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It was starting to scare you just how calm you were. You had heard all of the stories about the bride and groom getting cold feet on the wedding day, or having some type of breakdown over something or another, and you had fully expected to join the ranks of panicking brides. The acute absence of said anxiety was causing anxiety.
You didn’t care how cliché it sounded, you had been waiting for this day for a long time. It hadn’t been long after you met Matt—through your mutual friend Foggy Nelson—that you started dating, but things had developed slowly, slowly, slowly…and then all at once. Over the last five years Matt had stolen your heart, over and over again.
Despite how madly you had fallen for Matt, you hadn’t seen the proposal coming. It happened only a week after you had found out he was Daredevil. You had suspected it for some time, but then one night you decided to follow him out of his apartment. You waited on the opposite roof for hours, shivering from the cold, waiting to see him leaving the building, and you had followed him.
This had proven to be a bad idea. You lost him quickly, and when you turned to head back to your apartment you came face-to-face with a couple of rough looking guys, smirking as they imagined all the things they could do with a pretty little thing like you. Matt had saved you, of course, and before he could make a getaway you yanked his mask off, confirming your theory once and for all.
A week later he crashed through your apartment window, half-unconscious and covered in blood. Using a strange kind of panicked focus, you had cleaned him up, bandaged him, and then held him tightly to you as he faded in and out of consciousness.
When he came to, he reached up to gently touch your face, running his fingertips along your jawline, your cheekbones, down the bridge of your nose…drawing you out for his mind. And then he had muttered, “Marry me.” You had chocked it up to the blood loss making him delirious, but when he had recovered he asked you again, and you knew immediately that the answer was yes.
A smile spread across your face as you remembered, and your anxiety dripped away. When Karen came through the door to tell you it was time, you took a deep breath and turned to her with brightness. Today the Murdocks would become two.
Crumpled wrapping paper dotted the floor, plates with remnants of cake and finger food were abandoned on the coffee table and kitchen counter. Colorful streamers adorned the walls, and a large banner reading “Congratulations!!” was strung in front of the windows. All was silent, except for the sound of rain coming from outside. The street lamps were made fuzzy by the rainfall, looking more like stationary fairies than electric lights.
Now you knew that wild, insatiable sex on the wedding night was a myth—at the very least, it didn’t apply to you and Matt. Pieces of formal clothing dotted the floor like stepping stones leading to the bed. The only light came from a lamp outside the window, bathing your intertwined bodies in pale gold. Your rhythm matched the rain: Slow, deep, the sensation so intense that it had stopped being hot, skin slipping against skin like silk, callused hands in your hair, and soft lips capturing your own; now it was bare soul against naked soul. It was raw, but it was a paradox, an intense gentleness. You melded together, joining with him in a way that you had never felt before.
This is truly making love.
After, you laid as close together as possible, chests rising and falling in tandem. Matt’s forehead was pressed to yours and your noses touched, occasionally he would tilt his chin to kiss you, soft and sweet. One of your hands leisurely roamed his body, feeling his skin, scars and all, against your fingertips, running your fingers through his hair, and stroking his face and neck lightly with a couple of fingers.
You rubbed your nose against his affectionately. “I really should go clean up or we’ll have ants.”
Matt chuckled, the arm around your waist tightening. His hand was splayed against your back, but now he moved it up to grip your shoulder, hugging you tightly to him.
“Get ants or allow you to leave this bed?” he mused. “I’ll take my chances with the bugs.”
A grin spread across your face and you kissed him again—what was the record for number of kisses in a day? You maneuvered to wrap your legs around his waist rolling the two of you until you sat on top, straddling him, kiss unbroken.
When you did pull back you smiled fondly at the man below you. Your heart was bursting at the seams with love, so full you weren’t quite sure how to handle it. There was no such thing as getting enough of him.
So maybe the insatiable bit wasn’t lying.
He lifted his hand, running it up your arm, up your neck, brushing your hair back and cupping the side of your face.
“I wish I could see you,” he said quietly. His eyes were so vivid with emotion that for a moment it was like he could see. “I know you look more beautiful than ever, Mrs. Murdock.” He spoke the title almost shyly.
You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his. “You’re so smooth. Learn that from Foggy?”
He laughed aloud, the joyous sound bringing a wide smile to your face. Carefully, you moved to lay beside of him, your head against his shoulder and one leg intertwined with his. You pulled the comforter over you and settled into the warmth. You knew the burden on his shoulders was heavy, but you would always be there to help him carry it, and for whatever came afterwards. There was a new Murdock in town.
—End