simon says.
daredevil. elektra natchios/matt murdock. 841 words. set during college.
originally posted here.
summary: He’s having trouble remembering the last time he thought of something besides Elektra.
Matt hasn’t been back to his dorm in a week. He’s skipped half his classes. He’s ignoring it when Foggy pages him. He’s spending all his time in Elektra’s glossy high-rise, on his back in red silk sheets.
It’s Thursday. Matt's missing Evidence but he’s unbothered, draped lengthwise across Elektra’s bed. It’s raining, drops hitting the windows hard, and she put on music, but if Matt pushes past it he can hear her moving around the apartment: getting water, looking for snacks, trailing sheets behind her as she pads around barefoot. His skin seems to tingle waiting for her to return, still feeling the phantom sweep of her hair against his collarbone.
He stretches his arms above his head until his hands hang over the edge and it’s his seeking fingers that meet Elektra first, fingertips brushing her legs. “Open,” Elektra instructs and Matt opens his mouth in time for Elektra to put a strawberry in it, his hands still feeling their way up her thighs. Elektra reaches down to stroke his throat as he swallows.
“Sweet,” he says. Elektra bends to kiss him upside-down, his hands skating up her torso. “Sweeter.”
“I like you best like this, I think,” she muses. She smoothes her hand over his body, throat to hip, then walks her fingers back up.
“Exhausted?” Matt wonders. “Depleted of strength and electrolytes?”
She laughs a little and bites him, almost too hard to be playful, on the shoulder. “Something like that. I think I’ll keep you like a little pet, to entertain me and keep me company after a long day’s work.”
“Will you give me a collar?”
“Of course. How else would you be trained?”
“I think I’d be lonely waiting for you all day.”
“Good,” Elektra says. “That’s a good boy.”
Matt is already grinning, getting hard too under the steady stroke of Elektra’s hands over his chest and stomach, the scrape of her short filed nails.
“Don’t you want to know what else I brought for you? Can you tell?”
Matt can, but the question prickles just a little; Elektra tests him like that sometimes and it unsettles him that she knows, that anyone does. She has the bowl of strawberries, water in plastic bottles he can smell and will be able to taste, bread that’s a little stale, and a tin of almonds coated in cocoa powder. There’s already wine on the side table, a bottle they’ve passed back and forth, shared mouth to mouth, spilled on the sheets. He knows all of this, but he says, “Why don’t you tell me?”
Elektra gives a little murmuring hum that he can’t decipher and shows him instead, bite by bite. She moves her hands over his body with a sense of ownership and kisses his face, her hair falling down to brush his cheeks. Her heart is steady, always, but Matt can feel his own getting faster. He’s having trouble remembering the last time he thought of something besides Elektra.
“Are you restored, Matthew?” she teases. “Has your stamina returned to you?”
“Never left,” Matt replies cheekily just to feel Elektra’s teeth on him again, tugging at his lip. She licks at his mouth, which Matt opens for her, whenever she wants, both of them tasting strawberries and almonds and chocolate, indulgent and sweet. That’s how Elektra is, richness bursting across his tongue, the same whether he’s kissing her or tasting her, nudging her thighs open to put his mouth between her legs. Rich but spicy, sharp, burnt; danger he can sense like hearing someone’s heartbeat.
“I can see that,” Elektra says finally, once she’s stopped kissing him senseless, and, “Don’t move.”
She rises but only so she can come around and climb into his lap, naked, her body tightly wired, dancer’s legs and muscled arms, all strength. Their hands slide together, fingers weaving, and Elektra presses down against him until Matt gasps. “What shall I do with you, hmm?”
“I have a few suggestions,” Matt says, breathless, calling on all his training to keep himself still, still, still because Elektra told him to.
“We’re not taking suggestions,” Elektra sounds short on air herself, grinding hard against Matt, “right now.” Then, suddenly, she stops, straightening so she hovers over Matt on her knees, making no contact. “Wriggle down.”
Matt gets to it eagerly, both of them laughing slightly when Elektra almost tips over, but he catches her by the hips. As soon as she’s close enough Matt lifts up, neck straining, tongue pressing soft against her pussy. Elektra is hot against his mouth, slick and swollen from earlier when they fucked in this bed. She was on top then too.
The wind outside echoes their breathing, the rapid rush of hers and his quick inhales. All he can smell is her. He can’t push past it, he can’t find anything else to orientate himself; they could get robbed right now and Matt would never see it coming. It’s just Elektra: her heartbeat, her sweat, her perfume, her taste, her skin. It’s all just Elektra.
daredevil. elektra natchios/matt murdock. 841 words. set during college.
originally posted here.
summary: He’s having trouble remembering the last time he thought of something besides Elektra.
Matt hasn’t been back to his dorm in a week. He’s skipped half his classes. He’s ignoring it when Foggy pages him. He’s spending all his time in Elektra’s glossy high-rise, on his back in red silk sheets.
It’s Thursday. Matt's missing Evidence but he’s unbothered, draped lengthwise across Elektra’s bed. It’s raining, drops hitting the windows hard, and she put on music, but if Matt pushes past it he can hear her moving around the apartment: getting water, looking for snacks, trailing sheets behind her as she pads around barefoot. His skin seems to tingle waiting for her to return, still feeling the phantom sweep of her hair against his collarbone.
He stretches his arms above his head until his hands hang over the edge and it’s his seeking fingers that meet Elektra first, fingertips brushing her legs. “Open,” Elektra instructs and Matt opens his mouth in time for Elektra to put a strawberry in it, his hands still feeling their way up her thighs. Elektra reaches down to stroke his throat as he swallows.
“Sweet,” he says. Elektra bends to kiss him upside-down, his hands skating up her torso. “Sweeter.”
“I like you best like this, I think,” she muses. She smoothes her hand over his body, throat to hip, then walks her fingers back up.
“Exhausted?” Matt wonders. “Depleted of strength and electrolytes?”
She laughs a little and bites him, almost too hard to be playful, on the shoulder. “Something like that. I think I’ll keep you like a little pet, to entertain me and keep me company after a long day’s work.”
“Will you give me a collar?”
“Of course. How else would you be trained?”
“I think I’d be lonely waiting for you all day.”
“Good,” Elektra says. “That’s a good boy.”
Matt is already grinning, getting hard too under the steady stroke of Elektra’s hands over his chest and stomach, the scrape of her short filed nails.
“Don’t you want to know what else I brought for you? Can you tell?”
Matt can, but the question prickles just a little; Elektra tests him like that sometimes and it unsettles him that she knows, that anyone does. She has the bowl of strawberries, water in plastic bottles he can smell and will be able to taste, bread that’s a little stale, and a tin of almonds coated in cocoa powder. There’s already wine on the side table, a bottle they’ve passed back and forth, shared mouth to mouth, spilled on the sheets. He knows all of this, but he says, “Why don’t you tell me?”
Elektra gives a little murmuring hum that he can’t decipher and shows him instead, bite by bite. She moves her hands over his body with a sense of ownership and kisses his face, her hair falling down to brush his cheeks. Her heart is steady, always, but Matt can feel his own getting faster. He’s having trouble remembering the last time he thought of something besides Elektra.
“Are you restored, Matthew?” she teases. “Has your stamina returned to you?”
“Never left,” Matt replies cheekily just to feel Elektra’s teeth on him again, tugging at his lip. She licks at his mouth, which Matt opens for her, whenever she wants, both of them tasting strawberries and almonds and chocolate, indulgent and sweet. That’s how Elektra is, richness bursting across his tongue, the same whether he’s kissing her or tasting her, nudging her thighs open to put his mouth between her legs. Rich but spicy, sharp, burnt; danger he can sense like hearing someone’s heartbeat.
“I can see that,” Elektra says finally, once she’s stopped kissing him senseless, and, “Don’t move.”
She rises but only so she can come around and climb into his lap, naked, her body tightly wired, dancer’s legs and muscled arms, all strength. Their hands slide together, fingers weaving, and Elektra presses down against him until Matt gasps. “What shall I do with you, hmm?”
“I have a few suggestions,” Matt says, breathless, calling on all his training to keep himself still, still, still because Elektra told him to.
“We’re not taking suggestions,” Elektra sounds short on air herself, grinding hard against Matt, “right now.” Then, suddenly, she stops, straightening so she hovers over Matt on her knees, making no contact. “Wriggle down.”
Matt gets to it eagerly, both of them laughing slightly when Elektra almost tips over, but he catches her by the hips. As soon as she’s close enough Matt lifts up, neck straining, tongue pressing soft against her pussy. Elektra is hot against his mouth, slick and swollen from earlier when they fucked in this bed. She was on top then too.
The wind outside echoes their breathing, the rapid rush of hers and his quick inhales. All he can smell is her. He can’t push past it, he can’t find anything else to orientate himself; they could get robbed right now and Matt would never see it coming. It’s just Elektra: her heartbeat, her sweat, her perfume, her taste, her skin. It’s all just Elektra.