manages. "I have a boyfriend that gives me the best head I've ever had, of course I'm better."

He loves Tim. He really does. And that's why he'll break the news that his stitches ripped only after he's come.

Tim laughs softly, but if he's being honest, that does something for him. The praise. Even though he knows without being told that this is something he's good at, it's still nice to hear.

His free hand comes up, guiding the hand Matt has on his face to another drop of semen, using the other's fingers to swipe across it and suck it off. A silent but encouraging 'keep doing that.'

Speaking of which--

"Go on, he murmurs, pulling Matt's fingers from his mouth. His grip tightens on his cock, stroking a little bit faster. "Keep tellin' me how good I am."

He was aware of tim's like of praise before of course. He's not sure it's ever come up like this, though. Not that Matt's complaining. He'll always give what he wants.

Calloused hands move over tim's face, and Matt makes a point to keep his face light and soft. It's the same tone he uses when they're rocking together, sweat among the sheets they're between. He smiles, just a little, and continues to smear rivulets of come off his boyfriends' face.

"Just like that," He murmurs. "You're so good."

It's probably a little bit weird. He's a grown man, he shouldn't need this kind of praise. It's certainly not something he's ever asked for from anyone else. But Matt's different, and doesn't seem to mind at all, and so Tim doesn't mind asking for it.

Matt's the exception to so many things, it seems.

Tim hums, pleased, wrist twisting just so. It doesn't take much now. Between Matt's come on his face and sucking it off the other's fingers, and Matt's smooth, soft voice, Tim gets pushed to the edge fast.

"God I'm so close," he says, hardly even whispering, sucking another bit of semen off of Matt's fingers.

"It's okay, baby. You can come for me." The words fly out of Matt's mouth, unafraid and unapologetic. His free hand is smoothing out Tim's hair, murmuring again.

"Good boy," just a small amount of praise, and Matt, still coming down from his climax, puts his fingers into Tim's mouth, even though there's nothing left to clean up.

"You're so good," He manages afterwards. "Just like that..."

That's it, that's exactly what he needs. Matt calling him baby, the praising, the other's fingers in his mouth despite his face having long been wiped clean. Tim's breathing picks up, hitching briefly in his throat just half a second before he comes.

He moans loudly around Matt's fingers, unconcerned with things like neighbors and volume control, hips bucking into his hand. He spills his load onto the floor between his knees, also unconcerned with the mess he's currently making, and how sticky his face is, and how this was really supposed to be about Matt getting off, not him, but it looks like they've both won. He'll need a shower after this. They both will, probably.

His legs are shaking as he stands up, not saying anything as he climbs onto the couch. He's careful not to disturb any wounds, but he straddles one of Matt's thighs, leaning down to kiss him slow and deep.

Tim comes and Matt can hear it, can smell it in the air and he can taste the tang from here. It's how good his senses are, and if he hadn't already came, he'd probably be turned on all over again.

He may have enhanced senses, but he still needs a bit for round two.

His eyes close, and his hands find Tim's face, touching it softly to see it properly. He wants to etch this in his mind. They've both won today.

"Remind me to praise you more," He breathes. "That was hot."

Tim kisses Matt as long as he physically can, until he's forced to pull back and breathe. And even then, he stays close, his forehead resting lightly against Matt's. He's aware of the fact that they're both still exposed, clothes still rumpled and not done up, but Tim can't bring himself to care.

Right now, all he cares about is Matt, and how much he loves him, and how fast his heart is beating and how he knows Matt can hear it, and how he can't possibly bring himself to care about that, either.

This is something he never thought he'd be able to have. Maybe it's messy and rocky, maybe they fight, maybe Matt has a white-hot anger that honestly rattles Tim to his bones. Maybe it'll end in the blink of an eye, when one of them gets taken out doing what they believe in most. But that makes him that more determined to hold onto it with everything he's got.

"It was all you," Tim murmurs, kissing Matt on the mouth again before shifting, sitting down on the couch directly beside Matt, with hardly any room between them at all.

"Tim." Matt's voice is sharp all of the sudden, his hands not at his side, nor srou d Tim like they want to be. Instead, they're at his side as he sits up straight.

He keeps his voice calm, and one hand finally does reach out to touch tims thigh, both of them wildly undressed and uncaring. In the background, the TV drones on.

"My stitches are broken. Lower back."

The second Matt says his voice like that, sharp and serious, Tim is on high alert. It's mostly a knee jerk reaction, but he sits up straighter, shoulders tensing, waiting for something to happen. Then Matt speaks again, and Tim blinks.

"What?" He sounds concerned, a little bit bewildered, and somewhat urgent all rolled into one tone. He sits up, tucking himself back in his jeans as he kneels on the couch, but not bothering to zip or button them. Instead, he places a gentle hand on Matt's shoulder and urges him to lean forward carefully, pulling up the back of the other's sweatshirt. The stitches are covered with gauze, but the bandages have blood blooming over them. Definitely ripped.

"Fuck." He drops Matt's shirt, reaching over to snag his phone from the coffee table, already hunting up the good nurse's number. "Claire's gonna kill us. Or you, probably."

Yl Matt laughs. It's childish, but he laughs. The whole situation is absurd, and even if it hurts, it's funny at least. In a strange way.

"I feel like I'm phoning my mother," He confesses. "She doesn't hear how this happens. Deal?"

Honestly. Matt's not sure if he could take it. He probably couldn't. Too embarrassing, even for the world's nerdiest vigilante.

So instead, he kissed Tim, long and hard, and pats the other's cheek.

"You call, I'll clean up our mess."

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Sneaks this in here

Go to bed omg

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