The Invisible String: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil

22

"No," Annalise muttered, standing abruptly. "It's personal."

She marched into the dining room, tugged open the tall case, and—after wrestling with gears for a solid minute—disengaged the pendulum entirely. The silence that followed was immediate, blissful, a pressure lifted from the air.

"Better?" she asked, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Infinitely," Matt admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Karen blinked. "You just... broke a hundred-year-old clock."

"Fixed it," Annalise corrected, dropping back into the chair beside Matt. "Fixed it for my sanity."

Foggy raised his slice in salute. "To Annalise, the ghost-buster."

They clinked greasy pizza slices together like champagne flutes, laughter echoing through the dim apartment.

Later, once Karen and Foggy had fallen asleep on the sofa beneath a moth-eaten blanket, Annalise helped Matt into the bedroom. The solid wooden bed didn't make a sound as they sat down, and she sighed in relief.

"This is better. No squeaking, no ticking, no haunting," she murmured, pulling the blanket over them.

Matt chuckled softly, settling against the pillows. "Give it a week."

But when she curled against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart in the silence—no clock, no creaking iron—Annalise realized she didn't feel afraid at all.

Her touch lingered, feather-light, sliding from his jaw to the base of his throat, feeling the vibration of his breath against her palm. He closed his eyes, leaning into it, and when their lips met, it was slow—an exploration more than a collision.

The kiss deepened gradually, tasting of trust and hesitation, then growing bolder. His hand at her waist tightened almost imperceptibly, pulling her closer, until the blanket between them felt like too much distance. She shifted, the mattress dipping as her leg brushed against his. The contact drew a subtle hitch in his breath, just enough to make her smile against his mouth.

"You're supposed to be resting," she teased softly, though her voice wavered with the same pull she felt in her chest.

"I am," he murmured back, lips grazing hers. "With you."

It wasn't just words—it was the way his hands framed her, one pressing gently at the small of her back, the other brushing through her hair, careful and reverent. Every touch carried unspoken meaning: I need you. I trust you. I don't want this to stop.

Her laughter faded into a quiet sigh as she melted further into him. The air between them grew heavier, filled with warmth and breath and the kind of closeness that blurred the edges of restraint. His heartbeat thudded beneath her palm, faster now, responding to her nearness. And when her lips found his again, lingering and unhurried, neither of them pulled away.

The rest unfolded in whispers and touches, the tension melting into intimacy, the night pressing close around them.

His hands found their way to her hips, pulling her closer, and she moaned softly into his mouth. 

She broke the kiss, breathless, and leaned back against the wooden bed frame. She bit her lip, trying to contain her excitement. "Annalise," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "What are you doing to me?" She smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "What are you doing to me?" she retorted, her voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, she straddled him, feeling the heat between her thighs as she sat down on his lap. His hands found their way to her breasts, and she gasped as his fingers brushed against her nipples through her shirt.

 "Matt," she moaned, arching her back. "Please." 

He pulled her shirt other head, revealing her lacy black bra. His hands traced the outline of her breasts, and she could feel the heat of his touch on her skin. 

She shivered, unable to contain herself any longer. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her neck. 

His hands slid down her sides, tracing the curve of her hips. She gasped, feeling the fire spread between them. His mouth trailed kisses down her chest, stopping at the hem of her shirt. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. 

"May I?" he asked, his voice rough. She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. As Annalise watched, Matt's hands moved to the waistline of her track pants, his eyes never leaving hers. She bit her lip, anticipation coursing through her veins. He slid the button open slowly, then tugged at the zipper, revealing the black lace of her panties. His fingers brushed against her skin, tracing the outline of her pussy before dipping inside. She gasped, arching her back as he found her clit, circling it gently with his thumb.

His mouth moved up her stomach, kissing and nipping at her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She couldn't believe how much she wanted this, how much she needed him. His tongue traced the line of her belly button, teasing her as he continued to circle her clit. She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand.

Finally, he pulled her panties down, his eyes never leaving hers. She gasped as he took her clit into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder, his tongue dancing against her sensitive flesh. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pushed herself further into his mouth.is other hand found its way between her legs, slipping inside her, finding her wetness. He groaned, his fingers sliding in and out of her as he continued to tease her clit with his tongue. She couldn't hold back any longer. Her orgasm crashed over her, waves of pleasure washing over her body. She cried out his name, her legs shaking as she came undone in his arms.

When she could finally speak, she looked down at him, her eyes filled with love and desire. "Matt," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "That was... incredible."

He looked up at her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You taste amazing," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He pulled her down onto his lap, their bodies pressed tightly together. She felt his hardness against her thigh, "Want me to take care of this for you?" 

Matt didn't answer right away. Instead, he shook his head slowly, lips tugging into a soft smile. His hand slid up her arm, over her shoulder, until his fingertips brushed along her jaw.

"No," he said, voice low and steady. "That's not what I want right now."

She blinked, surprised, but before she could protest, his expression deepened into something that made her chest ache. His head tilted just slightly, as if he was listening to a song only he could hear.

"I just... want to take this in," he murmured. His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, lingering there. "The way your heartbeat skips when you're close to me. The warmth of your skin. The way your breath catches in your throat before you even realize it. I've been wanting to... to just feel all of that for so long."

Her throat tightened, a rush of emotion hitting her harder than she expected.

"Matt..." she whispered, unsure what else to say.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his smile turning almost boyish now, though the raw honesty never left his tone. "So no, don't worry about me. Tonight, I just wanted this—you. That's more than enough."

Her chest fluttered, a strange mix of tenderness and desire, and she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her, soft and shaky. "You're... unfairly good at this, you know."

Matt's grin widened, his arms tightening around her as he pulled her in against him. He settled them both down into the pillows, keeping her close until their breathing matched, the words between them lingering even as they drifted into sleep.