Lingered Affection (Chapter XV)
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Word Count: 4865.
Series Summary: You thought breaking up with Matt was the right thing to do. For his sake and yours. Life went on as you navigated through it with the lingered love and affection you still had for each other, neither of you could let go.
Chapter Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Fluff. A little angst.
Author's Note: I'm finally back to this wasteland that I call home. I've missed this, but it's hard to get back to it since I put too much pressure on myself to make it good when I could've had a silly good time with a silly goofy plot. But no, I had to suffer instead 🥲
I hope you will enjoy this chapter :)
GIF is not mine
The car ride home was cast in a glowering silence with your unwillingness to talk as the instigator. It wasn't that you didn't want to. You didn't know how to explain yourself, where to start. An apology was redundant if not too little too late, and what was the point of apologizing if you kept committing the offence over and over again?
After the swift escape, you made your way to the alley behind the building to retrieve the sealed document lying on the empty spot, usually occupied by an industrial waste container. Once it was secured in your hands, you jogged to the main street with Matt's sullen silence glued to your side, uncomfortable like the lump in your throat you couldn't get rid of, and wordlessly flagged down a cab.
And now, in the suffocating, borderline blistering warmth of the taxi and the moody crooning of an old jazz classic crackled through the old radio, you found yourself unable to open the conversation. It was like an old diary of your worst mistakes sealed shut, and you knew once you pried it open, nothing good would come out. Still, the anticipation of the inevitable confrontation felt worse, somehow. It seemed harmless at first, like a small but smouldering flame that built up until every inch of you was covered in the tiny blazes, pricking at you from the inside. Your body knew the price of keeping secrets, and you were reminded every time.
You glanced at Matt, who angled his face toward the window as if his city, which always moved in blurry shapes and danced in transient flames, suddenly came to him in every little detail so sharp that he could touch it with his unsighted eyes, and he couldn't help but marvel.
You took a steady inhale, then exhaled softly through your lips. The easiest thing you could do for yourself right now was to say what was perching on your lips the moment Matt pulled you to the side at the fundraiser.
"I wanted to tell you. I really wanted to."
But you couldn't, not after everything that happened between the two of you. If your self-sabotage tendencies were like headaches, your family and everything that came with them were like migraines that only intensified, never relented. You thought you could spare Matt from descending downward into the neverending pit. It was a gateway that, once you opened, would never shut.
Your parents' maltreatment was like a program ingrained in your mind, impossible to unlearn, much less remove entirely. But it seemed like no matter what you did, Matt would end up in the midst of it. The only thing you could do was to be honest. But it was hard, and you couldn't help the way you were. The way you had always been. Your secrecy was your way of protecting yourself, looking out for your sanity because who else would?
"I'm really sorry. The last thing I want for you is to be involved with my family's… drama."
Such a trivial word for an intricate situation. It couldn't encapsulate the scope of virulency your parents were capable of. You knew that, and Matt had started to grasp the weight of your situation, too. It wasn't a walk in the park. It was a run for your life through the woods on injured ankles with bloodhounds chasing after you, their mouths foaming, their teeth snapping at your heels. And you couldn't outrun them.
Matt sighed and turned to your side of the cab. You couldn't gauge his emotions in the dark of the taxi. His face was cut with sharp angles by the shadows, but there was a softened edge of defeat in his voice.
"All I ask is for you to be honest with me."
When you were lost in your own turmoil with your parents, you neglected Matt. You forgot that he, just like you, also had a hard time getting close to others, especially when it came to his Daredevil identity. It took time, patience, and so much commitment for the two of you to reach this point where you could trust each other completely and wholly. You messed it up more than once, but here he was, still giving you his all. For as long as you thought you were protecting him by keeping him at arm's length, it only hurt both of you in the long run. You had to learn how to balance. Allowing Matt to know more about what was going on between you and your parents seemed like a fair trade for the time being.
"I know."
You allowed the rumble of the car and the low jazz to take over again. In the back of the cab, your hand found Matt's on the worn-out leather seat. At first, it was a barely-there contact; your skin grazed his. You drew on your courage to move atop his hand, feeling the small raises of his scars underneath your palm. For a moment, he didn't move. You breathed a relieved sigh as Matt responded to your touch, turning his palm upward to enclose your hand, your fingers wove tightly. Those were the last words exchanged for the rest of the ride.
–
Matt's home granted you great relief from the outside world, but his persistent silence did not. After closing the door behind you, he walked ahead while you lingered at the console table. You understood the gust of indifference he left behind was for you. Like a moth to the flame, he could never truly stay away, yet, for tonight, it didn't keep him from trying.
You followed Matt into the living room, where he had stopped to tug on his tie. He pulled it loose, draping it over the back of the sofa before working to discard his suit jacket. You tossed your purse along with the sealed file on the dining table, allowing the important document to be nothing but a scrap of paper and made your way to him, stepping into his space with so much uncertainty.
You reached out to him with your hands curled on his wrists, silently asking. After a moment, Matt let his arms fall to the sides, allowing you to help him. You felt the tension in your body wane with every button unfastened, slowly and languidly, until you reached the bottom that disappeared into the waist of his pressed slacks. You tugged slightly on the soft material, freeing the rest of the white shirt. Once all the buttons were undone, Matt's chest was bare to you, naked and moving steadily with every breath he took.
You couldn't help but risk a touch below his belly button, feeling the faint dust of fine hair tickle your fingertips. Your brief contact raised goosebumps on his skin, and Matt drew in a soft breath, held it there and waited for your next move. He looked beautiful like this, patient, yet his longing was palpable to your eyes, and you wanted nothing more than indulge. You missed this, the intimacy you shared, the deliberateness as you really took your time with each other until the need you built was so unbearable that you gave in. You dragged your fingers up, barely touching him, and the hitch in his throat was so quiet that you almost missed it. It gave you a small boost forward as you grew bolder; your hand ghosted over his abs, the hard planes on his chest, and only stopped to stroke teasingly at the column of his throat, feeling him swallow hard. You dared a look at his face to see his unsighted eyes settled on you, his lips parted and quivered in soft, careful exhales. Your eyes fluttered, and your heart skipped a beat as you took his slightly dishevelled self in, reading the barely hidden yet, still restrained desire written all over his glossy eyes, his parted lips and the way his breaths seemed to grow even quieter at his control.
You leaned in, only paused when there was barely any distance in between so he could end this if he wished to. But Matt made no move to push you away. So you followed the natural course laid out before you; your fingers were replaced with your lips on the delicate flesh with a light-as-feather touch. The small caresses were careful, experimental as you were unsure of your place until they became insistent as you pressed harder, wanting to feel more of him. Your lips parted to suck on his skin; your tongue darted out to taste it. You felt Matt's arm close around the small of your back, pulling you closer like an invitation for you to continue. Your teeth closed around his skin and tugged, drawing a deep groan from his throat. Matt's hands grasped you through the material of your dress; the low resonant of his whine urged you to continue. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand found its home in his hair, carding through the soft strands and tugging as your mouth moved to nip at his jaw. Matt liked that, his grunt of approval and the tightening of his arms around you, pressing you against him even more, was an obvious indication.
His hand grasped your chin and tilted your face to meet his. He caught your lips with such urgency as if he couldn't do it soon enough. A dam broke inside you when your lips connected; a swirl of relief and exhilaration winded deep in the pit of your stomach. His hand banded around your throat, his fingers brushed against your pounding pulse, holding you still but not restricting your movement. Your kiss was unrestrained and desperate, releasing all the bottled frustration from your earlier exchange in the closet. It was also a physical proof made of skin, bones, and the thundering of your hearts that you were here together, that this was real. Matt had longed to hold you like this, to have you like this, and you had yearned to feel once again the home you made in his arms. In this sacred moment, you didn't need words. You had already said so much in so little time and trusted that your action was enough to show him how much you wanted him. Matt crushed you to him, making your dress bunch and wrinkle, and you groaned at the barrier in between. You pushed at the shirt on his shoulders with impatience, and Matt helped you get rid of it. You sighed as your hands met his bare skin, warm, alive, and taut over the expanse of muscles.
You barely parted. You couldn't, even when the air in your lungs wane. When you were desperate for it, you would pull back slightly only to gravitate toward Matt again. Your teeth clashed, your tongues intertwined. You needed the lack of distance, the growing intensity, and the impatience you shared. Matt found the zipper of your dress and tugged on it harshly, eager to free you of your confinement. He pulled on it several times, but the creased garment refused to give. You felt his grunt of frustration before his withdrawal from your lips, felt his hands hold the fabric in place so he could slide the zipper down while you peppered kisses all over his neck and collarbone, licking and nipping at his skin like it was a drug.
After a final decisive pull and a satisfied groan, your dress came loose and pooled at your feet. Matt's warm hands raised goosebumps on your skin as he caressed your body, worshipping with every fervent touch. His hands moved and kneaded and groped as if you were to disappear any moment, and he needed to seize every moment, every second. Your bodies fused as one as you moved backward and bumped into the back of the couch. You felt his erection straining against his dress pants, pressing into your thighs. You felt lightheaded, not only from the onslaught of kisses, of the intoxicating air you breathed in but from the dizzying need to shed his clothes, to get him naked, to have nothing else in the way.
With shaky but determined hands, you reached for his belt, tugging it loose with Matt's help. You sighed breathily into his mouth as his pants fell, and the hard outline of his erection felt more noticeable now. You palmed it, and Matt moaned softly, his face contorted as if your touch was enough to make him lose it. He made his way to your throat, making you gasp and moan as you could tell his bites were hard enough to leave marks. You couldn't care less about how you would be perceived with Matt's love bites on your neck the next morning. You could only focus on how good he made you feel, how he lavished his attention on you. He settled on the point between your neck and shoulder, sucking on the delicate flesh. One hand guided your neck to arch into his mouth while the other reached for your bra and unfastened the hook. You tossed the garment over your shoulders, and Matt wasted no time attaching his skilled mouth to your breast. You felt your legs weakened as he worked you over relentlessly; his tongue swirled over your sensitive nipple, his teeth dug softly into the supple flesh, sucking and nipping and licking while his other tended to the other, groping and rolling your hardened nub between his forefingers. You threw your head back, letting your moans of ecstasy bounce freely off of the brick walls. Your hands grasped his shoulders; your nails dug into his skin to warn him of your urgency.
"Take me to bed, please. I need you."
Matt came back to you, so breathless and speechless that all he could do was nod, his breathing laboured. You were picked up in one swift movement; Matt's hands dug into your thighs. He laid you onto the bed gently, a contrary to the way he had been handling you. You crawled backward on your arms, watching as he followed. Your gaze roamed over the mushed-up hair on his head, his glossy unsighted eyes trained on you. You eyed the faint smear of your lipstick all over his lips; the clumsy imprint was blurry and only enhanced the irresistible dishevelled look on Matt's face. You caught a brief glimpse of the pigment before Matt brought you back to him by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, by the feel of his hand on your hip bone, his thumb delved under the lace of your underwear. You lifted your hips, and he worked quickly to rid of them. You went for his boxers, pulling the waistband down the globes of his ass until he was free from the containment. His cock was hot and heavy on your thigh, and you couldn't help but moan softly at the sheer anticipation.
Matt touched you where you needed him most, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped. His skilled fingers ran along your wet folds, grazing your sensitive clit. Your back arched off the silk sheet as his movement grew persistent, drawing needy whimpers from you as if he could feast on your pretty sound of pleasure. Your hips chased after his hand even after he pulled it away to retrieve a condom from the bedside table. A wave of relief washed over you as Matt returned. He braced himself above you, close enough for you to feel his warmth, yet not enough that he could crush you. You involuntarily tensed as he poised at your entrance; the tip of his aching cock caught on your folds. You hadn't been intimated with anyone else since your breakup, and you had the feeling that it was the same for him. Matt sensed your uneasiness and drew his hips back, giving you some space. His hands found yours; his thumbs drew soothing patterns on your palm. Even though there hadn't been a single word exchanged between you ever since you got back, you understood everything Matt had been telling you with his actions. His face softened, and his unseeing eyes settled on you with affection and love as he waited for your permission.
Your heart swelled in your chest at the tenderness evident in every fibre of Matt's being. You knew you were safe here and how much you had desperately wanted that safety net to catch you. All you had to do was to let yourself fall into his arms.
Your hand travelled along the side of his firm body to reach his back, relishing in the coiled muscles, feeling the divots of his waist, and urged him to move with a slight nudge. The other came to rest on the side of his face, softly caressing the stubble that tickled your fingertips. Matt understood your cues, pressing his lips into your palm before pushing in. You felt the slow and delicious stretch of his cock, your mouth fell open, and a moan parted your throat in a way that drove him mad. He took his time and moved slowly, and as impatient as you both were, you understood that Matt was careful not to break you. The world and your worries ceased to exist as you were wrapped in the enrapture of one another, lost at being so physically connected that the only person you knew of was him. The only thing you felt was him.
Matt increased the pace, jolting you with each hard thrust as he pulled out just to slam back in again. Euphoria filled your body and mind, inspiring your thought to spiral into something deeper you weren't even aware of. You missed this. You missed sex, but not as much in the act itself. You missed being intimate with Matt. The way he understood you, the way he knew what you needed in the heated moments. He listened, he obliged, and he cared more about your pleasure than his. Finally having him here, like this, despite the rift you caused just months ago, made your nose sting. You thought you had lost him for good, and that alone gave a final push to the salted tears gathered in your eyes. Matt's pace faltered, yet, he still kept a steady rhythm, only slower than before. He touched your cheek, feeling the wetness at the corner of your eye, his brows furrowed in concern.
"Am I hurting you? Should I stop?"
You shook your head and pulled him down to kiss you; your lips moved together in urgency. He felt your plea to be consumed wholly, so he kissed you just like how you needed. Deeply, thoroughly, wholeheartedly. Your mouth eagerly opened to his demanding tongue. Your hips arched to meet his, silently asking him to pick up the pace. And he did. You let go; your fervent moans materialized and molten together in a melody. A song of lovers found, of lost souls touched and intertwined. Your hands grasped his sweat-dotted skin; your thighs banded around his hips like a mark. You tried to hold on as you didn't want this to end already, but Matt gave your wrist a squeeze, promising you it was okay. The frantic drive of his hips made it harder and harder for you to hold off, so you conceded. You came with a loud cry, and Matt held you through the intense wave of ecstasy. You moved your hips to meet his stuttering thrusts before Matt came too. A broken moan enveloped your hearing and pounding heart in a warm embrace. You held him close as he lay on top of you, welcoming his weight like an anchor, binding you to him, to where you had always belonged.
Time slipped by your woven hands much too fast to your liking as you nestled in Matt's arms, with his hand covering yours on your chest. He lavished you with attention, adorning you with kisses to dry up the tears that poured moments before until the inevitable happened. When it did, Matt left the bed with much reluctance, leaving you in the remnant of his warmth on the sheet. You heard him putting on his Daredevil suit and watched as he made his way to you, giving you one last lingering kiss. He smoothed a hand over your hair before putting his gloves on, and then he was gone with a promise of returning soon.
You flopped back to the bed and sighed, relishing in the afterglow. A tiredness settled in your bones, a result of all the exhilaration and anxiety that happened in the span of one night. You buried your face in the pillow that smelled like Matt, wishing he was here with you.
You could feel the pull of fatigue in your body, but your mind insisted on staying awake no matter how much you willed yourself to fall asleep. You tossed and turned and eventually gave up when it was clear you were only wasting time.
You leaned against the kitchen counter while waiting for the water to boil. The aroma of dry tea leaves soothed your nerves as you zoned out, trying to clear your head. Your eyes roamed the room aimlessly until they fell on the sealed file perched atop the dining room table alongside your purse. Its whispered promises of secrets revealed drew on your interest, and you allowed your curiosity to win after debating whether you should open it. After all, you had time to spare. For once, maybe you could stay ahead of your father's game.
You sat down and flipped through the file; your eyes read and examined every word written on the pages. Your eyes read the names next to their black-and-white photos. Ethan F., Theodore K., Terry M., Minh T., Rob H. No last names. Nothing else that might give away too much, only short descriptions of their blood types, medical summaries and respective recordings of what you couldn't fully understand. Stabilized with Aconitine. Responded well to the insertion process. Metal compounds with complicated names were assigned to each man. In Terry M.'s report, the recording was only half as long. His page was crossed out in a red X. You skimmed through the paragraph, noting the small differences compared to other men, and at the very end of it: Subject responded negatively to graphene. Increased dose. Subject unresponsive. Your brows scrunched together, and your stomach churned at what you were reading. You shut the file and leaned back in the seat, taking a moment to process.
Just because you hated your father didn't mean whatever he was planning was illegal. Maybe your source was wrong. Perhaps you were the bad person in this situation. You were so desperately hoping for your father's life-long project to be malfeasance that you overlooked the good things that did come out of it. He saved a life. He might have hit you, injured you for a long stretch of your life, but he saved someone. That must make the scale balanced.
The thought grew ugly and vile as it twisted at your insides, knowing it had the upper hand already. Your eyes were pricked with fresh, frustrating tears, and you blinked slowly, willing them to not fall.
No matter how you looked at it, abuse was still abuse. You had to remind yourself. It was hard to remember and believe it on most days because who were you to say that you were innocent, that you didn't deserve your father's beatings? If only you were a better daughter, a better person–
You stood up abruptly, cutting off your train of thought forcefully. The chair scraped the hardwood floor, making an unpleasant sound that made you wince. You hunched over, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale slowly in an attempt to slow your heart rate and the growing anxiety. You did it until your pulse returned to normal, until the dread in your stomach wasn't as intimidating as before.
You eyed your purse on the table and realized you might have a better understanding if you knew at least some of the extent of your father's project. You reached for your phone and quickly looked up your father's name. You watched as the results showed within seconds and scrolled through the headlines. They were all praises dedicated to "the most innovative doctor of our time". You clicked on the link written by a reputable scientist who worked closely with your father throughout the early stages of development, the article cited. The details they shared were generic enough to give a normal person a good understanding but not in-depth enough to give away their life's work. You read on as they sang your father's praises on how he reconstructed Aaron's broken spine by providing support with an unnamed material that was flexible yet durable. The procedure was described as "delicate, one-of-a-kind, state-of-the-art that will change the world for the better."
Before you could read further, the door to the roof opened, signalling Matt's return. You placed your phone on the table and watched him descend the stairs, gauging for any sign of injuries. He appeared unharmed, his steps light and quick as he approached you. You greeted him in the middle, your arms opened with a hug, and Matt returned your gesture of affection. You let him lift you off the ground, his face tilted up to find yours; his lips captured yours with urgency with his cowl still on. The hard material dug into your face, but you couldn't care less as you melted in his arms, grateful for his presence.
When you finally pulled away, Matt spoke, his voice deep and drunk from the kiss.
"What are you doing up?"
"I'm just looking over some stuff we took earlier tonight. I couldn't sleep."
You took hold of the helmet with one hand and tried to free Matt from it.
"Anything important?"
His hand moved to help you with the cowl as you responded distractedly at the sight of his face revealed.
"Oh, I'm sure everything in that file is important. I haven't figured it out yet though."
He went in for a peck, and your nose scrunched as it landed.
"I know you will. I'm here to help you as well."
"Thank you. I appreciate you."
You stroked the back of his neck, feeling the slightly damped hair there. Matt cleared his throat softly; a touch of tease edged in his voice.
"If you're still up, that means … I didn't do my job right."
Your smile widened at his meaning.
"You'll have to try harder then."
"Is that a challenge?"
He arched a brow, and you couldn't help but chuckle.
"It is if you want it to be. Do you … want it to be?"
"I think you know the answer to that already."
You threw your head back and laughed softly, exposing your throat to him. Matt caught the chance, dipping his head to kiss the sensitive skin. You squirmed in his hold and gasped softly when his grip on your thighs tightened as he carried you to the bedroom.
–
You pulled your bag closer to yourself as you stepped off of the subway, navigating the flow of pavement traffic. The weather had warmed up so much that you could ditch the scarf and heavy coat and opt for a light jacket instead. You checked your phone again to be safe and continued your route. Eventually, you stopped before your destination. The building looked decent from the outside as you took it in before checking the address one more time. Figuring you shouldn't stand in the middle of the sidewalk any longer, you walked in through the door. It opened even though it looked like you needed a key. You didn't question it as you took the elevator going up. The number ticked up slowly, and you felt your anxiety rise with it.
The elevator's doors opened, and you stepped out. At the end of the hall was where you saw it: the writing on the frosted glass pulled at your attention, indicating your stop. You closed the distance with assured steps and took a deep breath before you knocked. You waited patiently, listening as some dull sounds made it to your ears: a dull thud, a chair push, boots steps on the floor, and finally, the wooden door with glass pane revealed the person on the other side.
"You."
The woman levelled you with a cool gaze and an even colder tone, almost as if she was bored by your mere appearance.
"Me?"
"Yeah, you. The one with mommy and daddy issues."
You gave her a tight-lipped smile.
"It's nice to finally meet you in person, Detective Jones."
She rolled her eyes; her annoyance was clear at the formal and false title.
"I'm not a detective."
She turned on her heels and walked over to her desk, not bothering to see if you would follow her.
"Come in. Whatever you found for me better be good."
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