Summary: You and Matt are invited to the gallery for a photo exhibition. Surely it doesn't end with just admiring the works.
Tags: smut, fingering, fluff.
Word Count: 2,2K
"The funniest thing they're going to see in this gallery tonight is a blind man."
"Come on, Matt, it's going to be fun," you retorted, gripping the man's forearm tighter.
"Did I really argue with that part?" grinned Murdock as he was tying the bow tie on his black tuxedo.
You walked along the sidewalks of New York strewn with the leaves of an early autumn. The hollow echo of your heels and Matt's cane followed you to the way to the gallery where your friend had second exhibition of her photographs. Having an exhibition once was a success itself, but when you get the spotlight again - that was a real success in such a big city, often greedy only for all the one-time novelties.
***
The gallery was buzzing with an early evening crowd.
"Kate, congratulations, you did fantastic!" you hugged your friend tightly.
"Thank you, Y/N! And Matt, too. I can't say that the exhibition would not have happened without your support, but... not without your participation," she winked at you. Before you could clarify exactly what Kate meant, a newly arrived group of not very familiar faces ran up to you, so a small talk started.
"Matt? Matthew Murdock? That lawyer from Hell's Kitchen?" one of Kate's acquaintances asked, turning to you, "Forgive my tactlessness, but... how exactly are you going to enjoy the art presented here tonight?"
"There's... such an artsy atmosphere, I’m absorbing it with every cell of my body, I don't even need to see anything, " Matt smiled slightly sarcastically, "And to perceive visual art in a visual way is such a 20th century, isn't it?"
Kate's friend laughed falsely loudly, "Yes, you’ve got your point. By the way, your date looks amazing. It's a pity you can't see it.… Oh, I'm sorry."
"Don’t be, I happen to hear such phrases quite often," Murdock restrainedly pursed his lips, pretending to smile politely.
***
An hour later, sipping champagne while looking at one of the works, you thoughtfully were twirling the glass in your hands, looking at the photos. They were all black and white and represented urban sketches of New York and seemingly random portraits of people. You liked the ease of these pictures, as if they were truly taken at one moment, rather than were planned to be composed in advance. Maybe they really were that natural and nonchalant.
"It's really a pity that you can't see me today," you said a little guiltily, "Because I'm wearing today..."
"I know."
"Sorry, I'm repeating myself..."
"No. I’m saying this to let you know that I remember it perfectly. But please tell me again what you're wearing tonight," Matt said softly but sensually, stepping closer.
You smiled meekly.
"Well... tonight I'm wearing a white dress with a print made in the style of Piet Mondrian. Composition with red, blue and yellow. Yes, it's a painting, and we're at a photo exhibition today, but I still couldn't help but wear something like that to a place like this. After all, many paintings are often exhibited here too, including Mondrian once..."
Matt couldn't see, but you could have sworn he was looking at you with adoration right now, listening intently to you.
"I'm also wearing red heels and having a small black purse today.… And red lipstick, of course. Actually, you can say that I’ve dressed only for you and for this gallery. It's a pity that none of you are be able to fully appreciate it, but I will get over it," you said warmly, leaving a light teasing kiss on Matt's cheek.
"Don't make me regret yet again that I lost my eyesight. And yet, you're being modest, sweetheart. It's not just me or the walls of this gallery who have noticed you."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on. I'm blind, not stupid. I can hear the sound of falling jaws from seeing you literally all the evening."
"Matt, you're exaggerating. No one even said anything to me except that guy."
"And they don't have to say it out loud. I can hear their heartbeat, feel the increasing heat of their bodies when you’re around. Hell, some of them were even whispering. Do I need to say that it makes me jealous?" he asked playfully but rather firmly, tightening his grip around your arm.
"Matt... do you really hear all this in such a crowd?" you smiled in surprise and added timidly, straightening your dress, "I think I’ve noticed it a lot less myself."
"That doesn't mean it didn't happen," he said, looking at your long-empty glass, "And now, let me go and get you some more champagne, be a good girl and wait for me here, yeah?"
With these words, Matt kissed you very briefly but hotly on the lips, taking your glass from your hands with his long fingers, running his other hand along your waist in a dress.
***
Picking up two new glasses of champagne from the banquet table, Matt was lost in thought, lowering his usual rather smug face. He would never refuse to go to an art gallery with you or anywhere else, but that doesn't change the fact that it was a quite a challenge for him.
Not to fully share with you the joy that you felt while you were here, looking at all the paintings and photographs. Not seeing you, how beautifully you were dressed tonight. How beautiful you were overall. Another strong reminder of the downside of his. And of course, to tolerate the fact that others were able see it, and seemed to enjoy it so damn well.
It was almost unbearable.
But Matt would get over it, what else could he do? He reminded himself that he was grateful to fate and God that he had what he had.
Until he heard this.
"… yeah, sure, and why would the girl need a blind guy like this in here? Only not doesn't he see the paintings, he doesn't even see his girlfriend."
It was the same acquaintance of Kate's who had been asking all these dumb questions during the small talk earlier.
"I know what you mean," his friend laughed, "I wonder if it's possible to approach her and flirt in sign language or something, right in front of him? It looks hella fun."
"Looks", right?" they both scoffed.
Matt gripped the glasses tightly in his hands almost to their crack. It wasn't the first time he'd heard shit like that addressed to him and hadn't reacted to such things for a long time, but everything about you made him vulnerable. He was the Daredevil, the lawyer from Hell's Kitchen, and a generally confident, good-looking guy, but that moment he felt like he was back in college or high school, and some kind of “cooler” guys were trying to hit on a girl he himself had crush on.
Should he come up and give a witty and crushing comeback? Or maybe just crush and beat them up to the state of material for a next exhibition with some incomprehensible curved statues made of clay? He liked both options, the second one sounded even more appealing. But he was above it, he decided.
So, Matt just came back to you, he didn't give you the glass, but silently put both glasses on a nearby table.
"Hey, Matt, what are..." you didn't have time to finish, as he sensually wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed you. He almost immediately spread your lips with his tongue and slipped inside. His tongue was hot and moist, laced with several glasses of champagne he'd drunk. The kiss was shamelessly delicious and delightfully shameless in front of the whole crowd.
Let everyone in this damn gallery know that the most significant piece of art belonged to no one but him.
He felt your heart beating faster, as your breathing began to falter. Those were some of the best sounds he could hear, along with your sweet moans. He quickly realized that he wanted to hear some of them as well right now.
"Shall we take a walk through the gallery?" Matt murmured fervently, pulling away from your lips.
By this point, you no longer had a desire to ask any questions, only to agree with his ideas.
It seemed that you had already walked around the gallery a lot, but you hadn’t got to visit the farthest hall because there was a large crowd there before, so you decided to go there later, but were distracted and never returned.
There was no one there right at this moment, but there was a very convenient nook nearby that led to some administrative offices. Murdock led you so quickly and confidently, almost without leaning on his cane, that you laughed, "Matt, now everyone might think that you're just pretending to be blind."
"I don't care. Actually, it would be nice. Come here," he said, pushing you against the far wall of this quite hidden corner.
Your back felt the cold of the thick marble wall, but Matt's further touches caused even more goosebumps than the sudden coldness. His hands started roaming over your body, he kissed you furiously, as if every moment could be the last.
Perhaps, with his lifestyle, it wasn't that far from the truth, but honestly it was the last thing on his mind right now.
Matt spread your legs with his knee, and you felt unbearably tight and hot in the cubbyhole, just like it was in his suit trousers. The realization twisted a pleasant knot in your stomach. Murdock’s leg pressed against you even harder, creating friction, and you began to respond by rubbing against it and moaning softly. He grinned contentedly and started kissing your neck, inhaling your scent.
"Did I tell you that you also smell just divine tonight?" he asked.
"Actually," you said, almost out of breath, "I wanted to tell you the same thing."
"Oh, baby," he smirked, "I only know one thing that smells even sweeter."
His deft hands made their way under the hem of your dress, nimbly pushing aside your underwear and wasting no time getting inside you. You couldn't hold back your moans anymore, even though you still were trying to make them quiet.
"Like this… You don't have to hold back, dear, I'll only be glad if everyone in this gallery finds out who exactly makes you this feel good," with these words, he accelerated the pace, his long fingers making their way deep exactly where you wanted, even in a standing position. You started fidgeting on the marble that used to feel cold, but now it was almost melting under you.
"Matt, I..." you started to whimper.
"Sh-h, I know, sweetheart. I can feel you throbbing inside so nice. Please, give it all to me. I got уou."
With these words, he started kissing your neck, completely driving you crazy, his hot lips and even hotter fingers made you see white circles when you squeezed your eyes shut. The orgasm followed shortly after, and your body went slightly limp in his arms. Matt smiled contentedly, slowly taking his fingers out of you and bringing them to his nose, "Now this is truly divine."
Having said that, he licked his index and middle fingers, inhaling the scent of your bliss and the smell of your perfume at the same time, "And now, let's enjoy the rest of the things this place has to offer us."
"What about you?" you clarified, stretching your fingers to his waist.
"It's not about me right now, the main piece of art is you, and I'm just the painting frame that frames it," he smiled.
"That's not true," you protested, smiling back, hugging your darling.
"I am. But, if you want, you can polish this frame good when we get back home."
"Matt! You dog!" you laughed, nudging him lightly, causing him to grin with the greatest satisfaction.
***
Getting out of your nook, you decided to walk through the last hall of the gallery, now constantly holding hands. And it was totally worth it. It was finally empty here. On one of the walls you spotted a black-and-white photograph of two people, their faces taken in close-up against the background of a striped street cafe umbrella. On the left of the photo there was a half of the girl's delighted face, and on the right was a half of the face of a man with round dark glasses, smirking charmingly. Despite the lack of colour in the photo, the sunlight and happiness of these people literally beamed through this picture of a carefree city weekend. It was you two.
"Matt, right there..." you gulped, bringing him closer. You saw that this photo had not only a Braille plaque, but even a miniature reproduction of the photo with three-dimensional contours. Your friend had thought through everything. Taking his hand in yours, you gently placed it on the plaque. Matt's face twitched in a mix of emotions, his Adam's apple swallowed a big feeling.
"It seems that you can really be called a work of art now?" after a long pause, he got over his emotions and made a joke in a gentle yet still very slightly shaky voice.
"We can be called a work of art. And in our case, this is completely true," you smiled warmly, reaching out to your loved one for yet another kiss.
