I Just Need You

Late in the evening the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page is empty, save for one office who's lamp is only ever lit in case you happen to check in on your way home from your own job. Sure enough, sitting in the dim light emitting from the small lamp on the desk is a burned out and exhausted Matt Murdock.

His hair is disheveled from the many times his hands have found themselves running through it over the course of the evening. His slate grey tie is pulled slightly loose away from his collar and lays crooked against his untouched white button up. His ruby tinted glasses sat perched on the bridge of his nose, almost entirely forgotten about as his hands trailed lightly across the paperwork in front of him. The room was silent aside from the scratching of his calloused fingertips across the raised bits of paper.

Matt lifts his head as he hears you walk into the reception for the office, a little startled that he didn't notice earlier.

A soft smile twitches across his face as he hears the cadence of your heels across the floor seconds before you press your lips against his hair from behind his desk chair.

"Long night, sweetheart?" Your voice is soothing and quiet.

"Rough couple of weeks. That obvious?" Matt sighs the words out in a quiet rumble, his hands finally pausing from running across the braille.

You gently run your hands across his shoulders before working your thumbs into the tense muscles at the base of his neck. "Yeah, it's that obvious."

You run your fingertips up the back of his neck and feel his skin prickle into goosebumps. You work your fingers into his hair and scratch your nails firmly across his scalp in slow circles.

His breath falls from his lips in a huff before turning into a quiet groan. You can feel Matt's muscles release as you move your hands repeatedly from his shoulders to the crown of his head and back down, your nails making soft red lines on his skin.

"Your hands are magic, you know that?" His voice is strained and tired.

A smirk plays across your lips as you chuckle. You continue to claw your manicured nails through his hair, watching his head fall back against you. "So you keep telling me."

After a few minutes of silence and letting you massage his scalp, he spins his chair to face you, looking up at you and feigning eye contact as best he can. The effect is appreciated, though unnecessary.

He lifts out of his chair, almost pressing against you as he stands. A small flash of perfectly white teeth is followed by his hand gently cupping your cheek. "Is it okay if I return the favor?"

You lean your cheek in against the hand he placed on your face with a nod. "Of course. Why are you asking?"

Silently, his head tilts to the side slightly as his finger tips brush the shell of your ear. The gentle, almost too light to feel, contact against your ear triggers a shiver to roll down your spine. His fingers continue to dance down along your jaw. His smile widens when he catches your heart starting to race and your breath hitch every so slightly.

The path of his hands follows your chin and then lifts to trace your lips as if he is reading your face the same way he was reading the braille of his reports. He pauses with his thumb in the center of your bottom lip. "Tell me if it's too much."

You let out a raspy groan as he adds his other hand to the other side of your face, mirroring the soft drags of calloused fingers across your skin. He moves back to your ears and follows the exact same trail as earlier, slightly firmer, with both hands as if trying to memorize your face. You lean into his hands, registering that he spoke, but not hearing what he said. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean back against the wall, your knees going weak. Your hands fall to his waist to balance yourself and they flex against his shirt, settling right above his belt.