Matt Murdock Shorts

The Kiss of Death Lips of a Thief

The guy you picked up last night stirs when you get up. You hate it when this happens. A good fuck and a clean getaway is always your goal. Sometimes you even reach it. But luck is not a lady this morning and before you can find your clothes, last night's bed partner is greeting you with a satisfied smile from his spot on the bed. You'd think that at this point, you'd know better than to leave your clothes in a trail on your way to a stranger's bedroom. Your clean getaway success rates would skyrocket with a little forethought. But thoughts are what you're trying not to have when you embark on these little flings. At least you kept your underwear close. Sure, you fucked, but it's different walking around someone else's house naked when you're not about to fuck. Extra awkward when you're trying to leave so you can ghost them.

"Last night was... intense. I'm not complaining— at all— but it seemed like there was something you were trying to work out," said fling comments as he watches you search.

"Sure. It's a pretty common reason to have sex with strangers," you allow.

He laughs and looks you over, his gaze seeming to read your very soul. If Matt hadn't come along and made you believe in soulmates, it would be tempting to give this guy a chance. But you found the person who made you willing to put in the work and he's dead now. It wouldn't be fair to this man— you know he told you his name at the bar last night— to always be comparing him to what you had with Matt. That's what would happen and you won't pretend otherwise.

"Some people have sex for fun." His voice is so soft and calm as he says it, like an offering, in case you hadn't considered the idea. That voice, paired with his dark, fluffed-up bedhead, the crow's feet that appear at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, that little bit of teasing coloring his words, reminds you why you let him take you home. You'll never be able to replace Matt but fuck if you don't try to find someone who looks like him in the dark.

And, you're well aware sex can be fun, thank you. Matt made it the most fun. The way he'd lift his head from between your thighs, a goofy but satisfied grin on his face after he made you come, his lips still shiny from eating you out. That one time you experimented with ropes and he was trying to direct you on how to tie them. Every time you thought you got it, he'd raise his brows before he wiggled the knot loose. You both dissolved into a fit of laughter before you grabbed his wrists, pinning them down on either side of his head, and fucked him. Learning to tie knots would have to wait until you weren't so horny. No, you know all about how fun sex can be.

"Yeah, listen, thanks for last night, but I'm really not looking for anything right now." Jeans, thank God. You shove your hips into them and continue searching for your shirt.

Man number... fuck, you're losing track. Man number however-the-fuck-many since Matt turned to dust five years ago and you realized you'd never get him back. Mystery number man looks you over. His gaze is something else, penetrative is the only word that seems to fit. "Did you lose someone?"

People always tell you that you have a good poker face. It doesn't feel like you do right now. "Who didn't?"

"Was it your boyfriend, husband?"

You and Matt never got married— you didn't know if you wanted that— but God, neither of those words do what you had with Matt justice. They don't speak to how deep your connection was, the passion, support, and love that was there. The way you understood each other. If you keep thinking about Matt and everything he was to you, you're going to start crying.

"I didn't come here to talk. I came here to pretend that I don't have a gaping hole in my life for one night. Now, as soon as I find my goddammed shirt, I'll be out of here." You curse under your breath. There's no way he didn't hear the way your voice wavered at the end.