ultraviolents | inbox | in the night.

[ it takes a while for her to process that information, the fact that he hadn't stopped loving her either. she'd assumed he'd moved on, he'd told her he had, she'd seen it. even if he hadn't experienced it, there was no reason for her to believe he hadn't. and truth be told, she'd known it would probably be better for him if he did.

and now he's telling her that he hadn't. and that he'd known she hadn't, either. ]

Why now? Why tell me this now?

( of course he’d reflexively tell her he’d moved on. that he was perfectly happy in the life he’d built without her. doesn’t exactly make it true. and to be fair Matt was moderately happy in his fairly nice apartment with a blossoming legal practice with his best friend. he’d also been living a double life, maybe half a life — hiding he who he was because he more or less knew that the friends he’d grown so attached to couldn’t or wouldn’t accept who he really was. he moved on, that’s a fact, he had little choice in the matter.

that didn’t mean he could just turn off all the emotions left behind. that accepting she was gone meant suddenly everything he’d ever felt for her would disappear. he kept moving, as he always did, though it was a detached existence. from the world, and even from the people he cared about most. )

Seeing you like that, I think it’s the most scared I’ve been since I was a kid. ( with him, but at the same time so far away. hurt, terrified, and the chance that he couldn’t reach her seemed so vast. even once she’d started to calm, that horrible ache lingered, a reminder that couldn’t be pushed aside. ) I don’t know what happens tomorrow, if either of us have much longer here. If next time it isn’t hallucinations but something worse and something real and I can’t protect you from it.

( his hands knot into fists and slowly but surely the calm is seeping away. Matt doesn’t talk about his fears lightly, if at all. it takes a lot to get him to admit them, but finding her on his doorstep tearful and terrified is proof that he is frightened to lose her, even at the uncomfortable distance he’s been enforcing. )

I’m telling you now because I want you to know, and I don’t want to say it because it’s my last chance before I lose you. I want you to know now, while it can still mean something. ( mean what? that part he isn’t sure. he doesn’t suspect either of them can go back to the way they were before, the way everything was easy and thoughtless and unfettered. but it could still mean something. something more than loving each other at arms length because neither of them would admit it. )

[ her eyes don't leave his face as he continues to confess everything, and her heart both constricts and feels a little bit freer. she does her best not to think about the reality of their situation more often than not, that things could be reset whenever those in charge feel that they're no longer fulfilling their purpose, that anything in this place could wipe out their afterlife in the blink of an eye. when she'd come to him, she'd been afraid of just that, that they'd decided to reopen her wounds and let her bleed out from them because of some indiscretion, because she hadn't been behaving the right way.

but he's right. what they'd just been through is proof of that. they've been given a second chance here, and they're living on borrowed time.

she shifts closer to him, her knees curled by his lap, hand reaching out to frame his jaw as she turns him slightly to face her, leaning in close. her voice sounds impossibly soft as she speaks, so unlike how she usually sounds. so vulnerable. ]

It means something.

[ and then she closes the distance, slowly, with enough time for him to stop her if he decides this is a step too far. if he doesn't, her lips are going to find his, kissing him lightly, the tip of her tongue darting out to taste his mouth. ]

( nobody could blame her for not wanting to think about it. Robin seems at least congenial, but congenial doesn't erase the fact she could at once and in an instant wipe all of them clean, leaving this place back in the same blank standstill it started. even without her, apparently this place was doomed to nonexistence much sooner than later. Matt is conflicted on whether they're in purgatory or if this is something different, something worse — though the chance that this dimmed existence is all they have left and that sooner or later, they'll lose even that, means he doesn't want to waste it.

because while admittedly he can't say the ugly parts of their past don't still hurt, he can say that they aren't worth living the rest of his afterlife holding her at arms length.

it's true, her voice is nearly a whisper, barely more than a breath. he wasn't asking for touch or comfort, though that's what she offers, and he doesn't shy away from it. it doesn't even feel that sudden or unusual when they've been so close, even without a definition, for the past few days. he doesn't fight her, in fact after she hazards a kiss he just pulls her back into his arms and into his lap. if Elektra's worried he intends to be cagey about affection, she probably doesn't need to be.

the kiss is simple, more emotional than physical. less leading and more expressive, and yet if it lasted a lifetime it'd still have ended too soon. he rubs his hand at her upper arm, keeping his forehead pressed to hers as he wonders, ) What do you want it to mean? ( Matt is very far from confident about this, either. all he knows is that he isn't willing to waste what opportunity they have, even if things are bound to be different than they were before. they never had to ask questions like this before, now they feel necessary. )

[ the pull isn't quite expected, in spite of what she'd just done, but she goes easily with the sudden movement, settling onto his lap with her knees draped over his hips. her free arm loops around his shoulder and she leans against him, forehead pressed to his, as he asks her what she wants it to mean. ]

Whatever it means. I love you. [ he knew that, but she thinks he wants her to say it. ] What does it mean for you?

( well, he doesn't need her to say it, he's figured her out and she's already more or less confirmed it by not denying it. that's not really the point, hearing it is still better than putting clues and signs and pieces together and making assumptions. the affirmation is an important one, and it earns a small twist of his mouth. a smile — a fairly subdued one, all things considered, though there's much about this that is far from ideal. it's hard to be overjoyed by the prospect of a solitary snapshot, when they've lost so much time. that even if they make the most of every moment they have left, that's still all it can ever be. a moment.

Matt is used to losing people he loves. he just hopes that whatever their end is, they find it together. she won't be throwing herself in front of a blade for him again any time soon, he's really going to have to watch her around sharp objects from here on out. dying for him once is really enough! )

It means I want to be with you. Whatever happens next, however it ends, I want to do it together. ( the sentiment is sweet and sad all at once, but he means it. he unwinds one of his arms to leave it free to just ... ambiently touch her. he's touched her off and on since they'd found each other here, though he'd never felt free enough to touch her like this. nothing particularly romantic, just his fingertips gingerly running over every line and angle like he's trying to memorize them — reacquaint himself, is more accurate. Matt's senses do a lot for him, though his sense of touch is just as heightened and it's the one sense he generally keeps to himself. it means a lot to be able to just touch her again. ) I'm not sure how this will work, after everything, but that I know.

[ his hand traces over her body, mapping over her face and neck before traveling over her arms and chest. her eyes close as she lets him say his piece, suppressing a shiver as his fingers trace over her collarbone. it finally lands on her cheek and she removes her own hand from his face to cover his, eyes opening to look into his. ]

I want that, too. [ it's all she's wanted, since they'd gotten here and before dying. she won't bring up a promise he doesn't remember making, but it echoes in her head all the same. ] However we can make it work, I want to try.

( he could spend a lifetime mapping her body under his fingertips and still never be satisfied. for the interest of time, he sticks to the places he remembers most vividly. the strong muscles in her upper arms, the cords in her throat. the beautiful tilt of cheekbones and the corner of her mouth that tends to lift especially when she smirks at him. he runs the pad of his thumb under her eye, hand lingering at her face and at least momentarily idled of its wandering. the hand she curves around his helps to still him, too.

the smile he gives her this time is a little less heartbreaking. he's slowly thawing to the moment, despite the misery that prompted it. ) Then we'll try. ( it's what both of them want, and now that they've both admitted it, there's no reason to shy from the fact or pretend otherwise. he nuzzles toward her for a moment, like a needy cat demanding affection, before kissing her. no more heated than the last time — Matt just enjoys that he can. )

[ she returns his smile with a similar one, one filled with tentative hope and affection, and she nods against his throat, her head dipping forward to nuzzle in return and breathe in his scent. her heart beats faster and heat floods her skin beneath where his hands still lie on her body. ]

Okay.

[ he kisses her then, tipping her face towards his to do it, and she returns it eagerly but with no less reverence and softness. it doesn't need to lead anywhere but where it is (although she wouldn't mind that), she's content just to be with him like this. ]

( it’s almost hard to accept this moment is real. to be fair the past week they’ve been haunted by incredibly creative hallucinations. Matt hasn’t mentioned it but truly the hardest hallucination for him to shake hadn’t been Foggy, or Karen, or his father. it’d been his ugly thoughts wearing her voice in a luxurious purr. trying to convince him she’d never loved him, mocking him for falling for it twice. it’d been incredibly difficult to shake that voice, not to believe the hateful whispers — because they’d been ones he’d told himself for years.

he’d honestly been reeling from it a bit, before she stumbled her way to his door terrified she was bleeding to death. reality had done plenty to shake him of the hallucinations.

if he is hallucinating, well, this is about the only hallucination Matt is happy to indulge in. for a long few moments he just enjoys kissing her, while he lets his hands stroke at her sides, reliving the taste of her mouth. he doesn’t pull back far to talk, just lingering a breath away. )

I missed this. ( holding her. touching her. kissing her. it’s a little depressing he’s been missing her for years, and despite plenty of opportunity it’d taken him months to convince himself to allow closeness again. )

[ he still hadn't told her what he'd seen or heard. it would break her heart to know he was hearing her, make her supremely grateful that she hadn't heard him. it'll occur to her later that he hadn't told her what he'd been hearing, too wrapped up in tending to her and her own poisoned mind, and she'll ask him about it. maybe it's selfish not to do that now, but she doesn't want to. she wants this moment to remain uninterrupted for as long as it possibly can. ]

So did I. [ it's muttered a little breathlessly against his mouth, following his own confession, and her hands run back and forth over the broad expanse of his shoulders, heartbeat thudding steadily inches away from his own. they've touched since arriving, since her confessions of everything that had happened in the years since she'd left him and the time when she'd come back. they'd sparred, tended to each other, huddled close for warmth, but this is something different, an intimacy she's longed for, one she'd only ever found with him. ]

( considering the shattering revelation of exactly how much she'd hidden from him the first time around, perhaps it's not a surprise that they've build so much on honesty between them now. if Elektra asked about his hallucinations, he'd tell her. perhaps not easily or in much detail, considering things between them are old and new all at once. but he'd tell her, even though it'd be uncomfortable. he doesn't blame her for never asking — she'd been suffering with her own in far more depth and complexity. it was hard for her to leave her own torture to worry about his.

she's right, that this is very unlike the touches they'd allowed themselves before. there'd been some underlaying tension to it, the itch for more and the refusal to entertain it. especially sparring, why on earth had he ever thought that was a good idea? pressing her against the mat (or having her lay him flat and climbing on top of him to pin him there, victorious) only sparked memories of a time when sparring together had usually ended in sex. and sometimes quite abruptly.

the rest had been a different kind of closeness, maybe a closeness they hadn't had much of a chance to indulge in before disaster — they'd been high on life and each other, both, there hadn't been many wounds to care after that they hadn't made themselves. no emotional or mental torment that they needed to escape. they'd truthfully leaned on each other more in Beacon than they had in their wild past... apparently it'd been a part of their relationship after her return, he just doesn't remember the intricacies of it. he knows them now, because for all Elektra tried to hide her feelings, she'd never managed to hide when she was concerned about him. she fell back into tracks that were familiar for her, ones he couldn't remember, though he certainly connects with it now.

it makes the simple kisses feel a little deeper, truth be told. )

I don't want to miss you anymore. ( it's part of what spurred him to press in the first place, when arguably it was wiser and safer to keep pretending. he leans back a little, a slight frown playing at his face as he stares at her with empty eyes. he hates his blindness most in moments like this. ) What you're feeling, what you're thinking... you don't have to hold it back. I want to know.

[ he stares at her with such open, naked vulnerability, and she freezes, her heart pounding a little faster, echoing in her throat. he's being open with her in ways she knows he's been avoiding to protect himself, and she's been holding back to protect herself. she'd told him the facts of everything, but the facts hardly cover everything. they certainly don't cover how she's been feeling.

she falters a little, eyes canting to the side, landing on his shoulder. she anchors herself to him, hands bracing on them. she doesn't know if she wants to do this, but it doesn't feel fair not to. ]

I - [ she forces herself to look back at him, drawing in a breath before continuing. ] - I didn't think you'd want me. You moved on, back home. I thought you'd want to here, too.

( you moved on. he frowns, even as his thumb traces idle easy patterns on her thigh. as far as Matt remembers, he's moved on in that he'd finished his degree, started a practice with Foggy, built a life for himself without her — he doesn't remember being with Karen. not that he'd be particularly surprised, he was attracted desperately to how Karen perceived him, and it was easy to be endeared to someone so adamant about caring about and protecting others. he's had lovers since Elektra, though all rather short lived. never anyone he'd trust enough to admit the darker parts of his life. the only one who had even known about it decided caring about him that deeply was too dangerous because of it.

it takes him a bit to answer. he'd just asked for openness, he needs to offer the same as what he's asking for. it's not easy, when he's so practiced in caging his emotions and his thoughts in his head until they more or less implode. that doesn't mean he's not determined to try. )

When you left. I was convinced you'd come back. Maybe in a week, or a few months, a year... I was so sure. ( it's hard to think back to that time, when he'd nearly flunked out of all his classes, where his entire life was in desperate shambles. on one hand he was deliriously angry with her, trying to force his hand towards something she knew he'd never agree to. for disappearing in the first place. and the other was sure, dementedly certain, that since she loved him and they were two sides of one coin, two halves to one whole... that sooner, or later, she'd be back. ) I kept waiting, but you never did. You knew where I was, you knew how to find me, you just... didn't.

( it's like opening those old wounds to talk about it, and he's sure it won't be particularly enjoyable for her to hear. it's not exactly delightful for him, either. he can hear the fearful flutter in her heartbeat — whether it's the rawness of the question or fear for the answer, he's not sure. )

At some point I decided that you weren't going to. I couldn't live half a life waiting for someone that was never going to come back. ( he curls his hand around one of hers, braced against his chest. the words might sting, but he hopes to temper them with touch. ) But it was like living half a life. Nobody's ever known me like you. Either I couldn't tell them, or... or they didn't want to know. ( the angry rejection of his best friend still stings, no matter how deserved. Matt realizes he's a terrible person and the constant lies are a horrible strain on a relationship if they are to ever unravel... but in the end Foggy's reaction has more or less assured what Matt always assumed. that there are just parts of him, the angry, ugly, dark parts, that nobody would accept.

nobody except the woman that had disappeared like a breath in the wind. )

[ he brings up that she hadn't come back, that he'd thought she would, how much it had hurt him when she didn't, and she has to look away for a second, face canting down towards his chest. he might notice that her eyes are filling a little with tears she refuses to let fall. ]

He would have made me keep trying. [ stick, that is, and she looks back up into his face, her voice a little clearer as she starts to relay why she hadn't returned, even though she'd wanted to. ] He kept wanting to send me back to you, but I didn't - I didn't want to succeed in what I'd been assigned to do.

[ she'd seen what even the idea of killing the man who'd murdered his father had done to him, how it would have shattered him. she hadn't wanted to do that to him. ]

And when I - when you were attacked. [ he should know what she's referring to, when she'd killed that would-be assassin, quickly and without mercy. ] You were horrified at me. Scared of me.

[ and maybe things had changed between then and their fight on the rooftop, but that memory and the hurt associated with it hadn't disappeared. ]

( for what it is worth, he's not saying it to upset her. he's not trying to weaponize it, he doesn't really want to hurt her with what she can't change. uncomfortable as it is, it's a part of them now. better to admit it, as ugly as it is, than to hide it. she looks down and he watches her with quiet empty eyes, his thumb running light circles on the inside of her wrist. a note of comfort, for both of them really.

he could protest, insist that if she loved him she could have come anyway, it didn't matter what an old man demanded. in reality, he knows it is not that simple. he's been in the same thrall in the past, even as an adult. as a child he had far less defenses to the demands Stick had placed on him — giving a shit about the old bastard had apparently saved him from being drawn into the madness further. Elektra had never been so lucky. she hadn't seen an option to refuse, he doesn't have to ask her to know. maybe in hindsight she could, though what good could hindsight do them now? it wouldn't change anything but guilt her for things she couldn't change.

he does know what she means, though obviously he can't remember his reaction to it. Elektra mentioned him asking her to leave, though he'd never thought much of it. it sounded like a believable, reasonable reaction. he surely can't remember being dazed and horrified at the blood splayed over both of them, or hear the echoing heartbeat of a teenager slowly fading away next to him. )

I'll never be afraid of you, Elektra. ( and he means that. to be scared of her implies he has some fear that she'll hurt him — physically, anyway. and Matt has never been afraid of that, despite how visceral they both could be during sparring. he's never been afraid Elektra would truly harm him, it's usually his heart that ends up in danger when Elektra is involved. a bruise here or there doesn't matter to him.

that said, he can't discredit her entirely. he knows himself well enough that he can guess how he'd felt, why he'd reacted the way he did. ) I can't tell you I'm not horrified by the lengths you're capable of, but that doesn't mean I can't love you despite it. ( it's certainly not going to make things between them easy, Matt will simply never be okay with killing someone, especially needlessly. that said... ) You said you didn't want to succeed, to push me that far. Don't you think that means something, Elektra? If killing is meaningless, then why would it matter?

( he pauses, measuring what he wants to say. Matt is always thoughtful about what he says, and this conversation especially needs to be spoken well. )

Stick wanted both of us to fight and to kill for his war. You wanted to protect me from that, but there was no one to protect you. ( he'd been coercing her from the second he found her. to be a weapon, to follow his orders, to do as he demanded and to never question it. he convinced her to believe exactly what he wanted, that casualties were just a part of war. Matt doesn't buy that she delights in killing — however, he does buy that she was trained and groomed to be exactly as vicious and ruthless as Stick wanted her to be. that isn't her fault, though as someone who loves her, he wants more for her than that. )

[ it's not necessarily that she takes joy in killing as much as the thrill of being alive, having survived something she probably shouldn't have, taking the life of someone who would have gladly taken hers. it makes her feel powerful in a way that should probably feel more frightening and dangerous than it does. she'd lied when she'd told him that she'd taken her first life just to see if she could, but he hadn't detected it. maybe there'd been just enough truth to it to convince him, maybe it had been her convincing herself.

her heart starts beating a little faster when he says he can love her in spite of the lines she's willing to cross, the ones she'd tried to keep him from crossing himself, and she looks into his eyes in spite of knowing he can't look back into hers. this is what she'd feared, when it really came down to it, part of why she hadn't told him about how she's been feeling. she hadn't known if he could return the feelings simply knowing what they'd been through together instead of living through it.

he brings up that there was no one to protect her from stick's influence on her, and she'd known that already, but hearing him confirm it is significant in a way she hadn't expected. he doesn't know the full extent of it - how he'd found her as a child, barely out of infancy, in a village among hundreds of the dead, including her mother. he'd provided her with care and shelter, but had really been grooming her as a warrior for his own selfish needs, for control and for an army. and then had tried to snuff her out once she'd finally walked away. ]

Except for you. [ a tiny smile curves her mouth as one hand comes to frame his face again. ] You were the first one who thought I could be something more.

( no, he doesn't know the full extent. the horrifying full extent, as the case happened to be. it'd only make him more certain, that she'd had little choice and little perspective until it was too late. just like Matt's father had raised him unbearably Irish Catholic, Elektra had been trapped in a situation where the only guide she had was always skewed. Stick had some questionable morality at the best of times, and as far as his war with the Hand it mostly went out the window.

it's a story for another time. despite the fact they're both sad orphans, neither had really detailed it much. Elektra knew about his father and the details of how he died, but little about the years he'd spent in the orphanage. he had fairly little perspective on her life outside of her rich adoptive parents, ones that they'd barely bothered discussing.

he's not sure he'd agree that he's ever protected her. he's felt proof of the fact that he hasn't — Matt doesn't remember and never lived watching her cut down on a rooftop, and yet the proof of her scar under his touch makes it real enough. he hadn't protected her from Stick and he hand't protected her from the Hand. there's probably plenty in Beacon he can't protect her from, either, and it's not a fact he's particularly happy to accept.

the one thing they can agree on, though, is that he wants more for her than to be turned into someone's weapon. he leans toward her touch, and then forward, pressing his forehead against hers. ) You are more. ( he's determined to believe that — he hopes she believes it, too. )

[ he'd been willing to see more in her, even in spite of how they disagreed, even in spite of how she'd left, even in spite of moving on. maybe that's not protection, but in the end, she hadn't really been asking for protection. she'd made a choice that she'd make again, to protect him, to protect herself from being used as a weapon ever again, by the chaste or by the hand.

he knows this, but she's sure he'd have his arguments about whether or not he'd actually done anything for her and she doesn't feel like arguing that he had anymore. she doesn't feel like talking about any of this anymore, she just wants them to allow themselves to enjoy this moment, to really feel it.

her hand moves to the back of his skull, fingertips carding lightly through his hair before she pulls him closer, close enough to kiss. which she does. ]

( he knows. he definitely does still have plenty of arguments. they're all very good, which should be expected. he didn't pay for that columbia education for nothing! still, even Matt doesn't have it in him to argue endlessly. especially in a battle where there's likely no winners. no right, no wrong, just reality that can't be fought or changed, not when it's past already carved into stone. inescapable.

he can't do anything about what happened to her then. honestly there's not terribly much he can do to keep Elektra safe now. perhaps a part of accepting this requires he accept the inevitabilities. he doesn't have to like them, and he isn't ever likely to. still, knowing what can't be changed only seems to push the point that they take advantage of what they have. it won't be easy, and it'll never be perfect. it's still endlessly better than the loneliness both of them know too well. it's a far cry better than wanting more and refusing to let himself, because of the pain that will eventually find them.

it's worth the pain.

her nails hint at her scalp as her fingers pull through his hair. it's longer than he usually keeps it — easier to dishevel, Elektra is like to find. Matt likes the slight pull in his hair as she kisses him again, a little whisper of demand and possession that he has always liked, maybe more than he should. it pulls somewhere deeper, darker, a place words can't reach. not even someone as gifted at words as Matthew Murdock. it makes his response a little more urgent, maybe almost despite himself. Matt likes control, and nobody has ever managed to dissolve his restraint like Elektra. he kisses her back and allows himself to pull her closer. )

[ they both value control and hate giving it up. she'd known that back when things had first started - before they'd started, even, but that ties back into topics that she doesn't want to think about at the moment. his response to her relatively chaste kiss is eager enough for her to push things further, her fingernails biting lightly into his scalp before her hand flattens against the back of his skull, pulling him closer as she deepens the kiss, lips parting and tongue darting out, seeking permission to taste.

her arm slings around his shoulders and she shifts on his lap as she moves closer, pressing in as she pulls forward, eliminating most of the space between them. she's eager but not taking the reins just yet, wanting to make it clear that moving any further physically is up to him. ]

( it's true, he doesn't want to think about their complicated start. honestly he is quickly verging on a path where he doesn't want to think about anything. a rarity for Matt, he spends too much time thinking and often times over thinking. right now, he's falling back to a place where he wants to feel and experience more than he wants to let his thoughts run in circles. carve out paths of blame and guilt that changed nothing and made him miserable. which is not to say he won't do that, at some point. he just doesn't mean to do it now.

Matt hadn't predicted how this conversation would go, though it's safe to say he hadn't expected it to go quite this far. he'd have assumed he didn't want intimacy so soon, while she was still fragile and they were still making sense of each other in a way they hadn't let themselves in years. right now, though, he's not at all interested in letting go, setting any more lines or restrictions. even if this is as far as they go, finding simple delight in the taste and touch of each other on his musty old couch like teenagers, he thinks he'll be content.

there's a hum of approval in the back of his throat as she presses forward, eliminating space between them. he's held her a few times since she stumbled to his door in a panic, though there's something to be said about being this close because they want to be, and not because she's terrified. his hands are determined to travel, because despite his explorative touches so far... he's far from content. one is tipped through the fine strands of her hair to hold her fast as he reminds himself of the taste of her mouth. the other tightens on her hipbone, just for a moment, before moving behind her to run the sharp notches of her spine. even through the thin fabric of his shirt, it's as familiar as running his fingers along piano keys. might seem like an odd touch, if it weren't also a familiar one. he has always been fixated on the strong muscle of her back, the narrow cut of her spine. )

[ when her hallucinations had been at their worst, the only thing that had made her feel safe was his touch. it had grounded her, broken through the dangerous, vivid images, sounds, and pain to bring her back enough to reality to calm down. they've touched before then and since, but this is a different level of intimacy, one she's missed and craved, especially as they've grown close again.

there's a quiet noise of contentment from her throat as she feels his hand slip from gripping her hip to trace up her spine over her (his) shirt. her back straightens, hips rolling forward slightly as she shifts, her shoulders rolling back.

the fingers of the hand at the back of his hand twist into his hair, tugging lightly in encouragement. it has indeed gotten longer since they've arrived her, reminding her slightly of their earlier days, how his hair would get mussed and unruly during their sparring sessions or during sex. recalling that flushed, breathless excitement spikes her adrenaline and she deepens the kiss a little more before drawing her tongue back into her mouth, unleashing her teeth to nip lightly at his lower lip. ]

( it's a little like falling back through time, when everything seemed as easy as her kisses. as easy as loving her. he knows it isn't, anymore, there's so many complications he can't hardly name them all. so there's some reassurance in the fact wanting her is still so very simple.

there's at least some part of him that doesn't want to move too fast. she's plenty fragile still, whether she'd admit it or not. the rest of him is too indulgent of the closeness he's been mourning for a decade or so. it is hard to feel like there's harm in expressing what they feel in actions instead of words. in this instance, actions come a bit easier.

as he traces lovestruck patterns into her skin, even with the fabric between them, just enjoying the kiss for in an almost leisurely way. there's a hint of almost a smile at the pull of her teeth — something he's missed about Elektra is that she's never been afraid to brace her sweetness with sharpness. she's never worried about what he can or can't handle, when most of the world can't help themselves.

finally he reaches up to pull her hair over her shoulder. his shirt is sagging loosely on her far smaller frame leaving plenty of skin easily available, and with the hair out of the way he places his mouth there instead, feeling the trill of her heartbeat. the heat of her skin and the subtle smell of her that hasn't changed as much as he'd have thought, considering their circumstances. he's gentle at first, hot presses of lips over her pulse and her clavicle, but without much in the way of warning his teeth catch, just for a moment.

it's not as if he feels sorry for it either, because he sucks it after. Matthew is a bit possessive, so sue him. he likes that he'll smell that blood under her skin, and the reminder that he put it there. )

[ as much as he likes her balance of sweetness and sharpness, she loves the moments when he gets a little dominant and possessive. a quiet gasp is emitted as his teeth mark her skin, heat flaring underneath his mouth as he sucks at the mark he's made, her heart beginning to beat that much quicker. her head tips back, exposing that much more skin to him, a wordless invitation for him to continue.

the hand still at her side, tracing love notes over her body, is reached for with her hand twisting behind her back, and she captures his fingertips with her own, squeezing lightly before she pulls it to her front and rests it on her thigh, just underneath the hem of his shirt. ]

inbox | in the night.

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i feel like a monster for this but i don't have kiss icons for them yet

omg this betrayal

meanwhile you out here using kissies against me smh

i ain't done yet either :*

A MONSTER!!!

THAT'S MEEEEEEE

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now who's using icons against who!!!

at some point i'll torture you worse consider this a promise

BRING IT ON (fight to the finish)

WHO WILL WIN??? ? ? (it's not like i can cheat and make more as i go)

WELL THAT ONE JUST HAD YOU LEAPING AHEAD

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