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Frank wakes as he hears the clinking sound.
Before his eyes are fully open, he grabs for his Beretta, tucked beneath his waistband on his back, and the safety unclicks before the door of the apartment opens, ready to react.
Key rings fall down, clanging in the stillness, then a faint laughter.
Matt.
He walks around the corner as the door swing shut, smiling widely, steps staggered.
"Frank!", he says, voice high pitched and lively. He grabs for the wall, body bend like it's hard to stand. "Yes, you're here--"
Frank loosens the grip on his weapon, and lets his hand slide back onto the armrest. The distant sense of danger still lingers on his shoulders. You're a fool, Frank.
Matt walks to the kitchen, reeling around the table. Water swooshes in the sink, then fills a glass, splashing over his hands. He rummages through the cupboards and comes to him, a tumbler of brown liquid in his hand, grinning beatifically. He holds the glass in his direction.
"I let you wait." he says and tilts his head, reddish hair falling to the side, pink-orange shadows dancing across his face from the billboard.
Frank's eyebrows furrow. "You're drunk." he states, unimpressed.
"Yes--" Matt breathes, happy with himself. "You know-- we did it. You remember the case--" He steps closer, his knees bumping against Frank's. "--I've told you about--?"
He is glowing, beaming at him. He looks stunning.
Frank thinks about it, remembers the morning, remembers the last evening, remembers the morning before. Remembers the days before that. Endless chattering about paragraphs and articles and clauses. He inhales deeply. Fucking lawyer business.
"Yeah, I know.", he answers.
"We did it." Matt says, pleased with himself.
"Good." Frank grabs the glass out of Matt's wavering hand.
"Good. Absolutely. Outstanding, even. Satisfactory," Matt smiles contentedly. He strolls around, balancing on his heels as he touches the glass of the huge windows next to the chair. "Did you notice there's a thunderstorm coming?"
The window swings open with a soft creak. Chilly air floods the summer-heated room in an instant.
"Listen." Matt whispers, long fingers curling around the window frame.
And Frank hears it. A distant rumbling. A dark sound breaching his ears. A crack somewhere far in the distance.
Matt comes back to him, close, standing between his legs, knees brushing against him. He's smiling again, mischievously now.
"I'm sorry.", he says as he slowly sinks down to his knees. "I know, you waited."
Frank did. He lets out a faint grunt to show his displeasure. Patience is a necessity when it comes to Matt. Something is off with the devil, and also with Matt's ability to manage his daily life. Hell's Kitchen keeps him busy. Night and Day. His lateness, his sleep issues? Just symptoms. It's a constant struggle for him to stay a hand's breadth above the filth of the Kitchen. And he's nowhere close keeping his life balanced. Well, it must be the reason they complement each other. Because Frank is just the same.
But Frank knows too, this evening wasn't about that.
"We did celebrate--" Matt's hand touches Frank's knee, "Karen-- and Foggy-- and me." His fingers grasp around the kneecap, thumb circling on the inner thigh.
And that's a nice thing for Matt. Valuable. Friends. Having a good time. He earned it. And maybe, Frank thinks, he should visit Curtis again. And drive by David's house. Just to take a look.
"Thank you for waitin'", Matt smiles, the honesty in his voice soft.
Frank remembers what it's like to have someone waiting for you. The warmth of belonging. The idea of a home. He still can recall it. Is he already that someone for Matt?
"You know--" Matt says with a low voice, sliding his hand up on Frank's thigh over the stiff jeans fabric. “I could --make it right again."
Frank can't hide a low chuckle and considers him, taking a sip. Matt sure is worth the wait.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Matt breathes, as his hand touches the bulge in Frank's trousers with his fingerpads. The smile on his lips widens.
"Ah," Frank says, feigning astonishment.
"Yes, there," Matt answers, almost innocent. "Like this." And he clasps Frank's dick through the fabric, fingers digging in.
"This like suck my dick?"
"Yes--" Matt hisses, bending lower. "You'd like me to?"
He squeezes his fingers, grinning up at Frank, teeth visible in a beautiful naughty smile.
"Yeah--" Frank answers raspy, his head sinking down on his propped up fist, a grin tugging at his mouth. "I'd appreciate that."
Matt laughs lightly. "I bet you do."
His hot hand grabs a hold, making Frank inhale deeply. Matt's other hand strokes upward with pressure and fumbles with the belt. His fingers are clumsy as he works at the metal. Frank's hand comes to help, unbuckling it, brushing against Matt's fingers. He strokes them softly with his index finger, and their hands linger in a caress, feeling the other’s warmth in a fleeting moment. It’s quiet, almost delicate. Something that grows between them, little by little, day to day. It remains until Matt resumes to touch Frank through his trousers.
A deep rumbling sound breaks the stillness, dark and heavy, rolling in the night and resonating deeply in their bodies.
"Ouhh!" Matt breathes, his body suddenly motionless, fingers loosening their grip. Perhaps he is more drunk than he appears. Or has it simply opened up his senses?
Matt remains still until the sound fades, fingertips drifting absently over Frank's body, listening with his head bowed and eyes closed in quiet elation.
Frank watches him fascinated: Matt's mind wanders. He is barely responsive in this state. It isn't the first time he sees him like that, though it's a rare thing. There is something serene about him.
"It's beautiful", Matt whispers. His hazel eyes open halfway again, long lashes casting shadows over flushed cheeks, tousled reddish hair falling across his forehead. The billboard outside casts a rose-reddish light on him.
It is, Frank thinks, observing Matt's tranquil face and his agile nimbleness as he tugs the clothes down. He sets the Beretta on the armrest near the wall. Matt seems to notice, as his head tilts for a brief moment, but he doesn't comment. Frank shifts his hips, sitting on cool leather as Matt pulls down the underwear too. With a rustle the clothes fall into a heap at his feet.
Matt's warm palm rests at Frank's knee again, sliding upward over the inner thigh, fingers spreading, tips leading the way. Frank shudders when Matt finally grasps his dick, fingers wrapping carefully around it, stroking slowly up and down. He has nice long fingers, deft and strong, bruised at their knuckles. They feel good and it takes Matt only a few strokes till his fleshy but only half-erect dick is hardening.
He slides closer on his knees, making himself room between Frank's thighs. His free hand encloses Frank's butt and pulls, till Frank gives in and slumps down in the chair, lower body open around him.
Matt grins teasing as fuck as he bends his head, his lips wet and almost obscene pink, and starts to place sucking kisses on his inner thigh. He leaves a damp trail as he wanders his way up, brushing the tip of his cock, lips sliding over it. He sucks it in, lips pressed tightly around, and it gets a sudden pant out off Frank's mouth.
Frank feels Matt's hand slide up. It feels its way over his tensed stomach and chest, trailing over his shoulder and down again over his arm until it takes his wrist in a firm hold.
"Frank--" he says, voice suddenly thin and husky. He is looking in his direction, his lips already swollen. He guides Frank's hand onto his heated cheek, and its palm looks massive against it. He nestles into it, his eyes fluttering shut.
"I need you to do something for me... -" He says quietly, his voice cautious, almost hesitant. He leans further into the palm, pushing Frank's digits into his skin. Frank doesn't need to hear it, understands immediately. Knows about Matt's inclination. Knows about his desire for a rough hand, and it's something he can give easily.
He presses his fingers into the skin as he cups Matt's cheek in a firm grip, his thumb brushing the cheekbone. His fingers slide over Matt's scalp, roaming softly through his thick hair, until he grips it at the nape of his neck and tugs his head back slowly.
He's deliberate in his movements, watching Matt's expression as he pulls harder, forcing him upward until his knees can barely support him. He watches as Matt's eyelids begin to flutter, and as his breathing grows heavier, and as the dampness of tears starts to gather along his lashes.
Frank's tongue flicks over his dry lips. He loves this. It tickles a deep desire in him. Having the devil in his hands like this is a fucking dream. He feels a wild heat in him. All it takes is a jerk of his hand, and a whine slips from those lips; just a sudden tug, and the tears in those eyes spill and stream down his cheeks.
The smile on Matt's face has turned wild, his hazel eyes gazing right into him.
"Like this?" Frank asks hoarsely.
"Yeah, Frank-- that's--" Matt forces a swallow, Adam's apple bobbing on his bare throat, "--like this." Matt is already hard. Frank can feel the distinct bulge in his pants against his leg.
Frank bends down for a fleeting kiss on Matt's open panting mouth, his lips floating over them. "Now you're ready to suck me off?", he whispers, voice low.
Matt's nod is slow, careful, and Frank leans in again with a mischievous grin, letting his tongue tip feel for Matt's lips before he kisses them tentatively. He can taste the alcohol now, tart and a little sweet. Their tongues tap against each other, they suck on each other's lips and it gets messy and wet. Fast.
“Alrigh'--” Frank whispers huskily and backs up. A shiver runs down Matt's spine, he feels his body quivering in anticipation and his fingers sweaty. Frank guides him down slowly, and Matt follows willingly. He feels needy now, his body hot, his head high.
Matt exhales in relief as his weight comes to rest fully on his knees again. His lips are saliva slicked from the kiss, and so he parts and closes them around the head of Frank's cock, sucking it in. He lets his tongue swirl teasingly, tapping against the underside of the glans and Frank shudders in well-being.
He moves along with Frank, the grip in his hair unyielding. It is easy to give in. He likes the sharp pain at his scalp and he likes even more that Frank could give him more easily.
He presses his lips down forcefully. Frank drags him over his member, filling his mouth more and more, till he can't take any more, till he's near to gag, till saliva spills over his lips, spreading over the flesh with every stroke.
He sucks him off, pleased by the obscene noises his own mouth is producing, pleased as Frank's posture shifts - back muscles softening, legs finally relaxing and head lolling against the back of the armchair. Pleased, as his rigid grip in his hair loosens because he's too distracted and it becomes more of a guided stroke of his fingertips, that still feels satisfying.
Matt senses the heat rising in Frank. A hot glowing, gathering in his lower body that extends to his chest and head. Matt is amazed when Frank starts to fall apart like this. It is something he won't get used to. The fingers in his hair twitch, digging in erratically, his hips shift ever so slightly, then there is even a restrained buck into his mouth.
Frank carries himself like a soldier, like a man of commitment and focus all the times. Alert. His weapon within reach. Even when they are together he can't let his guard down. But he lets Matt see him. And sometimes when they are intimate like now, he becomes compliant, sometimes almost soft in his hands. It's a fleeting moment in which his unwavering attitude vanishes, and all that remains is a human being.
His warm, virile scent grows stronger, intoxicating his senses. Matt inhales, feels his own dick hard and needy in his too tight pants, his body unbearable hot.
It's when Matt rises, trembling knees pressed against Frank's thighs for support, chest rising and falling hard, and leaving Frank bare. Frank will be pissed off about this, totally understandable, but he doesn't want this to end yet. Matt fumbles with his own belt, listening to Frank's heartbeat which sounds like a grim hiccup.
"Damn, Red.", Frank hisses, his fingers digging hard into a fist to manage the sudden neglect.
Matt senses his gaze on him and he must be quite a sight with his darkly flushed cheeks and sore pink lips glistening with saliva. He doesn't even try to hide his naughty grin.
"Fuck--", Frank croaks, hands sliding to the middle of his body.
"Yeah, I want you to--" Matt chuckles as he heads to the bedroom, his steps light as a feather, losing his trousers and underwear somewhere along the way, bouncing as if he is still testing what movements his body is capable of. He retrieves the lube, putting it on the rim of the armrest like a request. He unbuttons his shirt, loosens the necktie, removes the clothes slowly, certain that Frank's eyes are on him. When he's naked, he feels for the warmth in his body, the heat in his groin. He wants Frank to fuck him. He wanted it the whole evening. And he's glad Frank waited for him patiently.
He smiles slyly, as he slips between Frank's legs again, tilting his head and analyzes Frank's movements.
"But right now --" He lifts a naked leg and presses his knee softly against Frank's groin in order to stop Frank's hand from touching himself. "--I need your hands on me."
Frank grunts, his head swinging from side to side, mouth curling into a grin. "Of course you do.-- Alright. Then lemme--"
Frank grabs his hips, fingers immediately roaming over his buttocks and lower back. He pulls him closer eagerly, and Matt crawls over his lap, knees wedged between Frank's thighs and the armrest. Matt tends to sink down, but Frank's grips his hipbones, guiding him upward.
"Want ya to stay like this.", Frank demands hoarsely. His massive hands slide upwards from Matt's hips with pressure, hot on his skin, leading him in a upright position. “--you do that for me?” he adds more softly, lips brushing his neck.
Matt straightens, keeping his body upright, his knees angled in a position that will be hard to maintain for long. But he likes what this is about. Keeping his lower body open for Frank, making room for his hands, giving up a small piece of control.
Frank tips his head. “Attaboy...” he breathes, teeth brushing over a stiff nipple, lips closing and tongue flickering around it. And as Matt's body leans into his touch, Frank bites down, lips pressed in a circle against his skin. Matt moans as his chest lifts and his shoulders rise.
Frank grins against his skin and let's his hands wander over Matt's chest soothingly, tracing the long blade scars over his chest with his callused thumbs, mirroring the movement. He embraces his thorax with his large hands, as he kisses his way up over the sternum to Matt's neck. His mouth stays there, sucking on the sensitive skin, teeth scraping over the jaw bone, lips pressing gentle kisses into the skin. And when he watches Matt's body shiver, his hand feels for the lube on the arm rest at Matt's back.
As he distributes the liquid between his fingers, he looks up to Matt's face. He knows Matt is sensing him, catching every tiny detail, probably knowing what's coming before he even starts moving. Matt slowly closes his hazel eyes, tilting his chin up, hissing the quietest. "Yes--."
Frank presses a finger into him, pushes in as deep as Matt's body allows it, circling slowly in order to loosen the muscle ring. His other hand wanders over Matt's stomach, fingers splayed on the firm muscles to touch as much skin as possible. His lower body is trapped between his hands, and he keeps Matt in place as he forces a second finger into his yielding body.
Matt's body backs upwards reflexively, withdrawing from the intrusion, but Frank leads him back, holding him.
“I got you, Matt.” Frank whispers as he kisses Matt's neck softly. Matt pants, leaning into the caress.
Carefully Frank slides in again, moving slowly but determined, widening him up, twisting and splaying his fingers, until Matt's body softens and he gives in to his touch, breathing throatily.
Suddenly a lightning cracks, followed by a deep rumble of thunder, echoing through the room. The sound is so intense that the windows and the glass-ware in the kitchen emit a high, tinkling noise.
Frank feels goosebumps rise on his neck as he watches Matt, who has gone motionless. His shoulders are slumped back, arms loose with a hand resting on Frank's chest, palm right above the spot where Frank's heart beats steadily beneath. Matt's head has fallen to the side, hair looking soft and damp. With his eyes blissfully closed, he looks like he's fathoming the sound.
Frank bends up and kisses the protruded arch of Matt's rib cage, leaving a damp trail. He already can taste the salt from Matt's skin.
Another flash of lightning strikes and the following thunder is already so close, it roars around them, vibrating trough the room powerful before breaking into lower sound lines, crackling and buzzing, then fading into a distant murmur. Frank thrusts his fingers into Matt's body, pushing in again and again, aiming for the prostate, but slowly. And he watches from below as Matt's eyes open suddenly, observes him full of satisfaction, as the pupils in his hazel irises grow wide and his mouth starts to form soundless words. Frank-- yes... right there-- fuck, yes--
Matt's hands start to wander. He traces the scars on Frank's chest, the curve of the collarbone, touches the tensed tendons, and when his fingers settle at the back at his head right above the neck their touch is light.
What is it, that he feels, Frank thinks, not for the first time. What is this world he lives in? Is it enriching him, or is it already overwhelming him?
He's blind, yet he sees far more than him, senses more than any other human being. It lets him sleepwalk through the world, his steps steadier than a sighted person, his awareness sharper than anyone he's ever met. But doesn't that come with a price?
He can't fathom what it's like. His own world is built on simple facts. The ugly truth of it stares back at him with bloody eyes and dirty hands. It's a savage one but easy to handle, easy to maneuver through, easy to control. Matt lives in that world too. He sees the same violence, feels the same need to enforce justice. It's what makes them both choose the path of a vigilante, over and over again.
But that's just one layer of his perception. Above that lies his sublime awareness of the world. What does it cost him to control his abilities? Is his subconscious doing the work? Or does he have to willingly focus all the time just to shut the world out? What happens if he doesn't? Does it mess up his brain?
Matt's body quivers softly as another rumble rolls in, as though the sound travels straight through him. And he becomes lost in his senses. With his mind wandering, his face looks somewhat dreamy. Frank has seen this before. Matt touching his silken sheets like they're the softest thing, Matt listening to his blunt heartbeat as if it where the most delicate sound, Matt's body coming undone from a fleeting touch.
And Frank can't say for sure whether this is a beauty, or a drift near the chaos.
Matt's fingers dig into his skin, the pad of his thumb tracing the line of his jaw, and it brings Frank back into the present moment.
As Frank adds another finger, Matt's knees twitch. He shifts his hips restlessly. Slight movements, as if his body wants to buck. Or jerk back. Or both. So Frank guides him closer till Matt's dick touches his ribs, till it's pressed against his skin, large and stiff, wet at its slit. Just a little warm friction to rest against, to guide him near the edge.
It's when the wind starts, a rush down beneath them in the streets, suddenly so loud it swallows up the ugly noises of the city. The window swings open, cool air breathing into the heated room. And Matt's head falls down, hair touching the tip of his nose, his half opened eyes gazing trough strands down at him. He huffs, darkened lips forming a small o. He looks gorgeous like this.
"Feel good, --Matt?" And Red sits on his lips but it doesn't feel right here. This has been happening more and more frequently these days. Red is the devil. A being, so impregnable and without fear, sometimes even courting death. But he's not the one on his lap writhing restlessly, not the one entrusting him with his needs, and not the one allowing himself to be seen so vulnerable.
"Yeah--" He inhales shakily. "It's just-- I'm-- I'm about to-- to--" But he drifts away, leaning into Frank's body, head bowed beside Frank's, his heated cheek brushing against his scalp, sliding over his short-cropped hair.
“Yeah-- I know--”, Frank whispers as he kisses his chest lightly, feeling the drumming heart below the skin. His fingers move still steadily into his quivering body, but much slower now. “Easy, Matt, nice and slow, hmm?”
"Hm-hmm--" Matt hums. Already producing a low sound in his throat before the rumble sets in.
How does the sound feel in his body, Frank thinks, as he touches his chest reverently, sliding upward, fingers stroking softly over his bare throat, along his jaw, across the chin, fingertips ghosting over his lips. For him, it's a vibration, a tickle, maybe. But what is it like for Matt? He must feel it in his whole body. Does the rumble resonate in his chest? Does the reverberation warm him from within? Does it make his tendons vibrate? Does his fingers tingle with electricity?
Suddenly it's calm.
The wind has stopped and it's so quiet that even the noises of the city are muted. Then the rain begins. At first, tiny droplets tickle the Kitchen. Then larger drops start to fall, scattered here and there, and Matt can probably hear their faint sizzling as they evaporate on the harsh concrete and metal surfaces of the heated Kitchen, vanishing as quickly as they fall.
He feels Matt's jaw moving as he swallows. Feels the buzzing vibration on his fingertips as Matt's throat vibrates with the crashing thunder. Like he wants them to be one. And Frank knows he's close now.
"C'mon, babyboy.", Frank whispers, guiding Matt's body onto him with gentle hands, easing him down.
And Matt follows, knees trembling now, his lower body arching and tensing in anticipation, his body opening stretched with little resistance as Frank's dick is entering him, filling him up. He moans out beautifully, a dreamy soft sound.
It is when the raining intensifies. At first there are just a few drops, then they are everywhere. A steady patter on the earth far below them on the filthy streets. Then they merge into thin streams of water, finally rushing down from the sky.
Frank places his hands on Matt's hipbones, rocking them until Matt takes over the motion, his body bending slightly back, his hands clasping Frank's neck and shoulder for support, his breathing heavy.
What is this world he lives in, Frank thinks, is it a realm or his own private hell?
The rain falls heavily now. It's a swooshing sound much like a rush of blood in the head. It's soothing. A sound caressing the soul.
Frank lifts a hand, cupping Matt's cheek, his fingertips pressing into the heated, flushed skin. And a pleasant warmth spreads through his chest as Matt leans into his touch and lets himself be held.
A lightening strike cracks through the sky with an ear-deafening sound again, illuminating Matt's body in a pale, dangerous light. Frank feels him moving on him like a wave, rising up and then crushing down, breathing out loud, labored huffs from his large beautiful mouth, looking rapt and almost far gone.
And Frank thinks that, right now, he isn't the devil, but the most beautiful human being he could be with.