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

[blindfighter]

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.

Comments

[blindfighter]

It's a good point. Matt sighs, and it's the universal sigh of someone who knows he's wrong but hates that the other person is right.

"Fine," He says quietly. "But at least, after this, use my bed. You're exhausted, and it's not healthy."

Hypocrite. Matt let's his hand drop, and he leans closer.

"I had him," He says suddenly. "I almost had Fisk."

[comfortablyerect]

Tim kisses Matt's jaw again, a silent and appreciative thank you. More than almost anything else, he's glad they're okay again. Of course, the fact that Matt's alive is what he's most relieved about. But the fact that they're not fighting, instead cuddling on the couch, enjoying each other's warmth and comfort — that's pretty damn high up there, too.

He gets his phone out of his pocket, shooting Claire a quick text that Matt's awake, in pain but seems to be fine. She tells him she'll stop by in a few, on her way to her next shift.

Tim puts his phone on silent and sets it aside. He's not going to let himself be interrupted by work today. Today's about taking care of Matt. And catching up on sleep. Matt's right -- he needs it.

"You'll get him next time," Tim murmurs. "When you're better."

[blindfighter]

"Next time--when he sets fire to hells kitchen again?" Matt isn't aware of his moodswinging, suddenly, and he's not mad at Tim in the least. It's at himself. He's frustrated.

"Or when another gang takes the russians' place and I start all over? I can't wait until I'm better, Tim."

But he's making no move to get up. It's normal anger, nothing like the Murdock temper. Nothing like their row.

[comfortablyerect]

Tim knows that Matt isn't angry at him. Angry in general, maybe. Angry at himself. Tim doesn't take it personally. He's more than used to the many shades of the other's anger to do that anymore. Sometimes, he thinks Matt's probably always angry, and that he's just very, very good at hiding it.

His mouth is still against Matt's jaw, but his hand moves to the other side of the lawyer's face, palm flattening against his cheek and pressing gently so he can look at the other's face. Those sightless eyes, the butterfly stitches holding together a gash above his eyebrow, the purple bruise blooming over his cheekbone. Beautiful, even when beaten all to hell.

"And you can't go fight the bad guys when you can hardly sit up straight. I'm not askin' you to stop, Matt. Just askin' you not to be an idiot." He brushes his thumb lightly across Matt's lips. "And askin' you to come home to me. Alive."

[blindfighter]

Matt closes his eyes as Tim places a hand on his face and he leans into it as best as he can, expelling the frustration via a long, low breath. As usual, tim's right. Tim is right and Matt is being unreasonably emotional.

"You, too. It's dangerous out there."

Another heaving sigh, Matt's eyes still closed. He's very well aware of the fact that Tim has an incredibly dangerous job. He's also aware of how much corruption is in the cops. Not tim, though. Never Tim.

"Did you have anyone a say that to you before you shipped off? 'Stay alive?'"

[comfortablyerect]

Matt closes his eyes, but Tim continues to look at him, gaze tracing every inch of his face. Everything he's already memorized, and wants to rememorize, maybe for the rest of his life. The stubble on Matt's jaw, the shape of his mouth, the part in his hair. Tim's in love with all of it, every single aspect that makes up Matt Murdock. Even the fact that he's a vigilante by night.

He continues tracing Matt's mouth and jaw and cheek with the tips of his fingers, light and gentle and avoiding all bruises and gashes that are there. He's never been so in love. And he doesn't think he'll ever be in love like this again. Matt might very well be it for him.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "My ma did. Told me if I didn't come back alive, she'd never forgive me. I ain't ever seen that woman cry, but she did when I got back from my final deployment and told her I was stayin'."

[blindfighter]

"That's nice," He states, and it's hard to tell if he means the touches or the story. He wishes he had a mom like tim's. He can't remember a damn thing about her, save the picture he's got stowed away with his father's boxing robe.

"You're lucky you have her," He says softly, and for a moment, it sounds like he's going to sleep.

That's when he speaks again: "one day, you should bring her up here. I'd love to meet her."

[comfortablyerect]

"I am," he agrees quietly. "Never would've made it this far without her."

He owes his mother a lot. She protected him from his father the best she could, and he did the same for her in return. It was always the two of them trying to stand in front of each other, and both of them getting knocked down either way. He knows Sadie will never forgive herself for all the times he got knocked around, but it's the same the other way around, too. He'll never forgive himself for not being strong enough to end his father's life sooner.

"I'll call her soon," he says. "I don't know how much she'd like New York. She's real fond of the small town life."

And Tim's not sure how he feels about her being up here where she could get hurt anyway.

[blindfighter]

"Does she know about us?" He asks suddenly, but it's followed by a very quick "sorry, that was incredibly invasive," Like Matt's never pried like that in his entire life.

He's never really had this. He's never needed shit like parental approval and he just realized how serious this relationship actually is hell, if Matt had someone, he'd have told them about Tim. He's already told Karen and Foggy.

He's a little insulted that Sadie wouldn't like New York--but that's his pride more than anything. He understands why.

[comfortablyerect]

Tim smiles, even laughs a little as he leans in, pressing his mouth against Matt's. It's incredibly gentle, very loving, careful to make sure not to hurt the other. He hasn't kissed Matt since last night, since he thought his boyfriend was dying. When he pulls back, he brushes his thumb over Matt's lips again.

"I told her months ago that I was gettin' involved with someone," he says truthfully. No more secrets, after all. "She called to check up on me and knew without me mentionin' it at all. Said she could hear it in my voice. I sounded happier."

It's almost embarrassing to admit, but he shakes that off. "You've been makin' me happy for awhile."

[blindfighter]

Matt murdock, the devil of hells kitchen, is one hundred percent, without a doubt, absolutely flustered.

He smiles, first. Unsure and eyes wild, and he's not sure how to react. Sadie knew the moment Tim phoned him, apparently--and they were going to break up, or a out to, only moments before.

"That's good," He manages, and feels like he's in front of a court room, nervous for no reason. "I'm glad--I guess a mother always knows, right?"

[comfortablyerect]

Oh, that's cute. That's got to be the cutest thing Tim has ever seen. He's seen Matt flustered, of course, seen him flushed and stuttering. Not often, but it's happened. But somehow, it's different now that he knows what Matt is. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen is nervous, and Tim is absolutely in love with it.

Tim's smiling, dropping his hand from Matt's face to curl around his hand again. He can't help but to be a little bit amused.

"Mine sure as hell does. Never been able to get a thing past her, growin' up. Can't even do it now." He brings Matt's hand up, kissing the back of it lightly. "Nothin' to worry about. She'll love you as much as I do."

[blindfighter]

Tim kisses him and somehow that makes it worse, like Tim is just trying to shush a fussy three year old in the supermarket. It's what he feels, anyway. For some reason he thinks this would be easier if it was with his glasses on, protecting his eyes.

"I'd rather she doesn't love me in the ways that you do," He remarks snidely, and grunts in an effort to move back up again, still feeling like he's been hit by a ten tonne truck.

"Could you--can you give me a hand to my bed, please?"

He hates asking for help, but the high thread count is inviting him.

[comfortablyerect]

"I said as much, not in the same way, don't be an asshole." But his voice is light, easy, like he's wholly unbothered. Truthfully, right now, Matt is a little bit like a fussy three year old. But that's how people are when they're sick or injured -- they're insufferable.

Matt's not that insufferable, though. The right amount of fussy, given what's happened. It can't be easy, going from being as mobile as Matt usually is to being effectively bed ridden.

He sighs, shifting to slide out from behind Matt, getting to his feet. "Alright. But if Claire gripes about it, I'm blamin' it on you."

He helps Matt to the bedroom. It involves a lot of effort, very careful movements, and a lot of wincing on Matt's part. But they make it, just in time for Claire to stop by and check Matt over. She frowns at the relocation, but for the most part, she checks her handiwork, changes his bandages, and gives Tim more care instructions. Then, she tells Matt to rest up, with a very stern, "Seriously, Matt. Bed rest. No going out, no getting up unless it's strictly necessary. You need to heal."

Matt doesn't listen, but Tim's none the wiser. He falls asleep in Matt's bed shortly after Claire leaves, and doesn't even stir when the other slips out. Gets back before Tim wakes up, too, and is good enough at arranging it so Tim doesn't suspect a thing. Then again, Tim's guard is down. There's no more secrets, after all. Not to mention he's pretty sure Matt's incapable of moving on his own.

Tim takes the next week off, despite Matt's protests. He's worked a hell of a lot of overtime, and has stacked up a few vacation days. Plus, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen has fallen suspiciously quiet, so the task force is using that time to regroup and reevaluate. He'll have to resign from that task force. He can't bring himself to continue hunting down the vigilante now that he knows it's Matt. It's too much of a conflict. He'll find some other way to risk his life.

A few days pass, and Matt's healing, faster than Tim anticipated. Just when he thinks he understands, he learns something else. Matt heals fast. Not so fast that a few days is enough for him to be good as new, but fast enough that moving around hurts less, and Matt can even move between the living room and the bedroom and kitchen with little difficulty.

Today, the two of them are sitting on the couch, watching television while Tim does his best to keep Matt from getting too restless, or being too physical. It's a fine line, and it's not exactly working.

A commercial comes on, and Tim takes the opportunity to lean over, placing a hand on Matt's thigh as he kisses the other's jaw. "How you holdin' up?"

[blindfighter]

He's close. He's so close--and he's getting a suit. A better one, good enough to face Fisk in. That's all that matters. That's all that's on his goddamn mind.

It's ready today. Fisk is going down. He spends all week meditating, right up against the wall. Tim can barely snap him out of the trance he puts himself in, but he heals a lot faster. Enough that Claire stops visiting.

He's been squirrely than usual. Still in pain, but Tim is helping him. He hates it and Tim knows he hates it but isn't going anywhere. They make the best of it. Karen stops by with flowers and Tim tells her matt's sleeping, but he'll give it to him. It's a nice gesture.

Now, though. There's a TV one of them has purchased, he honestly can't remember which one of them, and the hearing assistance is on. It cuts to the commercial, and Tim pats his face, and Matt decides to be honest.

"I hate this."

[comfortablyerect]

That, he thinks, goes without saying. He didn't realize how active Matt was until he was suddenly stuck inside. But for a blind man, Matt does a lot. He's always out and about, at the office or at Josie's or in court or at the police station or fighting crime as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. If he's being honest, Tim's almost happy that Matt's stuck inside. At least it means he doesn't have to worry about his boyfriend not coming home one night.

Suddenly, he realizes how it is his mother must have felt when he went off to war. How she feels while he's being a marshal in New York. How Matt feels every time he leaves for work. Knowing that, one day, he might not come home.

It's a shitty feeling, and it's hard to ignore.

He sighs, tipping his head further to kiss Matt's neck instead. A distraction, even if it's a light one. "I know you do. You just gotta put up with it a little while longer."

Matt's restless. He's restless in the way Tim gets restless when things have been quiet at work. He wasn't exaggerating before — he can't function when he's not in danger. And it's similar for Matt. For Tim, when he gets restless this way, he usually has two ways of fixing it — fucking or fighting. The latter obviously isn't an option for Matt right now. Technically, neither is the former. Matt's still too sore for anything vigorous. But that doesn't mean Tim can't do something to help.

"Here," he murmurs, and his hand slides further up the inside of Matt's thigh as he tips his head up to nip at Matt's jaw. "Let me help."

[blindfighter]

He's going insane. He can sneak out, sure, but then his activities are limited. Purse thieves and the like. And, strangely, sneaking out feels a lot like lying to Tim. He can't do that.

Matt starts to protest--he doesn't want to be here. He can't afford to be here. He needs to at least meditate a bit more--but tims heartbeat has picked up. Almost a split second before that had runs up the thigh to his sweatpants.

Matt unconsciously widens his legs a little further.

"Ill have to make it up to you," He murmurs.

[comfortablyerect]

"No you won't," Tim murmurs, and his hand slides up further at the unconscious invitation, palming Matt's cock through his sweatpants, applying just a little pressure. "I'm just takin' care of you."

He shifts, mouth moving to Matt's throat, kissing lightly before latching on, sucking a pretty red mark into Matt's pale skin. It's different from the bruises already littering Matt's body. This one is made of lust and love, not born of violence and vengeance. It makes it prettier, more elegant, and not unsettling like the purple bruises that are healing on Matt's ribcage.

He moves, getting down on the floor on his knees, settling himself between Matt's spread legs. His hand is still rubbing Matt through his sweats, firm but slow as he gazes up at the other.

"Besides. You know how much I love doin' this."

[blindfighter]

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.

[comfortablyerect]

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."

[blindfighter]

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."

[comfortablyerect]

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.

[blindfighter]

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.

Sneaks this in here

[comfortablyerect]

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.

Go to bed omg

[blindfighter]

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.