#i'll get the coffee by kathryn gallagher is so beautiful | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

farfromstrange · 2 years ago

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Foreigner's God | m.m

Pairing: Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter Forty-Two: I'll Get The Coffee

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Summary: Everything is looking up for Matt and Eliza, finally, and being in love can be truly beautiful.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), oral m!receiving, voice kink (?), fluff, this is so fucking soft, like this is just domesticity at its finest, and these two finally being happy.

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY! Or as I like to call it, "Single's awareness day" because we are made aware of how painfully single we are everywhere we go <3 I wrote this with the original storyline in mind but then I went like, 'Wait a minute, I think these two deserve a break' and then this came out and I feel like I did it wonderfully. One of the best descriptive chapters I have written in my opinion (at parts, at least). I hope you can forgive me for this small break in the plotline.

The name she chose when she joined SHIELD came from a variety Nick Fury had laid out for her. With the title came a series of key points that would shape her identity. She chose her name with those traits in mind and landed on the most appealing one. She had always been rather proud of her name because it was the only thing in her life she could control, but that excitement eased after finding out she was born with the name Alina and that the name and identity she chose were just an alias to survive. Someone to exist in the eyes of the state so she could live like any other US citizen and not be locked away for it.

When she first came to SHIELD and she was pardoned by the court while also receiving immunity for her crimes if she stayed true to the conditions she agreed to, the name she was given had felt like a blessing. Now, it filled her with dread.

When Tony Stark stepped out of the back door of Clinton Church where the cemetery lay beyond and he said, “Eliza,” she cringed at the mere sound of her name.

The gravestone wasn’t too fancy. It displayed his name, his date of birth, and the date he died. There was no quote, no ‘beloved father’ engraved underneath the most crucial information. He was simply Anton Sokovich-Petrova who was born in March and died in late June of 2016. He blew up an ancient terrorist organization and prevented an even worse fate from meeting his daughter, but that would have looked poorly on a gravestone.

All that was left for him was the boring gray stone that had been glazed over. A place for his daughter to stand at, leave flowers, and do all of the sentimental stuff people do at the graves of loved ones. She doubted she would; she hated the way it made her feel, how the pain caused her throat to tighten, and it made her angry too. She was angry at how everything turned out, and she was angry that her father died. Her parents were both dead and she didn’t have any extended family. She was all alone when it came to blood relations and the knowledge that she hadn’t been able to say goodbye to any of them made her already broken heart into liquid acid.

Eliza, that was her name, but at that moment she wasn’t the woman SHIELD made out of her. At that moment, she was the five-year-old daughter of Anton whose name wasn’t Eliza Bennett, it was Alina and she was standing with her father at the grave of her late mother, leaving lilies on the already grown-over earth as if it meant anything. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the memory crawled its way forward and nestled into her frontal cortex.

The hand that was in hers squeezed lightly, reminding her that someone behind her was waiting for a reaction. She looked up at the sky, cloudier than usual, blinking away the hot tears that she had already cried too many of.

“Do you want me to tell him to leave?” Matt’s voice sounded in her ear, a gentle echo that scratched an itch in her brain.

She squeezed his hand back, though she felt more like an emotionless robot that wasn’t in control of herself.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? You don’t owe him anything.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eliza said, her eyes still directed forward and her face white as a sheet, “but I want to.”

He nodded. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Using his cane to tap his way over the grass, Matt made his way over to where he could hear Foggy’s distinctive voice as he talked to Happy. They were talking about football, from the sound of it. There was a new game on Sunday and they were both engaged in how it would turn out. At some point, he could hear, they even made a brotherly bet on who was going to win the game. It was a terrible topic to discuss at a cemetery after someone had just been laid to rest, but Matt figured that it was better not to dwell too much on what happened than to let Father Lantom’s service drag their moods down.

Tony approached the young woman at the grave.

“Where does that leave us?” she asked.

He replied, “What?”

“You coming here. Where does that leave us? You didn’t answer any of my messages. You ghosted me after writing a heartfelt letter and now you came to my father’s funeral as if it’s the most natural thing to do after not speaking to anyone for weeks,” she said. “Where does that leave us, Tony?”

He was not a man of many words or actions, but when he spoke, he knew how to use the little number of words that came out. Although this time, nothing seemed to suffice. He wanted to comfort her but he didn’t know how.

“I told you that I now understand why you did what you did and that I am open to talking about what happened. You didn’t respond. I don’t know what that means, so I’m asking you: what did your apology mean if it meant anything at all?”

Tony nodded curtly. He turned his head toward the sky as well, taking a deep breath that developed into a sigh. “I feel guilty,” he finally spoke, “for what I did, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I said, what I did, and how I behaved like an asshole,” he said. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I said as much in my letter, but you’re willing to offer it to me anyway. I didn’t know how to react, so I shut down. I drowned in my guilt and shame to the point no one could help me anymore. I realized I fucked up and that most of what happened are on me and that is something… Your getting hurt is something that I can never forgive myself for. The protection charade was complete and utter bullshit and I'm... well, I'm fucking sorry, that's what the letter meant, and I still am, possibly even more than before.”

“What changed?” Eliza asked. She held her jacket closed by crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Why did you choose to come here today?”

“Your invitation to your father’s funeral opened my eyes. He died for a reason and I… I don’t want you to hate me anymore. I want to make things right. I don’t know if you can find it in yourself to give me that chance, and it would be okay if you didn’t, but if you did, I promise you I won’t ever lie to you again. Not even about what’s in your dinner.”

She chuckled weakly. “That’s all I needed to hear… weeks ago. Now it’s just cold air.”

“Eliza, please, I don’t apologize often, but I am sorry. Let me prove it to you. Come to work for me again, let me show you that I meant what I wrote in that letter. Let me just let my actions speak for myself the same way my actions fucked everything up."

Life’s too short to hold grudges. And he had always been like a father to her before, and a great mentor at that. She could learn so much from him. She needed to learn forgiveness, which also happened to be on her sobriety list of steps, and she swore she would do them all. She forgave him, but something was lacking, something crucial that wouldn’t reappear overnight.

Eliza cleared her throat. She tore her eyes away from the sky and turned to him, finally, looking into his eyes. “You need to earn my trust,” she told him. “I forgive you, Tony, but my trust… that is something I can’t just give back to you. You need to prove that you truly meant what you said so I can fully trust you again, and only then we can move on from this.”

“Okay, I can- I can do that." He didn't smile, he gave her a curt nod. It was a language they both spoke well - not knowing what to say.

“One more condition: I won’t come back to work for Stark Industries. I’ve got a job right here.” She nodded toward Matt and Foggy. “I’m not giving that up. I'm happy where I am, and I don't want to throw that away just for money."

“Deal. What else?”

“There is nothing else. The rest is on you. In return, I’ll do the same for you. But it’s going to take time.”

“Lucky for us,” said Tony, “we have all the time in the world. There's nothing that stands in our way now, right? You did your best and you did better than I ever fucking could.”

"You're right, I did great. You didn't. Do you see now that I am not a child anymore?"

"I've seen it for a long time, I was just afraid to admit it."

She hummed, "Figured that much."

"So, do we have a deal?"

She took the hand he offered her, shaking it briefly. Their eyes stayed locked on each other; it appeared as if they were fighting for dominance, and the pressure of the handshake told the same story. In the end, Eliza won. He was the first to turn away from the contact and she smirked, wiping her hand on her dress.

He cleared his throat once more. “This is getting weird,” he must have read her mind, “So I’m just gonna turn around and go. That’s- yeah, I should probably do that.”

“It’s for the best,” she said.

“Definitely. Good talk, kid.”

She watched him step away and toward Happy’s car. Foggy and Matt didn’t say a word to him, and she couldn’t blame them. After everything, they had their reservations about the genius billionaire philanthropist playboy. It was only natural, a defense mechanism to make sure he wouldn’t come near them again. In this case, they wanted to make sure Tony knew that if he touched Eliza again, he would face a whole different orchestra of music.

She chuckled at their overprotective nature, then turned back to the gravestone. It seemed to stare even harder than Jesus on his cross.

Eliza cracked her neck, frowning at the empty grave. “Don’t look at me like that, you wanted us to get along again, dad.” Naturally, she didn’t receive an answer. Even if there had been a body, the dead usually don’t speak with the living, so she wouldn’t have received an answer either way.

“And now I’m talking to a literal stone like those people in the movies. That feels even weirder than playing pretend with a fucking toddler.” She wiped her runny nose with her sleeve. “But at least your soul’s where it’s supposed to be now. Thanks, dad.”

He probably heard her, wherever he was and thought to himself that he won. But it wasn’t Anton that motivated her to forgive Tony, it was her mind. She made that decision. She had control over her life the same way she had back then when she first had to choose her new identity.

She was in full control of herself now and even the last hurdle was out of the way. Her father was dead, but the world would carry on. It was time for a new beginning, starting right then and there. She could move on.

Birds chirped in the early morning sun, basking in the soft rays of red that broke through the earth’s surface and supplied the planet with light. A soft wind blew through the green leaves on the tree, sending some soaring through the air. It was a soft morning breeze that caused a welcome chill on the skin, but the sun made the cold go away just as fast. Little clouds danced over the sky, forming mythical shapes.

The City of New York slowly woke out of its slumber. Curtains opened, coffee makers sizzled, and toasters worked in high gear. The day started differently for everyone, some were happy to be awake, others not so much, but the warm weather and clear skies made a look out of the window worth it, and it was enough to raise the mood in every household, even if just for a moment of relief between breakfast and getting ready for work.

The arm that was draped over her waist slowly slid a hand under her shirt, scurrying for warmth. Still drunk on sleep, she allowed the force to pull her back into the sturdy chest she knew all too well. Sloppy kisses followed the wandering hand, his soft lips leaving the breath of an angel on the skin of her shoulders.

The chirping of the birds grew louder. The sun broke through the slit in the curtains, filling the bedroom with at least some daylight and illuminating the small particles of dust that levitated in the air. Clothes were strewn all over the floor, even one of the pillows had fallen off the bed and added to the fabric pile.

Matt woke up first. Not quite aware of his surroundings just yet, he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. The slight scratch of his freshly trimmed stubble had her stirring in her sleep, and she slowly began to wake.

He continued kissing her skin and tracing his fingers over her heated stomach until she let out a tired whine. Eliza flipped around, burying her face in his chest, and somehow tried to evade the process of waking up.

He chuckled at her failed attempt, running a hand through her hair. “Good morning,” he said.

She grumbled.

“Someone not awake yet?”

She grumbled again.

“I take that as a no.”

“Five more minutes,” Eliza whined. “Don’t wanna get up.”

“That makes two of us. This is cozy,” Matt wrapped both of his arms around her to hold her body to his even closer, “and I love cozy.”

“And you’re warm.”

“That too.”

She made a content sound in the back of her throat; it resembled the purr of a small cat. His chest rumbled with the soft chuckle he let out, his voice still groggy and thick with sleep. His nose was slightly stuffed from the used air that had collected in the room. Matt made a mental note to open the window as soon as they got out of bed and the risk of her getting sick was minimized. She froze easily, he didn’t want to add to that and cause a cold.

Eliza buried her nose between the pecks on his chest. He not only smelled like himself but he smelled of her shampoo and partly of her perfume that lingered in the sheets. It was a comforting smell that had her floating on cloud nine. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was nothing to worry about. She closed the chapter of her past and she found herself. They saved the world and in the process, he saved her.

Matt Murdock saved her life. He did so the second he stepped into the interrogation room to bail her out. He came back. He always came back.

The world was okay again. It wasn’t perfect, it couldn’t be, but she could finally sort out the feeling that caused such warmth in her chest. She was happy. She was so in love and she was happy with the man she loved by her side. There was nothing that could tear them apart now. They made it through hell and still stuck together.

At the beginning of the year, she would have never thought her life would take such a drastic turn. She couldn’t have predicted the fallout after the Sokovia Accords or Hydra. If someone had told Eliza that she would almost die but find the love of her life that year, she would have called them crazy or even delusional. She had never fathomed something like this possible. Her life often went to shit, so something like Hydra coming back to haunt her was bound to happen, but finding Matt was a destiny come true that she could not have seen coming. All the fears she’d had before were gone now and she could finally rest.

Her life was finally on the up again.

“You know you can’t get inside of me, right?” Matt mused into her ear.

She whined, pressing her face so deeply into his chest that her nose got squished. “Why not?” she said.

“Because I can’t absorb you, that’s not how it works, love.”

“Unfair.”

He chuckled again, lazily tracing his callused fingertips over her spine. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

The heat rushed to her cheeks. “Stop it.”

“Never.”

“I’m not as beautiful as you make me out to be.”

Matt gasped, and although it sounded playful, it was far from it. He tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her head back gently and just enough to bring her face to the same level as his. She closed her eyes, afraid to look at him, but he merely traced the loose strand of hair from her face and grabbed her cheek. “You are beautiful,” he said again, eyes loving though they didn’t meet hers, couldn’t possibly, but she felt every ounce of his love in the way his lips pressed to hers, caressing her with such unconditional love that had her shaking.

“How can you judge that? You’ve only seen me once-”

“I don’t need to see you to know that you’re beautiful. Pushing away the thought that I objectively saw you, I use other markers to judge your beauty, even though beauty is something I feel like no one is allowed to judge. To me, you are beautiful. And you wanna know why?”

She shook her head, nose still pressed against his. “Tell me,” she said.

“First of all,” he began and with his arm hugged around her waist, he rolled them over until she laid on her back underneath him, “I can feel you,” he said.

His index finger started at her forehead, tracing over the worry line that was nothing but a faded memory under his touch. He smoothed over her eyebrows, following the growth. He traced her temple, the distinctive vein that popped when she was angry or swallowed hard; he felt her pulse there. Then, he traced along the bridge of her nose and the top of it, pressing down slightly and she scrunched, making him chuckle.

“That’s cute,” he murmured, “when you do that.”

He continued his wordless journey over her cheekbones, the skin red with the blood that pooled underneath, and so were her lips that she kept continuously biting with every electrifying touch he left on her skin. He pulled at her plump bottom lip, tracing the cupid’s bow of her top lip. Her tongue darted out to lick over his thumb, sucking on it momentarily before he pulled away.

“I can feel you,” Matt told her, “and every scar or wrinkle on your face. I can feel every crevice and every imperfection that you hate but I love so damn much. And your eyes…” he traced her lashes. “I don’t even need to know the color, although I do now, to know that you are beautiful. You were beautiful to me before you showed yourself and you are still now. I love your eyes,” he said, “because they always look at me, no matter where you stand or where you are. You always seek me out and when you see me and your heart jumps, that’s when I know your eyes start to sparkle and you look at me the same way I do when I think of you.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her lungs out of breath.

“Like you’re my world and I am yours.”

With his hand still on her cheek, he pulled her toward himself and captured her lips again. This one was no less gentle.

“And your lips are kissable, but you know that. You knew that already.”

Still, out of breath, Eliza kissed him again. The words out of his mouth turned her head. They made her feel all kinds of things, none of them bad. She had never felt so on top of the world. He showed his love and devotion plenty, but his words paid with his touch were enough to make her fall even deeper in love with him.

When her kisses grew more desperate, he pulled back. “I’m not done yet,” he said.

His finger brushed along her jawline and down her neck where he traced her pulse point and her sternum. He painted a picture on her collarbone, moving lower down until he reached the collar of her top. Without struggle, he pulled the fabric over her head, leaving her torso bare to him. He drew stars over the vertical scar that adorned her chest and abdomen, a reminder of the worst night of both of their lives, and then he moved on to the smaller scars, paying the same attention to them. There was one on her hipbone and her lower stomach.

He found her thigh, reaching into the leg of her shorts only to touch the skin he had missed, then traveled back down over the other scars that she had put on herself, the stretch marks on her sides and her ass, but even when she gasped, he didn’t stop. Matt felt the urge to prove to her that nothing could disgust him about her and that he loved every inch of her body. He worshipped the ground she walked on and he worshipped her body like her body itself was God. She felt like the filthiest yet purest heaven. He would drown in her any day. She owned him, body and soul, and he bowed down to the woman she was.

Lastly, he pressed a kiss over her heart. He felt the organ jump in excitement, an emotion only he could elicit.

“Like I said,” his breath fanned hot against her skin, “Beautiful.”

“Matthew,” her voice had shrunk over time.

“Have I told you that the sound of your voice is the most beautiful sound to me?” Matt didn’t even think about stopping. “I love listening to it. I love how it changes pitch or volume according to how you feel,” he said. “Like it did just now. It sounds like the sweetest of honey, but not the overwhelming kind. You’re the sweetest, most exquisite honey. The one that runs straight from the spoon into your tea and it makes you feel all warm inside.”

The hand she fell in love with wrapped around her neck like a vice. The gasp got caught in her throat, sending shivers down her spine. Her nipples reacted instantly to his touch, even though he was far away from stimulating them. Only his voice reverberated in her ears and it sang a symphony of the highest order.

His nose brushed against where his hand was wrapped around her throat and he inhaled sharply. “Your scent is the most distinctive, so I always know when you’re in the room,” said Matt, and Eliza shut her eyes at his wandering nose. It stopped behind her ear, taking another long whiff and it sounded almost as if he swallowed a moan. “Right now, you smell like my body wash and laundry detergent, but you also smell slightly salty, like rain. There’s some vanilla stuck to your skin from your perfume, and maybe it’s cinnamon, I’m not sure. You have this distinctive smell about you that instantly makes me turn my head your way because no one else smells like that. You’ve got me so high off of you, it sometimes feels like you’re a witch. Because every time you are near, I feel compelled to be with you, to kiss you, or to touch you in any way. It might be weird,” he said, “but I don’t care. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and I want to be with you every second of the day if necessary to feel you in the most intimate of ways. I know we can’t, it’s not how life works, but if I could, I would. I would die between your legs just to smell your pussy, I don’t care. I just want you.”

He drew the first lewd moan out of her. Her back arched, wanting to be touched so desperately she had never wanted it more. Her skin felt as if it was on fire and she hadn’t realized it before but the sweat started pooling out of her pores and her cunt ached for his attention. What started as a gentle display of love shot straight to her core and one look at his blissed-out expression told her he was doing it on purpose. He got off on it, that bastard. He purposely drove her up the walls in a way that was beautiful in itself. He was the beautiful one, surely, not her.

His blunt confession made her clench her thighs, but his body between them forced them open.

At the scent of her arousal in the air, Matt restrained himself from moaning the way he wanted to. He would have taken her right then and there, but his mission was not yet complete.

“The way you taste, now that is something… I can’t even describe it. I mean, my senses are more often than not overwhelmed beyond compare and I can taste how certain things smell, like tears for example, or sweat. It’s all very unique in my head,” he stated. “I experience the world differently with my senses, but you already knew that. When I feel you, when I hear or smell you, it’s different. It’s intense. You’re everywhere and while that may sound overwhelming to a man like me, with you it’s not. You’re not intense, only the experience is, and you calm me more than you keep me on edge. You’re not loud or dirty like New York is. You’re not an attack on my senses, it’s… I find you beautiful because you’re everything but overwhelming to me. You’re the beauty I lack in what I have to hear, smell, taste, and feel every goddamn day. So when I taste the sweat on your skin-” he licked a long stripe along her throat, “or when you’ve baked something that smells good and I can taste the remains on you, it’s an escape for me. And when I go down on you?” he said. “Now that is something that could keep me going for years because your taste gets me high. Your taste lingers, it makes me want you more every time I do it, and I could never tire of eating you out. Between your legs is where I want to be because even then, the world turns quiet and it’s just you and me and your pleasure that is on my mind. It’s what’s important. Everything else - the world, the city, they don’t matter. It’s just you that I need.”

He didn’t even get a second to breathe. Her lips were on him without hesitancy, locking her leg around his hip and pulling his entire body into hers. Her kisses were bruising, biting on his bottom lip and assaulting his tongue with her own.

“Get me out of these clothes, Matthew,” she demanded, lifting her hips.

He pulled at her shorts and underwear until they came off. Left in his boxers, Matt ground against her core. It was only the silk of his underwear that kept them apart.

“Do you believe me now that you’re beautiful?” he whispered into her ear.

The kiss was forgotten for a second as she stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “I know one thing that is more beautiful,” she replied.

“And what is that?”

“You.”

His name was nothing but a breath when he removed the last piece of clothing in the way and skilfully thrust his hard cock into her tight cunt. She was wet and warm and he added that to the list of things he found beautiful about her. He molded into her and they became one. They were connected with every nerve ending. With every kiss, they grew closer together. With every thrust of his hips, their connection grew stronger.

He panted into her ear. “You feel so fucking good, Angel. So beautiful,” he said. “And you’re all mine.”

“Yours,” she breathed back.

Their lips connected again, dancing heated against each other.

“Matthew.”

He pressed his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” she said.

His breath shuddered and he moaned in the back of his throat, cradling her head tighter so he could have full control, and she let him. “Fuck,” was all that came out as he picked up his thrusts, hitting that spot inside of her perfectly. Every nerve was already so sensitive, she clenched around him every time he drove home and he could feel every muscle mold around him as if she was only made for him.

It felt territorial almost, the pull he felt toward her and how he wanted everyone to know that she was his and no one else’s. No one else could have her. He was the only one who could make her feel this way and he was adamant about proving it every time they so much as sensually touched each other. He owned her, but she was also her own person and the claim he felt over her came from a place in his heart that was more of the Devil than Matt Murdock, but at that moment, with his cock so deep inside of her and his lips sucking marks into her skin, neither of them cared. She would be purple and blue once they were done, and she would carry those marks with pride because she loved being claimed by him. She loved being his and she would continue doing so until death would tear them apart.

When he had started rubbing her clit, she wasn’t sure, but the wave of the orgasm was close to overtaking her. He twitched and she knew he felt the same, but there was something about both of them holding back that made the experience even more magical. Neither of them wanted the moment to end so they both walked the tightrope, holding onto each other with the purpose of not stumbling and falling into the deep end.

“I love you too,” Matt managed to choke out. “God-” he pulled at her hair, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss that made the burning in her belly so much worse. “I love you so much.”

She whimpered into the kiss. “I know.”

“You close?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You wanna cum with me? Can you do that? Fuck- please. Be a good girl for me.”

With their lips pressed tightly against each other, the wave crashed into the shore. It was strong, it was burning, it mutated into an inferno that took down everything with it, and they so loved to burn alive.

His hips stilled eventually. He gave her all he had and it still felt not enough. She breathed heavily, her body slacking into his arms and he collapsed on top of her. He was exhausted and she was, too, but in the best way. She cradled his head into the crook of her neck; it was her turn to take care of him. His soft pants waved over her sensitive skin, the sweat in his hair transferring onto her body.

“Oh, my-” she exhaled. Her chest deflated with a heavy sigh. “Matty.”

He made an incoherent sound.

“Are you okay?”

After a moment of contemplation, he nodded. She stroked a hand through his hair, relieved to have received at least some sort of an answer. His breathing slowed down after a moment and so did his heartbeat that was drumming against hers.

Matt lifted himself on his forearm enough to pull out and dropped on the mattress next to her.

Eliza instantly moved to lay on her side, reaching out for his face. His eyes were closed. He still wasn’t present, his thoughts a mess, and his body on fire with all the different sensations and feelings that seemed to attack his soul. He tried not to show how sex affected him often, but even he had his weakest moments, and she loved him even more for showing them to her. He didn’t have to be afraid of her reaction, he could just be himself, and if he was overstimulated and tired after fucking her in a way that had been both loving and intense, she would make sure he got out of his trance just fine.

He licked his dry lips. “Do you, uh, need a towel?” even his voice sounded disoriented.

She chuckled lightly, stroking his sweaty hair back so it wouldn’t fall into his face anymore. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ll get us cleaned up. You just lay back and breathe.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Leaning down to kiss him, he placed a firm hand against her sternum. His eyebrows furrowed and he winced. “No kisses.”

“Okay,” she moved away instantly, giving him the space he needed, “I’m sorry.”

“‘S too much. Not your fault.”

“I know, baby. I’ll be right back.”

The space allowed him a few minutes to get his thoughts back in order. He focused on the silk sheets and the air that smelled like her. He listened to her heartbeat in the other room and then some more when she came and cleaned up the cum that covered his lower half as well as it had hers. She did it so carefully, he barely felt it. All the while her hand stayed wrapped around his wrist, drawing soothing circles on the skin.

She settled into bed next to him again, pulling the covers over their naked bodies. Trying not to touch him, she scooted close enough for him to feel her comfort.

Matt exhaled. “That was-“ he trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Intense.”

She said it at the same time as him, nodding along. “Yeah, it was. But it was good, right? You liked it too?”

It had to have been by far the gentlest sex they had ever had, and with all the feelings he stirred up before it had made the experience intense on a level neither of them was used to. So this was what making love felt like. It wasn’t raw fucking, it wasn’t rough, it was gentle throughout and focused solely on feeling each other.

His Adam’s Apple bopped as he swallowed. “Yeah, I did,” he wasn’t a man of many words when he was overwhelmed. She knew it was the truth though. He would have told her if it wasn’t. “Did you?” he asked then.

She blinked wildly, surprised that the question came when it was his moment of vulnerability and not hers. He was ever a selfless person, even when he wasn’t fully himself.

“I did,” she said.

“Good, that’s good.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, bug.”

“Is it okay if I touch you now?”

He opened his arm. “C’mere.”

She placed her head on his chest. His skin was hot and still flushed from the orgasm, as was his face. She had never seen a more beautiful sight. Tracing her fingers over his scars, Matt finally returned to himself fully and he hugged her to his bare chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured, “for everything.”

“Don’t have to thank me,” she told him. “I’m always going to take care of you.”

“That’s what makes you so good.”

“I don’t know about good, but-“ Eliza searched for his lips, “I’m better with you.”

He melted into the kiss. It was peaceful. With the birds in the background and the sun on the rise, the world was okay, and time was merely a construct.

That was until the obnoxious declaration of Foggy’s name caused by his phone broke the silence and their kiss in two.

Matt reached over with a scowl, but he missed the device and accidentally caused it to soar to the floor. He tried to stop it, but his reflexes weren’t quite awake yet. He grunted at the thought of having to get up to shut it off, and letting it ring hurt his ears too much. He leaned over, but Eliza had already thrown herself over his chest and fished his phone off the floor. She swiped right, answering, “Yeah?”

“Good morn- Liz?” Foggy sounded from the other end.

“Yeah.”

“This is Matt’s phone.”

“Yeah, I know. He dropped it.”

“You- okay, I still have to get used to you two living together.” Cars rushed in the background and she could hear the clear honking of a driver that seemed unsatisfied with someone who cut him off. “Anyway, I just called to tell you guys to get the fuck up!”

“What time is it?” She squinted her eyes at the alarm clock.

“Half past get the hell up! We have work today. You know the thing where you have to come into the office and do something productive the entire day?”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I know what work is,” she retorted.

“Oh, yeah? Then why are you late?”

“Oh, my God! Foggy, we had sex, that’s why we’re late. Matt and I did a very adult activity that took a lot longer than expected and that is why we will be coming in a few minutes late today. Unless you want us to come strutting in naked and sweaty, you let us take a shower and we’ll see you at the office. Good day!”

She hung up, leaving Foggy flabbergasted and quite frankly a little disgusted, but he brushed it off as he made his way down the street with two cups of coffee in his hand — one for Karen, one for him.

Matt raised his eyebrows, brown eyes filled with pure amusement when she slapped his phone back down on the nightstand and resumed her position on his chest.

“What?” Eliza challenged.

“Can I get you bragging about our sex life on tape?” he said. “Because that was hilarious.”

“Oh, shut up!” She rolled over with a groan.

“A very adult activity.”

“Matthew, shut up!”

“I need that on a sign that I can put on the door whenever we have sex. I had one of those Do Not Disturb signs in college, but that sounds way better. Adult activities in progress. We should get that framed.”

In response, he received a pillow to the face. His laugh grew louder and she hit him again, this time with more force.

“You are a violent little thing,” he mused. “If that’s what you want-“ reaching behind himself, Matt grabbed his pillow and smacked her across the face with it, “You got it.”

She gasped. She underestimated the force he could put even behind a soft piece of fabric.

Eliza licked her lip, fluffing out the pillow she was holding. On her knees, she flipped to look directly at him. “It is so on,” she said.

He slipped into his underwear, something she had done while she grabbed a towel for them, so their state of clothing was almost equal. She wore one of his thin sleep shirts, but it gave her enough space to move without losing a boob or two.

Her eyes grew darker and her bicep tensed. She took this seriously. Matt was not about to pass out on an opportunity to humble her.

When it came to pillow fights, he would always win.

“Careful,” he said, and his words were what truly started the game of cat and mouse that sent them chasing each other around the apartment, “you might hurt yourself reaching for me.”

She growled, “The only thing that’s gonna get hurt is you.”

He laughed when he jumped out of bed and to the foot of it, holding his pillow like a wall of defense.

“It’s like a puppy threatening me with his leash.”

A pause. She stared at him, eyes narrowing, and then, “Run.”

Matt’s first instinct was to jog into the living room. She followed close behind with her pillow at the ready. They stood at either end of the couch, and even though they were well-trained, they panted from the short distance traveled.

“To hit me, you have to actually go around the couch,” he said.

She ground her teeth. “Not necessarily.” She hauled her arm back and then forward, and let go of the pillow. It hit with precision, landing in his face. He tried to catch it, but it flew too fast, even for him.

He played with it. The smirk he gave Eliza was shit-eating and laced with mischief. “You know that that was a mistake, right?”

She had already grabbed one of the cushions by then, cocking her eyebrow at him. “Wanna bet?” she said.

He chuckled. He was the first to take a step and she followed in the opposite direction. The couch was still between them, but it was only the backrest now. Her eyes sparkled. This was her shot. He didn’t see it coming, metaphorically speaking. She easily jumped over the backrest, catching herself on the seat, and hit him over the head with the couch cushion again.

Out of reflex, Matt responded with his pillows, hitting her back. She squealed. Her weapon of choice was much harder; he eventually fled her notorious attack. Eliza jumped from the sofa, with her hair disheveled and the shirt bunched up over her ass. In her state of playful rage, she tossed all of the cushions toward him. She hit him in at least three different places - not even the pillows he stole from the bed could protect him. In the end, though, she was left with nothing and he had all of the pillows, and she only realized that too late.

He sighed. “Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but you’re fucked,” the words flowed so flawlessly, she wondered if she was talking to the same person who spoke so eloquently in the courtroom. Of course, she knew better. She knew he had a dirty mouth deep down, but it had never shown this extreme. Perhaps she was rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

“Uh-oh,” she gasped when he charged at her. Eliza ran circles around the couch with him hot on her heels, and once again they stood on opposite ends. She calculated - there were two ways he could run. If she pretended well enough, she could trick his senses into thinking she went the other way, and then she would be able to rearm herself in the bedroom.

Matt being Matt though - or in this case, it was the Daredevil in him - saw right through her plan. She tried to fool him by leaning right, but he caught her before she could run. Halfway on her way to the bedroom, the pillow hit her and she squealed again. After hitting her a few good times to the point she was suffocating with laughter, he threw the pillow aside and wrapped his arms around her to keep her from leaving.

“Gotcha,” he purred into her ear.

“That is so not fair!” She cried out when his fingers dug into her sides, searching for the spot he knew she was most ticklish at. “Matt-y, st-oh-p!”

“If you yield.”

The smart comeback that laid on her tongue was cut off by a fit of laughter that came from a spot of discomfort. He knew exactly where to grab and it seemed unfair that he was so much larger, he could overpower her, and pulling out her super-strength didn’t seem fair. She couldn’t have, anyway, because the way he tickled her clouded her eyes with unshed tears.

“C’mon, yield,” he said, “and then I’ll stop.”

“Okay, OKAY!” Eliza hit his arm three times, giggling, and she couldn’t possibly form a coherent sentence. “Yield!”

As promised, he eased up his torture. She slacked in his arms.

“Wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“Asshole,” she bit back.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I am? Alright.”

“Matthew!” He singlehandedly tossed her over his shoulder. His hand collided with her backside. She was putty in his hands. He could throw her around however he wanted, she would let him.

She had never laughed this much or loud before. He carried her over to the now cushionless couch and laid her down. His lips found hers, not giving her a second to breathe. She kissed back almost instantly, tangling her hands in his hair and pulling him closer. They were panting and giggling into each other’s mouths and it was perfect. There was no other adjective to describe the situation, and she felt so happy and warm inside, she felt as if she were going to combust any second now.

Breaking the kiss, Matt smiled down at her. “You forgive me now?” he asked.

Eliza traced the crease between his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. “I suppose,” she said, her voice only a soft hum.

He bent down and pressed another kiss to her lips. It was short yet no less passionate. “We should get ready.”

“We should, but do we want to?”

“We don’t, but we have to.”

She sighed heavily, “True.”

“C’mon,” he patted her thigh, urging her to wrap them around his waist, “Let’s take a shower first. We’re already late, might as well make it worthwhile…”

The shower ran shorter than either of them would have liked, but they were already late and as two responsible adults they didn’t want to waste any more time. Although Matt considered it, Eliza had to physically force him away from prepping her neck with bruising kisses that were sure to have her on her knees in seconds. She exercised what little self-control she had left to steer off the inevitable. There was nothing she loved more than intimacy, but Foggy would murder them and she had already almost died too many times to count.

She exited the bathroom, fiddling with her earrings - the new beginning gave her a boost when it came to looking dashing anywhere she went, and she started to appreciate herself a lot more since then. The necklace matt got her dangled over her shirt, Natasha’s crystal underneath. It was in no way a display of favorites; Matt was the closest person to her heart and she wanted people to know that she was his and he was hers. In return, he wore his necklace just as obviously, though the crucifix would always be there. Even through all the pain, he kept his faith and she found that remarkable.

He stood in the kitchen, pouring some coffee into to-go cups that she had insisted that they should get. It was a wise choice. Upon hearing her enter, he smiled and shoved a plate over the counter. “Eat,” he said.

Eliza frowned, walking up to him. Avocado toast. Her heart swelled. At the rate, the happiness was growing she would need a new heart very soon. She couldn’t take this. It was sickeningly too much, but she loved every second of it. She loved being loved, seen, and appreciated. She loved the care she received and how important she felt in his presence. She would show him the same kind of affection until her very last breath, or she would try to, anyway. She still believed she didn’t deserve him.

She sat down at the edge of the table. He somehow always knew just the right amount of seasoning to use. She watched him while she ate. He cleaned up what he had made messy, put the little glass jars in the same spot he got them from, and wiped the kitchen counter. It was domestic, their new life together. She could get used to this.

“You’re staring,” Matt mused from the fridge. He pulled out a water bottle, then patted the top of the fridge for the orange capsule that was as much of a friend as it was an enemy. “Here, before you forget,” he said.

Eliza felt the three pills in the palm of her hand. He took care of her, he always did, but staring at the medication that kept the hormones in her brain in check reminded her why it took so long for her to be happy. She sabotaged herself. She was sick, after all. And she would always be sick, no matter what she did. The illness would always be there. Even with her life in order, the monster would continue lurking in the dark, waiting for a moment of weakness until it could attack.

He stroked over the crown of her head. “You okay?” he asked.

She looked into his eyes. “I’m okay,” she said.

“Take your pills, c’mon. They don’t mean anything. You’re here and you’re alive, nothing else matters. Everything that comes our way now, we can conquer together. You know that.”

The pills went down with a lot of water, but she took them and he kissed her forehead with a proud smile and said, “Good girl.”

She shivered, but she kept quiet, too trapped in her head to focus on what was happening around her.

Matt noticed the signs of dissociation and tugged at her hand instead. She yelped, blinking up at him in surprise. He pulled her toward him. “Stop thinking so much. Alexa-” the smart device made a melodic sound of agreement, “Play my Spotify playlist.”

“What’s that? Jazz or somethin’- woah!” Her joke was cut short. He twirled her around her axis before hugging his arm around her waist, and he cupped her cheek to lean down and kiss her.

“Wait for it,” he hummed against her lips.

The sound of the birds and the people outside was tuned out by the soft melody coming out of the speaker system.

“We’re gonna dance to keep your mind off of things and then we’re going to work, but only once I’m sure you’re okay.”

Eliza pouted as she looked into the eyes of the man she loved. Tears sparkled in her own and she wasn’t even sure why. She was overwhelmed by his love, mostly, but also by the emotions that she kept bottled up inside, the ones that appeared suddenly and nestled into her soul in seconds. He was right, she wasn’t okay. She wasn’t terrible, either, she was in a weird space in-between good and downright awful and she hated it there.

“How is dancing gonna help?” she asked, her voice wavering at the same time her breath did.

He kissed the tip of her nose instead of her lips. “Trust me,” said Matt.

She trusted him with her life, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to trust him on this. She didn’t feel like dancing. It seemed useless, anyway. But he insisted and with his hold so strong, she had no choice but to succumb to his unorthodox method.

“Sometimes you just gotta-” he pushed her back, “dance it out.”

She twirled, not even in control of her limbs when he pulled her back in, but this time with her back to his chest. And that was when she recognized the melody.

“Oh, you sly bastard.”

“Uh-huh.” The glitter in his eyes reminded her of the universe. “You remember?” He ran his fingers over her bare arm when she reached back to run her fingers through his hair and bring him closer in the process. “The night of the gala when we danced?” he said. “You remember the song?”

“Of course, I do,” she said. “I love that song. I just didn’t think… you put it on the top of your playlist?”

He shrugged. “Maybe?”

In seconds, she turned around and stood face-to-face with him again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself on her tip-toes to kiss him. Their forehead collided. “We’re not dancing,” she reminded him.

“Aren’t we?”

“No, we’re swaying. It’s just an excuse for people to-”

“-stand on the dancefloor and look like they belong,” he finished. His breath turned into a chuckle that fanned across her face. He smelled of coffee and mint and his cologne. “Yeah, I memorized that line in case I had to use it again,” he told her.

“Oh, you taking pointers from me now?”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Well, lucky for you that we’re not standing on a dancefloor, so the rule doesn’t apply.”

“You’re right, but we could pretend.”

At that moment it seemed as if he was staring into the depths of her soul.

A sigh left the depth of her chest. “We have to work,” she said, hesitant to admit it and with the utmost regret in her voice.

Matt chuckled. The usually so sweet sound was breathless, maybe a little knowing because yes, they had to go to work and her point was valid, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. The more she kept staring into his eyes, the more her self-control swindled and she fell into his arms. She didn’t care about the world. She was his to command now. Screw self-contro, she thought. She could spend the remaining two minutes of this song dancing with the love of her life, the Man whose initial she had hanging around her throat, and it would feel good because they deserved it. After the hell they went through, they deserved this. They deserved a fucking break.

He listened closely to her heartbeat. It dropped suddenly in determination and that was how he knew that she made her decision. His lip curled up into a smirk, it wasn’t naughty or anywhere near suggestive, it wa a kind one suggesting that he was proud of his accomplishment, so it was cocky nonetheless.

Eliza took his hand in hers, holding it tightly as the other arm wrapped around his shoulders instead. “Lead the way, counsellor,” she said.

The song was so familiar yet at the same time it sounded foreign. The day they first danced to it laid far in the past. Things had been different then. The night ended blissfully tangled between the sheets of his bed, but the cost they paid for falling so fast so hard for each other left them shattered in the end. They spent weeks picking up the pieces that were left behind of each other’s hearts. In the end, they found together. The universe brought them together without question as if it knew they were meant to be together, and it felt right at that moment, dancing with Matt in his living room while the world disappeared on the outside, but the path they had to take to get this far was now littered with corpses.

They both lost. They both suffered. In any other life, the likelihood of Matt and Eliza finding together after the hell they’d been through would have been nill. But in that universe, in their reality, they found back together. What they had was a cursed love that they were slowly starting to heal, and while she laid in his arms as he swayed them around the room to the song she had grown to title as one of their own, she realized that this was it. They passed the finish line. The worst was over. They weren’t cursed anymore; this right there was her and him healing each other in the only way they knew how - through unspoken words and meaningful touches. Their hearts spoke a language their mouths could not.

She was sure she found the man she would spend the rest of her life with and knowing he felt something resembling the same after he gave her that necklace was the thought that kept her alive and breathing. He sustained her, after all, and he had started doing so from the day they first met. It all became frighteningly clear to her, but the fear didn’t scare her. No, it excited her and it reminded her that this was real. She wasn’t dreaming. He was truly in her life and she was going to be okay; they both were.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

What was she thinking about? She was fighting off the cruel thoughts all by herself. She didn’t feel weak, she felt stronger than ever as she did it.

“You,” she answered without missing a beat. “It’s always you.”

His feet stopped and so did she, stumbling a little at his abrupt change of pace. Through thick lashes, she looked up at him. She expected him to say something or at least to receive a reaction of some kind, but it didn’t come. Instead, his eyes darted aimless around and his eyebrows furrowed. He was listening to her heart, the soft tilt of his head told her as much. He saw the world through his senses, she sometimes forgot that, and he was trying to paint a picture - what the picture was, she wasn’t sure.

“Matt-”

He cradled her head faster than she could speak. His lips pressed against her in a heated affair. She caught herself by holding onto his forearms. The kiss wasn’t forced, not at all, it was merely deeper than she was used to, and she swore she could taste the emotion on his tongue. That part of her powers was gone, but he poured so much of himself into the kiss, she could taste his soul.

He pulled away to let them both breathe. Their lips ghosted over each other, heartbeats aligned. Same situation, different setting.

“We should, um-” Eliza swallowed. She felt lightheaded. His body was the only thing keeping her upright. “Work,” she prompted.

A strand of hair flopped into his face. It was so damn familiar yet still so foreign. He was officially hers now, she didn’t have to pine and wait anymore. He wasn’t going anywhere.

That was the essential difference to that day at the gala. They were together now. The wait and heartbreak were over. There was nothing standing between them now, and that was why such a familiar situation felt more foreign than it felt like a real de ja vu.

Matt desperately kissed her cheek. “Work,” he agreed, though his voice rumbled like gravel. He didn’t want to work, he just wanted her.

His need for her, the constant yearning, he believed were starting to turn into an unhealthy obsession. But if it was so unhealthy, why did he feel happier than ever?

He turned away, ready to grab a tie from the bedroom and get the day over with, but once he took a step away, she reached for his arm. She pulled him back, smashing their lips together once more.

“Can we be late five more minutes?” she asked, assaulting his mouth with open kisses.

Her hair seemed like the best thing to grab in her moment of eagerness, so he tangled his hand in the freshly brushed strands, pulling at them. He panted heavily, the answer coming more choked up than he intended it to, “Yeah, sure,” he said.

The buckle of his belt hit the floor. Eliza dragged the zipper down, ruining his ironed shirt by crumbling it up until it was resting just above his hip.

“Good, ‘cause we’re gonna need them. Or you are, anyway.”

“Five minutes?” He breathed even heavier now, the sound of her knees hitting the wooden floor sounding louder in his eardrum. His hand was still in her hair and he followed her down; it slowly dawned on him what she was doing. The plea for her to stop got stuck in his throat. “Fuck!”

At first, she simply kissed the outline of his cock over his boxers and the friction along with the pure essence of her rushed the blood from his head where her tongue laid, and he was painfully hard again. As if he hadn’t just finished inside of her, she undressed him with precision. Her nails dug into his upper thighs and by God, he was this close to losing himself completely, he intertwined his fingers with hers s they traveled under his shirt and caressed his stomach. It was too much. She was already everywhere, the heat of her mouth would send him straight to hell and back and then to hell again until he was doomed and done for.

His eyes rolled back toward the ceiling. In his head, he prayed to God. The crucifix rested heavy around his neck but her name rested heavier. He prayed to God because the almighty father of all was no longer the most important character in his life. He questioned faith, but he never questioned her. She was his vice, she was his guardian angel and she would eventually corrupt him in a way that would asure him a place in hell, no matter how many times he asked God for penance, but hell with her sounded much better than heaven, and he figured he would have never ended up there anyway. They were both sinners, all things would fall into their rightful places in the end. Where she went, he would follow. Unhealthy obsession be damned, he was so infatuated, he would have burned the world down on the spot for her.

He had loved strongly before, then he had his heart broken by the woman he loved so desperately, and he had suffered alone for so long before she came along. He never thought a love this strong would be humany possible, but there were a lot of things he hadn’t fathomed possibly only a month ago. A love like that was the most plausible because it was real, she was right there and she was realer than anything else. God put her in his path for a reason and he would follow her until the end of the line.

She drove him higher and higher until he was dangling off the edge of the cliff, and when she pressed her hand down on his abdomen, squeezing his hand in the process, he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“I love you so much. Fuck!” The curses tumbled freely from his lips at the same time that he tumbled from the precipice. Her tongue along his shaft and the sensitive tip of his cock were more than enough.

Her five-minute estimate had not been far off. He came with the soft cry of her name, or had it been one of his many pet-names? She wasn’t sure. Her mind was just as fuzzy as his. Swallowing every last drop of cum he had to give her, she kept him tucked neatly inside her mouth. He rested perfectly in her throat. She exhaled through her nose - the sight before her was so damn pleasurable, she clenched her thighs. This would suffice for the rest of the day. The pornographic sounds and pcitures she had in her head were better than any real life nude picture she could have taken of him.

Matt pulled at her hair, forcing her off his cock with a whine that both came from her and from himself. He brushed her cheek, catching the small droplet of cum on the corner of her mouth and shoving it back inside. She took it wordlessly. The mascara she had applied was smudged all over her cheeks from the tears she had shed, but it was so worth it in the end.

He helped her to her feet, his eyes once again darting back and forth, searching for something he couldn’t see. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured.

“You are,” she told him. When he kissed her, he could taste himself in her saliva, and his moan made her whimper. “You’re perfect,” she said again.

The move she made to adjust his pants and get the belt back where it came from went unnoticed by him. He was somewhere between the sky and cloud nine, free-falling. Only when she gently kissed his neck did he snap back to reality.

“We have to go work.”

He chuckled. “Foggy is gonna kill us.”

“Eh, but it was worth it.” Eliza smoothed out his collar. “Get yourself a tie, I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick to, uh… take care of some things.”

His lips pursed into a pout. “Take care of some things?” he quoted.

“I have to pee.”

“Sure, that’s what it is.”

She slapped his chest, blushing at the sound of his clear laugh in her ear as he kissed her temple and sent her on her way.

“I could just take care of it, y’know,” Matt said behind her.

As hard as it was to pass down the opportunity, she raised her middle finger into the air. “Fuck off!” The bathroom door fell shut behind her, but she heard his laughter long after she was gone.

Today is never too late to be brandnew.

That much was true, at least.

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