catholicisms | open post.

( if he ever finds out the doomsday prepper that's hoarding all the shampoo without sulfates, he's going to have some strong words. it's unbelievable how quickly supplies vanished, even in a city as large as New York. finding even necessities is incredibly difficult. he wonders if they would have better success outside of the city, and doesn't like the idea that they probably would.

until then, the lack luster soap will have to do. between the astringent smell of bleach (Matt keeps everything aggressively clean) and the simple soap, there's plenty of combatting smells to the distant scorch and rot still lingering from the flamethrower. it isn't Elektra's fault he can still smell it, even so long after. he's hoping between a good shower, the scented oils, and maybe a little bit of distracting smell of sex the burned flesh will finally fade.

the one handy thing about not seeing with his eyes is he doesn't need to pull back to follow the lines of her body with distinct precision. instead his teeth mark at a sensitive spot behind her ear, even as he makes good on using the shower for its intended purpose, drawing the suds along her skin and letting his thumb follow the fabric, just to enjoy the feel of her while he's at it. )

Two degrees. ( if she was wondering. there's something in his voice that gives away his smug smirk, even though Elektra can't see it. well, maybe she can feel it? )

[ if they find that person, elektra is going to have more than just words for them. it's occurred to her that whoever's hoarding the city's supply of deluxe shampoos, soaps, and lotions is probably selling them for supplies or food, possibly somewhere outside the city. she's sure there are others like them still too stubborn to leave, but they haven't ventured out far enough to try to find them yet. she's not sure what would make them leave; their lives here aren't and have never been easy, but it's what they know.

there are ships still in the marina. there are still vehicles abandoned on the roads. if they had to leave, she knows they'd make do. but neither of them have felt inclined to, even with the threat of more dangerous scavengers and survivors and an ever dwindling amount of supplies to be found. she doubts that'll change any time soon. it's definitely not changing tonight.

he starts the process of cleaning and she shivers slightly as the washcloth is dragged along her body, the roughness of the cloth leaving goosebumps in its wake. he's careful and precises as he works, even as he directs his focus elsewhere, his mouth trailing further up her neck until his teeth come out to play, nipping at a hidden sensitive spot just behind her ear. she gasps, head dropping towards his shoulder as her body curves involuntarily inward.

he mutters his progress so far into her ear and she can't quite feel the smirk, but she can hear it. a wolfish grin curves her mouth. ]

We can do better than that.

Edited 2019-10-08 14:11 (UTC)

( what could push them to leave... well, even as obsessed as Matt is with his city, that fondness isn't worth dying for. what's left of New York City is in shambles. the joy, the community, the heart of the place he'd loved so much is more or less dead. it's sad, though he's had long enough to accept it.

(maybe in a way he's already let go of Hell's Kitchen, when he suggested they run away together.)

he laughs, both at her challenge and the sound of the cheshire grin in her voice. hearing it, sensing it, isn't the seem as seeing it, but he still knows it's there. he's hard already, alert between them when they're pressed so close. it's such a waste of hot water to fuck in the spray, but they both knew what they were doing. they might be finishing their shower in lukewarm water, but it seems a worthy sacrifice.

there's a clear shift in abandoning the washcloth, in wanting to focus on having her than the shower itself. his hand finds purchase at her hip instead, mouth continuing to hover at her ear. ) Your leg? ( he's considering turning her around and taking her from behind, though that could strain her injury and he's aware. if it's hurting, he could just hoist her against the wall -- or go down on her, he's never been reluctant to do that. )

[ it aches a little bit, but it's nothing she can't handle now or won't be able to handle later. the wound is scabbed over by now, still tender and painful when she exerts herself too much, but not bleeding or infected in either of the ways that they'd feared possible. her hand covers his where it rests on her hip, fingertips laying over his knuckles. ]

It's fine. [ to demonstrate this, she reaches said leg forward, curving it around his calf. ]

( fine, she says. he knows that the wound hasn't been torn open, it's skinned over, slowly but surely it's healing. they can't strain her too much, though sex against a wall likely isn't any more strain than running through the zombie-infected streets of New York. her agreement that is fine is enough for him, he's not inclined to question it.

both of them have plenty of tendency to ignore an injury and push themselves too far. that said, usually that tendency rears its ugly head when they can't afford to let it slow them down. now, she has no reason to lie; furthermore he knows she isn't. if she's not worried about it, he's not going to worry about it either. )

Good. ( he likes the feeling of her hand over his, and rubs a pattern into her skin in approval. ) Tell me what you want, Elektra. I want to hear it. ( he's always liked dragging details out of her, to fill in details he can't see. they have a lot less time to chat now, and he still asks anyway. she's got to be used to it by now. )

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