blindfighter | 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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Tim blinks, and peers over Matt's shoulder at the heavy curtains covering the window. Thanks to years in the military, and thus, years of making his bed in the Rocky cliffsides of Afghanistan, Tim can adjust to many sleeping situations. While the bright lights outside of Matt's window were admittedly obnoxious, they were never a big enough problem for Tim to complain about, or do anything about himself, which he would have been perfectly capable of doing.

But Matt fixed it anyway. Matt, who's conscientious enough to recognize it might be a problem without Tim saying a word, and fixed it with his own time and money. Tim feels his heart flutter in his chest. He's never been taken care of in quite this way before.

He smiles, and then he laughs softly, turning his head to kiss the corner of Matt's mouth, then moving to kiss him a little more properly.

"Little presumptuous to put up curtains before I agree to move in, don't you think?" It's nothing but easy teasing, and he hooks one leg over Matt's hip and slides a hand into his hair, leaning up to continue that slow, hard kiss.

Edited (Fuq 5 am phone tagging) 2016-09-02 09:55 (UTC)

Tim murmurs something witty and hot in that drawl of his and Matt can only smirk. That's tims way of saying he loves it and he knows. He doesn't have to sense anything to tell. They're together.

He gets kissed and while he's not complaining he almost immediately breaks it. That leg hooking over his waist is just what he wants right now, and so Matt goes for the throat.

Literally--Matt moves so his lips are at the top of Tims neck, nose brushing jawline, and as he sucks loudly, stopping just before a hickey forms, his hands move to grab Tim's wrists, loosely pinning his arms above him.

It feels like a tease, Matt stopping before a bruise can begin to blossom. He wants to be so littered in marks that he can't possibly begin to cover them all or explain them away. So that people will take a look at him and know that he belongs to somebody.

He's never really wanted that before. But everything is different with Matt. Absolutely everything.

Tim finds himself panting, struggling not to moan out loud at the feeling of Matt's mouth on his throat alone. He shifts, rocking his hips up eagerly against Matt's, seeking firm heat and friction.

Matt moves, his hands switching so only one of them is pinning Tim's wrists above his head--and when he hears that pant and how his boyfriend arches his hips, Matt grins wickedly.

His free hand explores, lazily moving from tims arm, down the curve of his forearm, to his bicep and to the others' throat, his thumbs grazing the hollow of where Tims Adams apple is, touches finger light as he leans over and bites at Tim's earlobe. It's playful, at first, but Matt is a little more agressive when he kisses along Tim's jaw next time, hand still exploring tims neck.

There's a part of Tim, a very large part, that's incredibly impatient, in a way he normally isn't. But his patience always runs thin quick when it comes to things like this. That part of him wants to goad Matt into picking up the pace. It'd be easy to do.

But he doesn't. Matt's exploring, hand wandering and tracing because it's how he sees, and Tim's not willing to interrupt that. Fingers are on his throat, light and teasing, and each touch sends a shiver down his spine. His fingers curl into his palms, the next best thing since he's unable to grip anything like this.

Matt knows. Matt knows Tim is impatient, especially when it comes to sex, and that's exactly why he's taking his damn time. Tim convinced him to actually leave hells kitchen, so Matt is going to torment him in bed. Simple.

He does grind down on tim, sudden and hard, and as his hips stay there for a fraction of a second, pinning Tim down to the bed with ease.

His hand lowers, index finger brushing the divet near his collar bone, and he brings his face to Tims neck, pressing that wicked grin into the hollow of Tims throat as his fingers run over Tim's lower abdomen, stopping just short of their hips.

This, he thinks, probably falls under the category of torture. And Tim knows Matt's doing it on purpose the second he feels that grin against his throat. Hips rock hard and sudden against his own, and Tim's jerk upwards in response, a groan building low in the back of his throat. He tries to arch forward again, to grind his hips up a second time, but Matt's got him pinned.

Tim had always wondered how Matt got to be so damn strong, all hard packed muscle, and quick, easy movements. There aren't many people who can easily pin Tim down successfully, after all. Now he doesn't have to wonder.

"You're a bastard," he breathes, head tilting back to expose his throat, begging without words for Matt to leave him marked at bruised. His stomach dips beneath Matt's touch, and he narrowly swallows down what would've been an incredibly embarrassing whimper.

That almost whimper is caught--just barely--and Matt laughs into the other's neck, fingers spraying on the others abdomen and pressing down. Hard, but not enough to bruise. To counteract the brief bit of pain, he sucks on the other's neck just where the others collarbone begins, promising a dark bruise. Tim is the only one he knows that likes hickeys, most of the people he knows equates them to high school possessiveness.

He doesn't mind being possessive of Tim. Not really. If it's what Gutterson wants, he'll get it.

"Did you think we'd be anything more than a quick fuck when we first met?" He asks, and the hand on Tim's stomach moves to his hip bones, pressing a thumb against one, feeling it.

Matt laughs, and Tim growls a little, sounding like a warning he doesn't really mean. It's the principle of the thing. Matt's hand presses against his abdomen right at the same time the other starts sucking a pretty Mark on his collarbone, and Tim gasps softly, a noise that quickly dissolves into a quiet, throaty moan.

It's unfair. Matt knows just how to pick Tim apart. How to make him unwind so totally and completely in the slowest way possible. Thankfully, Tim has his own weapons.

"No," Tim murmurs, hardly even breathing the words. "Didn't even think we'd be that, when I first saw you. You were too damn hot for me."

He exhales shakily, arching up into Matt's hand. When he speaks, his tone is low, his pitch adjusted just so. "Figured you'd move on to someone else after that first night."

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

/is trash

This is never going to end

:)

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