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You stir from your sleep as you hear him stumble through the front door and slam his back against it once it´s shut. By his groan you realise it must have been a particularly rough night and it has you wide awake in an instant. So many times, you´ve witnessed it by now, you can picture exactly how he´s leaning there and taking a moment or two to breathe. Digest what he´s done, what´s been done to him. A flood of emotion that washes over him and threatens to drown him when the adrenaline of the fight is ebbing away. It´s like that every single night. You´re certain he´s bleeding and bite your lip. You hope he lets you take care of it later, once he´s had the time he typically needs after returning from the streets - a little break to shed the costume and become Matt again. The pain is not the worst part though, you know. It´s the guilt. The futile search for absolution for his actions, no matter how many times you assure him he´s doing the right thing.
A deep pained breath comes from the other room, and you ball your hands into fists. You hate to hear him suffer. As much as you long to rush out there and check on him though, you stay in the bedroom and wait until he´s ready. Matt doesn´t want your pity, but he loves you taking care of him. He can do it by himself all right, had to learn it before you were around. Only he much prefers your gentle hands over his own, calloused ones. And you do it gladly, always smiling away the pang that splits your stomach. The sight is never pretty, some nights worse than others, and it always hurts. The worry you swallow down, he can feel it. If you weren´t so proud of him, you´d tell him to stop, out of sheer selfishness. No one wants their man to be hurt like this. Not that it is your place, or that he would listen. So you´ve come to terms with the possibility of losing him every night, like it or not, and continue stitching and sticking and bandaging. It´s the price of loving the Daredevil.
Maybe Matt´s forgotten you´re staying over for the night. Or maybe he chooses suffering alone over interrupting your beauty sleep. No biggie for him. You scoot up to lean against the headboard, listening closely. Something hits the floor; his shoes, you guess by the double dull thud, followed by the rustling of fabric gliding over skin and hair, accompanied by a bit-back hiss. Then, a couple of pats of naked feet over the floor, and another thump, louder this time. Then silence. Until a low, repetitive murmur spurs you to get up.
He´s kneeling on the floor. On his broad back, the first thing you see as you stand in the door to the living room, flower fresh bruises. Together with the red welts, they look like an abstract painting across his skin. Matt´s head hangs, his shoulder twitch. You don´t understand what he´s mumbling, but you hear the subdued sobs in between.
Quietly, you walk over and stop next to him, and the sight nearly rips you apart inside. He´s taken a good beating this time, black, blue and red scattered over every exposed bit of skin. Bloody knuckles clasp the cross on his necklace. He´s deep in prayer while tears roll down his battered cheeks. At the risk of being disrespectful, you reach down and place two fingers under his stubbly chin. Slowly, he follows your lead and raises his head, his teary eyes pleading. Matt´s bloody lips tremble as your thumb strokes over the wet curve of his jaw.
“Shhh…” you soothe him though his pain tears you apart, loosening your hand from his face and stroking his sticky hair back over his head instead, running through it like a mother through her little boy´s. “Everything´s alright. I´m here.”
A loud sob shakes his whole frame and Matt tips forward, his head leaning into your lower abdomen, wet soaking though the thin fabric of your nightshirt. Large arms snake around you to grab you tight and press harder into you, while you keep stroking over his thick locks. He´s so beautiful like that, bloodied, hunched over and clinging to you, still, a strength behind his hold that could crush you if he let his desperation take over. So strong, but so soft at the same time. The excitement from this thought aims directly between your thighs and it feels like a fucking sacrilege. After a small kiss to your stomach, he breaks free and sniffles, looking up. Blood and tears are painted all over his face. God, he´s fucking perfect.
“What I´m doing… God will never forgive me.”
You let him unburden his heart without your typical protest. Though you care little about religion or faith, it doesn´t mean you don´t respect his views. Or will refuse help him ease his mind.
“I must repent. Or else He will never forgive me.” His voice is a whisper now. “Never love me.”
That last sentence hits. Your brows crease, your lips press thin.
“If God can´t see the good you´re doing, he´s blinder than you are.”
His eyes widen in shock, and lust prickles between your legs. How can you be so wet when he´s so troubled, so turned on when he´s so lost? Depravity lives in your soul, you reckon, one that only Matt knows how to bring out. Maybe you´re both depraved, and both lost. Maybe you were meant to find your way together.
“If he can´t love you for it, I will. You´re doing good. You are good, Matt.”
The words don´t fail to impact him. Oh, how pliant he suddenly is as your fingers rake through his hair, how his head moves along to chase the coveted touch, his eyes closed and a needy whine falling from his chapped lips. Until you grab a fistful and pull his head back.
Matt gasps.
“But if you really must repent, I´ll let you.”
It takes a moment for the coin to drop. To help him understand, you let go of him with a forceful push that almost has him tumble back but Matt´s heightened reflexes are quick to steady him. Thick fingers rested on your hips to tether him back to you, now fist the rims of your panties and pull until the fabric rips. There is a time for slowness and gentleness between you two, but it´s not tonight. The torn pieces land in a corner along with any reservation the man had, and you hear a hungry growl. Same hands now hook under you and still on his knees, he lifts you and moves you to the nearest wall until your back crashes into it and your feet land back on the floor. He forces your legs apart, throws one over his shoulder with disregard for any pain it causes him, and lunges forward to part your nether lips with his pointed tongue.
Your head tips back against the cold concrete wall and your eyes fall shut, your fingers again in his hair to encourage him. But words work wonders on him, help relieve his troubled mind, and so you speak again. Or rather just breathe your lines, because his luscious mouth is sufficient in taking away your ability to talk.
“That´s it baby. Repent… uh… on your knees… with your dutiful service.” Your hips gyrate in direction of his working mouth, the pressure of your cunt cutting off his air for a moment before you pull back again, and he gasps. “Worship with that beautiful mouth God gave you. Worship like the good boy you are.”
It seems like your words hit the mark, and Matt starts lapping over your folds and circling your engorged clit with an urgency you don´t know of him yet. He licks and sucks while his fingers spread you open, your juices covering half his pretty face. The other hand reaches under your shirt to catch your breasts but you don´t allow him all the pleasure at once. You grab his hand and lead it to your mouth instead, slowly sucking in his digits, one by one.
He whimpers between your legs. You chuckle.
“Yes, good boys get treats. But I decide.” You bite his finger but lick over it to sooth the pain. “And you´re doing so good. You´re so, so good.”
Once you let go of his hand, he starts palming the bulge in his black pants, and again, a moan ripples through your wetness. It´s a good thing you look down to watch this tantalising spectacle of his furious strokes over his confined, unsatisfied cock, because together with his relentless sucking over your sensitive nub, his desperate arousal sends you over the edge. You come hard, not bothering to suppress the outcry the sensation urges out of your chest, and press his face into your convulsing cunt. He stays as he knows he should, but once you let your orgasm simmer down and your hips retreat, he sucks in air and rests against you, panting blissfully.
“You did so well with worshipping, baby,” you praise, admiring his glazed face and swollen red lips with a soft smile. A finger glides across his mouth, tracing the smeared blood. “You were so pretty on your knees and the tears… they made me so hot.” A blush creeps over his cheeks, his ears burn. “Are you ready for your reward now?”
Almost zoned out he nods, breathlessly.
“You need your cock touched, hm? It´s throbbing and hurting and your balls are so full, isn´t that so?” Instead of answering, he only whines into your skin, subspace written all over his face. Never before have you seen a man this pretty.
Both your hands caress his face before you nudge him to move and sit back.
Of course, he obeys like the times before, and once he´s sitting, you climb and wrap your legs around him, and your hands find his magnificent pecs. The muscles feel taut under your squeeze, the little pink nips instantly peak from the twist of your fingers, and Matt wails. His erection throbs hotly against your stomach, a wet patch in his pants tingling on your heated skin. Oh, you can´t wait to have him inside you.
“Kiss me, my handsome, good boy.”
A kiss follows that knocks all air out of your lungs. You know he´s still horny and so needy to be touched, and yet, he kisses you so softly, so full of love, as if you already gave him everything he needed. Without much thought, your body adapts to the switch of position and your hips snap into motion to rut against him, igniting a fresh passion in Matt´s kisses. His tongue goes deeper, coated in your essence, and his lips suck and bite more aggressively the longer the kiss lasts. After your release, you should be more controlled and lead the situation but Matt´s so close to you now, his wonderful, muscular body at your very fingertips and so receptive that you can´t stop yourself from reaching down and giving him pleasure in return although you should let him wait some more. Beg, even. Your mouths stay married but your hands fumble to free his cock from his painfully tight enclosure, and once it leaps free, your kiss breaks for a moment, then you begin stroking him with your hand lubed with a good amount of spit. Matt nearly weeps as you pump him, his precum leaking over your fingers, his eyes pressed shut. He´s so in the moment, it´s breathtaking.
“I´ll fuck you now baby, okay?” You announce, raise your hips and run his thick head through your folds a couple of times to slick him properly. You sink down and have to hold your breath, every single time stunned by the pleasant stretch anew. It´ll never get old how good he feels inside of you, no matter the hole, you think to yourself, and smile into another commanding kiss. Both of you moan at the heady sensation that you allow to drag out a little longer before you start rolling your hips. Matt clings to you like a drowning man to buoy, and your legs close behind him as your pace quickens.
A wet trail glistens across the column of his neck from your tongue tasting over the salty skin, and Matt howls as you sink your teeth into the strained tendons. You´re adding to the pain he´s already received tonight, but yours comes with love, so much love. “You´re mine,” you claim before sucking a blue mark over the red crescent of your teeth, then you catch the small silver cross between your teeth, one of tonight´s main culprits. The smooth black leather around his neck, the tip resting right over his broad chest when he loses his shirt, it drives you mad with desire. It holds such meaning to him, it´s a holy symbol, but damn it, it turns you on, so much. Before, he´s held it to pray, now, you hold it hostage while you fuck him.
“Cum for me and…uh… I´ll… absolve you,” you demand with trouble finishing the sentence as you feel another orgasm spark in the base of your spine. The cross falls out of your mouth and back on his bruised chest, drenched in saliva. “Cum, ah, cum with me, Matt… aaaahhhh...!”
And that´s it. Only moments after you he erupts with a long, loud whimper cried into the crook of your neck, his whole body spasming and jerking under you, fingers digging into your ass cheeks almost as if he wanted to make sure not a single drop of the gift of his massive load was spilled elsewhere than inside you.
The way he shivers in your embrace and clings to you, the way he pants and finally grows soft inside you after earning his pleasure, it makes you proud like nothing else. He really is yours, as you are his. Always, under any circumstances, any persona he is; the lawyer, the vigilante or just your boyfriend. Tonight, Matt needed your strong guidance and doubt-razing praise, another he will need your absolute obedience and elevating submission. And yet another, he will only need your gentlest love and most tender touch. It is beautiful how fulfilling life is with him, knowing you both give what the other needs, and always in abundance.
You both still and cling to one another, your hearts slowly coming down together.
“Are you okay? I hope I wasn´t being too rough with you.” It’s more like you feel like what you said could have been silly; but it´s not silly if it works, right?
“I-I am. Holy shit, sweetheart,” he chuckles over your ear once he´s caught his breath again, “now that was something.” Matt wipes a sweaty strand from your face, brushing his nose against yours. Someone like him doesn´t allow himself to stay in subspace for too long, even if he knows he´s safe with you. You don´t mind his attempts at denying his submissive side, him poking a little fun at it although you made it clear you love it as much as his dominant one. One day, you swore to yourself, you´ll break him entirely, and he´s going to love it.
He dismisses your question with a small wave of his hand, its cuts now back in your focus. Even now that you see the whole extent of his injuries though, you find him more beautiful than ever. He´s been so brave for taking your fucking when he looked like that.
“Come on. Let´s hop in the shower, then I´ll have a look at those wounds. ´kay?”
“Hop? No way I´m gonna hop, sweetheart. But if you can wait, I´ll hobble after you.”
You both laugh.
But then, Matt´s expression shifts. He sucks in his lower lip in thought.
“What you said felt nice. Made me feel a little better about myself.”
Such an eloquent lawyer always, such a clumsy boyfriend, sometimes. Emotions were hard to express, you knew it.
“I needed to hear it. Damn it, I needed all of this.”
“I´m happy it did.” You smile and let him nestle into your palm when you cup his cheek to express your happiness and yes, gratitude for him.
But it´s getting cold now that your rush is gone, you´re sticky and his injuries need tending to. Water would be great too, or even a cold beer. Time to move. A bit ungainly, you climb out of his lap, your hands never losing contact. You try to pull him up with you, but Matt refuses, forces you to freeze and look at him, hand squeezing yours.
“Hey… what I wanted to say is… you… you make me feel like I´m a good person. That I´m worth saving. You – I – “ He´s so endearing. “You bring me closer to heaven than praying ever could.”
“That´s a sentence that would sound great in a memoir,” you joke and pull a little harder until he gives in and rises. “Never doubt you´re a good person, Matt. You deserve being saved. And loved. Just let me.”
Rising to your tiptoes, you sling your arms around him a last time before gently steering him towards the bathroom.
“I love you, you know that, sweetheart?”
“I do.”
You turn around and refuse to swallow that last playful jab.
“I love you too. Especially when you´re wearing that cross necklace. Jesus, it gets me going.”
Matt laughs out loud, immediately punished by a searing pain in his side.
“If that´s all it takes, I´ll be making sure to wear it more visibly for you from now on.”
As if you needed that, with a man like him, and a love like that.