Chapter Text
Karen’s drink was really good.
She didn’t even know exactly what it was, but it was tasty. Refreshing. She sipped it again, eying Matt across the table as he did the same.
Josie had delivered two glasses of beer to them not long before. “Courtesy of that weirdo,” she said, gesturing behind her, back toward the bar. Karen looked and didn’t see anyone in particular, but when she scanned the room, she noticed the back of Foggy’s head as he walked toward the door.
Ah, a parting gift. Foggy was the best, even if Josie gave him a hard time. Though to be honest, Karen was more than a little happy that he was taking off early and leaving her alone with Matt.
Matt was farther into his drink now than she was. He shifted in his seat, fiddling with a napkin and smiling in a way that made her flush nervously. Excitedly.
“I’ll have to ask Josie which brand this is. It’s delicious,” Karen said, recognizing the giddy edge to her voice but unable to tamp it down. “Foggy was really sweet to send it over. Too bad he had to go.”
“I’m glad he left,” Matt said. Then an expression of horror passed over his face. "Uh, he said—he said he was tired, and it’s good for him to take care of himself."
"Right." Karen grinned. Maybe Matt was interested in some alone time, too. After all these weeks and months of working together again, of becoming friends again, maybe it wasn’t too much to hope...
Rebuilding what they had, both personally and professionally, had been even more daunting than it seemed on that sunshiny day when Foggy scribbled their future on a napkin. They’d all had to sacrifice to get Nelson, Murdock & Page up and running, and the three of them had probably broken the Guinness world record for bickering, if one had previously existed. But starting over, building up their foundation on more solid ground, had paid off. They worked together more smoothly now than they ever did in the old days. They understood each other in ways they couldn’t before — Matt’s silences, and Foggy’s aggressive cheerfulness, and Karen’s own tendency to disappear. Instead of just noticing when things were going wrong, now they actually talked about it.
Usually.
Well, more than they used to.
“You know, Foggy has seemed tired lately,” Karen said as the thought hit her.
“I think it’s the wedding planning. Marci is a stickler for the details.”
“That I can believe.” Karen shook her head. “When I think back to my first impression of Marci, and how Foggy responded, I never would have expected they’d get married. But I guess there was always...fire there. Even when things were rocky.”
“He really loves her.” Matt’s voice was low and achingly sincere.
“Yeah,” Karen agreed softly. “It’s nice. To have someone to go home to.”
The air between them stretched thin. There were definitely some things she and Matt still didn’t talk about. Like why exactly they kept getting flustered when they were alone together, and whether they were ever going to do anything about it.
Karen rushed to take another gulp of her drink, and she found herself distracted anew by its citrusy coolness. She would have to start buying it to have on hand at home. She generally liked beer, but this was the first one she could honestly say she loved.
Given how fast Matt was draining his glass, it seemed safe to say he was enjoying it too. Her eyes caught and lingered on the bob of his throat, on the stubbled line of his jaw, on the curve of his hand. The way his nimble fingers flexed around the glass’s contours made her suddenly very aware of how much she wanted to switch places with that drink. His hands always felt so good on her — even a casual caress was enough to set her nerve endings on fire. The slightest brush of his skin, and it was like she was the one with supersenses.
Matt's drink was gone now, his empty glass returning to the table with a clink. He licked a fleck of foam from his lips. And oh, his lips. So full, so sinful. So easy to imagine all over her body.
God. She grabbed her drink and polished it off, too, but it wasn’t enough to quench her...well, thirst. Once she opened that door, there was no closing it, and her head flooded rapidly with all kinds of dangerously erotic thoughts. If he only knew what she was thinking...
“I really want to go home with you tonight,” she sighed, and then she felt her own jaw drop. How the hell had that come out? She had just finished her second beer. She was nowhere near drunk enough for humiliating confessions.
She blushed hotly, hoping that the man with the incredibly sensitive hearing somehow hadn't heard her, but no such luck. Matt's face registered a shocked amusement, but it quickly faded into something more serious. "You have no idea how much I want that too," he said, and her pulse jumped.
His fingers covered hers on the table top, and tingles ran all the way up her arm. "Matt?" she whispered. The table was small, and there wasn't much space between them, and Karen swore it was gravity that pulled their mouths together.
And what had seemed so damn hard, so complicated, for so long — it was easy. His lips were soft on hers at first, traveling from corner to corner, trading off kisses for smiles and shared breaths. She cupped his face with her hand to draw him closer, their mouths opening to each other, and she welcomed in the taste of him, familiar and yet so new. She could drown in him.
"Hey, I know your chaperone left, but this is still a respectable joint," Josie barked behind them.
"Could've fooled me," Karen said, dragging her eyes open and her lips away from Matt's.
"OK, you're right, that's a stretch." A smile tugged at the corners of Josie’s lips, and her eyes sparkled mischievously. "But still — get a room, kids."
"Oh, hey, Josie," Karen called before she could walk away. "What kind of beer was it that Foggy ordered?”
Josie's eyebrows knitted together. "Nelson? I don’t remember—" But someone else bellowed her name and she turned away.
Karen still wanted that name, but she didn’t have time to pursue it further. An eager Matt was already urging her toward the door.
The cooler air outside was welcome against Karen’s too-warm skin, and her hand fit just right tucked into Matt’s.
“My place?” he asked.
“If that’s OK.” And apparently she wasn’t done being overly honest, because she immediately added, “I feel safe there. With you.”
“Karen.” The rumbling roughness of his voice made her breath hitch. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
Maybe this honesty thing wasn’t so bad.
They walked quickly, stealing kisses on the street corners, until they spilled through his door, breathless and laughing. Karen's stomach fluttered as Matt pulled her close, his lips on hers, his hands running down her back to her waist and lower. She wound her arms around his neck, stretching her body over the hard muscles under his shirt, knowing they were moving fast and not caring. Her head tilted to the side as his mouth opened on her neck, hungry and hot. She wanted nothing more than to be devoured.
He sucked her skin lightly and she moaned, rocking her hips forward, which had the effect of pushing him back into the wall. His thigh insinuated itself between hers and she moved shamelessly until they were slotted together the way she craved, and she felt him swelling against his fly.
"Should we talk?" Matt asked hoarsely. "Part of me is saying that we should. But the other part says that you feel incredible and you smell like heaven and I can’t really think straight."
One of his hands roamed back up her body to cup her breast and she pressed herself into him, her lips seeking his, her tongue teasing into his mouth. She thought that was probably enough of an answer, but she said it out loud anyway.
"If I’m honest" — and for some reason she felt like she had to be — "I’ve been dying to know what this would be like for years, and I really don’t want to stop."
"And if we talk I might ruin it," Matt said wryly, his hand rubbing over her back.
Karen laughed. "You said it, not me." She kissed his nose playfully, then found his lips again, not letting up until he was gasping. "We can talk later. Right now, I want you to touch me."
"I never want to stop touching you."
And then they were on an inevitable course to Matt’s bedroom, their mouths meeting and parting and meeting again, their hands exploring, their clothes melting away in a messy trail.
By the time they reached Matt’s bed, Karen’s eyes were feasting on him, the way she’d longed to see him, wearing only the reddish-purple light that filtered through the apartment from the billboard. He was magnificent — his skin scarred but lustrous, his muscles long and lean, his arousal leaving no doubt that he was as aching and needy as she was.
"Wow. You're....impressive." Her cheeks heated up again, this time to pure flame, but she reached out to touch him anyway. She danced her fingertips down his chest, over the dips and swells of his abs. "I can't believe it’s taken me this long to get you naked."
"Too long.” Matt's voice filled with a kind of fascination as he mapped the contours of her own bare body, as he pressed her backward onto the bed. “I want to know all of you. How you feel. How you taste.”
And taste her he did, thoroughly, his soft lips and wet tongue trailing down her throat, enveloping her nipples, sliding over her torso and thighs, and finally, finally, as she gasped and squirmed and yearned, settling between them.
"Yes,” she sighed as he licked into her wetness, his tongue seeking out her most sensitive places. “You owe me about a million orgasms." She clapped her hand over her mouth, surprised at herself, but counting back through everything that had happened since that night on her front stoop, she couldn’t really find fault with her estimate.
"All right,” Matt said, his breath tickling her intimately. “Would you like them all now, or would you prefer to spread them out?"
She grinned. "Definitely some now. More later."
"Done."
He applied himself with a skill that surpassed even her (admittedly high) expectations, and it was all she could do to hold herself together as he licked and sucked, and stroked into her with his fingers. His name fell like a waterfall from her lips — Matt Matt Matt — until it was lost in a tense and trembling silence as she teetered open-mouthed on the edge. And then there were stars behind her eyes and she was flying and he wasn’t stopping, seeming only greedier for her, and she twisted the silk sheets in her fists as she found another, a deeper and more fiery, release.
“Fuck,” she said, when she could speak again. “That was... there are no words for what that was...”
He was hovering over her now, looking like he was fighting something, looking like he might burst.
"Karen," he gasped out, "I’m completely in love with you.”
She drew her breath in sharply, reaching for him, needing him close. "Dammit,” she whispered as she circled her arms around his shoulders, knowing what was about to come out of her mouth. “I love you, too.” She ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at the fact that she was allowed to do this, allowed to touch him, that they were finally here together. She loved him so much. But she couldn’t stop the words that spilled out next. “But sometimes I almost hate you."
He chuckled softly. "I know.” He nuzzled her hair, breathing her in. “I never hate you. But I am...afraid of you. Of this, and how—how much it means."
She tightened her arms around him, pressing reassuring kisses to his jaw, his neck. His skin was warm and salty and wonderful. “I’m thinking I might stop hating you if we did this more often."
He laughed and brushed her lips lightly with his own. "You know what I think about a lot? Sleeping with you,” he murmured. “Just...sleeping. I think maybe I could really sleep again, if I could hold you and know you were safe.”
"Matt...” She kissed him deeply then, kissed him with the pent-up passion of years. He tasted like her. He was in love with her. And she needed him with every cell of her body.
“You don’t just want to sleep now, do you?” she asked, running her palm down the long plane of his back.
“No,” he said intently. “I want to make love to you.”
She didn’t think it was possible to desire him more, but a fresh rush of heat blossomed between her legs, and he reached over to grasp a condom from his bedside table. And just a few moments later, she was cupping the hard length of him and guiding him inside her.
He slid in slowly, stretching her, filling her, inch by inch by inch, until there was no getting any closer. She bit her lip at the sensation and he groaned against her neck.
“Jesus,” he said, sounding exquisitely tortured.
“You OK?”
“Yeah... it’s just... you overwhelm me.”
She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I feel the same way.”
He rocked gently then, and she moved her hips to meet him, closing her eyes at the thrill of friction.
“Too bad I have to start thinking about the Mets now.”
“Baseball stats? Isn’t that a little cliche?” she responded before she could stop herself.
“It’s either that or reciting Hail Marys. And that kills the mood a little too much.”
She smiled, her heart squeezing. “Hey, let’s just...” She stilled him, wrapping him up completely with her arms and legs. “Take it slow.”
But it quickly became obvious that that was impossible. The need was burning stronger than both of them. “Karen, I have to...” Matt whispered, starting to move again, the slide of him lighting up her whole body.
“Don’t worry about the Mets, OK?” she whispered back. “You already gave me the best orgasms of my life. I just want you to feel good, too.”
Her words had their intended effect, and he built up the rhythm of their bodies until speech was beyond her and the only sounds she could make were incoherent murmurs of encouragement. She kept her eyes on him, watching him above her, drinking in the unrestrained pleasure on his beautiful features. His open mouth, his red lips, his eyes squeezed shut. He was breathtaking.
And she didn’t expect it, because it had never happened quite this way before, but the feel of him moving inside her and the ecstasy painted on his face, it was enough. Just as he reached the peak, she was overcome by it, crying out as she was catapulted once again into bliss.