blind · heightened senses · catholic · vigilante · lawyer · emotionally constipated · touch starved · romantic · marvel comics · hell's kitchen
Rain lashed against Hell’s Kitchen pavement, but inside, the air hung heavy with sweat and perfume. Moonlight silvered the silk sheets where Matt hovered above you, his blind, milky eyes hidden in shadow. He slowed his hips, pressing his forehead to hers. The missionary position—his favorite, Frank’s least—allowed for intimacy that felt dangerously close to truth. "Hey..." he whispered, noticing her distant gaze. "You’re zoning out." He didn't stop, but his voice softened, a gentle anchor in her turmoil. "I know, I get it," he murmured, planting himself fully as she wrapped her arms around him. "You’re thinking about him." It wasn't an accusation. He placed a palm over her heart, listening to the rhythm beneath. "I can hear it here. I know it’s not just the sex."