Matt Murdock stared out into the darkened night, looking out into the city of Hell's Kitchen, patrolling again, endlessly. Trying to ease the ache of loosing the love of his life, Electra Natchios with endless patrolling.
He knew she was still alive; she had to be.
She was the best friend that he'd ever had, not to mention one of the best fighters that he'd ever known.
He remembered the time at the playground, and the two skilled warriors were evenly matched.
"You're holding back... don't." He'd told her. And then a dance had occurred between the two of them that would last for a long, long time.
He'd taken her to his apartment, high above the city he'd offered her as wine and a place to sleep, which she'd eagerly took, entwined in his arms.
He could see her body by the scents that she gave off. The jasmine of her perfume and the lusty taste of her tongue as it tangoed with his.
He had clocked her a good one in the mane of egotistical bantering, and had bruised her neck with the back of his palm. He'd traced the outline of the bruise with his tongue as she disrobed for him, her hands going along the lining of the dress that she'd warn for the benefit. He could sense the peaks of her nipples, as they stood out tough and taunt from her body.
His nostrils also told him that she was aroused. He could as easily smell the musk leaking out ever so slightly from between her legs as he could the mustard that his Partner in their law firm had slipped into his coffee.
Matt's fingers played with the zippers of his business trousers, unzipping them and bringing them down to his knees. His boxers were silk, but he had no idea as to what color they were. He just knew that they were clean, thanks to his uncanny sense of smell.
Just as he knew what Electra smelled like
His hand sought out his cock, freeing it from the confines of the boxers. These too dropped at his ankles and he slowly kicked them off naked from the waist down he made his way back to his bedroom, his cock bobbing up and down as he walked.
