itinere | Open | Sometimes ghosts find you no matter how far you run

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Open | Sometimes ghosts find you no matter how far you run

Matt has been in Itinere for a few months now. He's settled, as much as he can, and he's come up with a routine, but he still doesn't have a purpose. Daredevil isn't something that's needed here nor is practicing law something that's necessary. He feels rudderless and useless without something to do, some way to help. It's with this useless feeling that he wakes up one morning, showers, dresses and grabs his keys from the side table out of habit more than anything. He locks his apartment door and notices a new key on his keyring, but it's also an old key, one with edges worn and notches that he could trace in his sleep. His heart catches in his throat and he pushes hope and emotion down. It's just a key, he tells himself then takes the elevator down and heads out the main door of the apartment building to grab a cup of coffee.

He walks along the street as he usually does with his coffee when a familiar smell stops him in his tracks and it occurs to him that maybe the key isn't just a key. With a little exploration, he figures out which building is new, which building wasn't there yesterday morning when he'd taken this walk. His hands slide along bricks, feeling a building that's been a part of his life for as long as he can remember, a building that ought to be in Hell's Kitchen and not here. At the front door, he gets the key out and tries it, unsurprised at this point when it unlocks the door and he steps inside. He can't see the room that's actually in front of him, but he knows what it looks like regardless, or he knows what it looked like when he was nine years old, when he used to go to the gym with his dad and hang over the ropes of the ring while he practiced. It smells exactly the same and that smell evokes Matt's childhood memories, good memories of afternoons with his father, of his father's refusal to teach him to box because he wanted him to use his brains instead of his fists.

Despite Matt's memories, the gym isn't quite the same. It contains many elements of the old gym he'd spent so much time in. There's a boxing ring and a slew of punching bags, but there's also a cardio room with treadmills and exercise bikes. It's also got Murdock's Gym on the sign out front, a fight poster of Battlin' Jack Murdock and an advertisement of his last fight. His robe is there as well encased in glass. Matt will spend the rest of the day exploring those differences in this gym and the one from his childhood. Feel free to come in and disturb him. He could stand to be pulled out of his memories.

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Physical intimacy might be something new to Katniss but passion is something she's always had. Always easily expressed in all her actions. Passion is what made Katniss such an effective figurehead for the rebellion. When she acted, she acted with her full heart and soul. She's rarely hesitated, rarely backed away from something that she's wanted. And this is what she wants right now. Katniss wants him.

So passion comes easy. Katniss hasn't had the same practice kissing that Matt has but she's not worrying about that right now. She's no longer worrying about whether she's pleasing him because she's already felt how good his erection feels when pressed between her legs. Instead she's entirely focused on expressing everything that she can't put into words. She's focused on feeding a hunger for him that might never be sated. On making her, making him, making them feel good with every kiss.

"Good," she breathes out as she struggles to catch her breath. Her heart's beating fast from kissing and humping their way up the steps. It doesn't get a chance to slow. She closes her eyes as he peels off her shirt, not wanting to see the scars covering her body and wanting instead to focus on the feel of his hands on her body. As soon as he rids her of her shirt, she places her hands back on him - one on his lower back, the other caressing his shoulder. Katniss gasps as his lips find the top curve of her breasts. He doesn't seem to care about the scars and for once, neither does she. "Matt." She almost laughs again in excitement and freedom. Instead she sighs and words slip out without thought, "Matt, I want you to kiss me everywhere."

That passion more than makes up for any inexperience she might have, at least in Matt's opinion, as does the way she wants him.

This is how she should always feel when kissing; she shouldn't worry about whether she's doing it right; she should worry about how it feels to her and it very obviously feels good to him. He's having no problem understanding what she wants, understanding how she feels. The best sort of hunger is the kind that feeds itself this way. He has the same goal in mind.

He can hear the way her heart beats and can smell her desire. Both things make him want her even more, if that's possible. It's a relief when her hands are on him again. He knows the scars are there, but they don't bother him in the least. If anything, they're more attractive to him. They show that she's a survivor and he likes that. He groans at her request, breathless, his own heart beating fast. "I think I can manage that," he tells her before moving his lips to her neck and reaching back to unhook her bra.

She's younger than him, a lot younger, but that's never seemed to matter. It doesn't seem to matter much now either. What matters is the way they're drawn to each other. That he understands the tragedies in her past as well as she understands the ones that happened in his. Katniss had to grow up faster than most. He accepts that. He accepts her.

Does he know how much of a difference that's made in her life here? Katniss has never trusted easily. She trusts Matt implicitly. Right now, she doesn't have any worries in mind. Instinct works. Paying attention to Matt's lead helps, too. She's having fun, she's enjoying this hunger and passion he elicits in her. If this is how she always feels when kissing Matt, she thinks that she can become addicted.

"You're doing a good job," she whispers, arching her head to the side to give him better access to her skin. His lips are soft against her skin and she's already imagining how good they'll feel as he continues to explore her body. She's completely breathless, her heart beating furiously and her breath coming out in small pants. Making him groan again is definitely a goal of hers. She stops touching him only to let her bra slip to the floor. Then her hands are back on his body, tracing the small scars he has and the outlines of his muscles. "What can I do? For you?"

Matt knows Katniss is younger than him, but he doesn't know how much younger. His vision doesn't tell him that sort of thing and it's never mattered enough for him to ask. He assumes that Katniss is old enough for a relationship. She's more mature than her years and he knows that her experiences have done that to her.

Probably not, but trust generally makes a good deal of difference in a life. It's important to have someone to trust. It's particularly important in a relationship. Instinct seems to be working beautifully for her. He hopes this is always how she feels kissing him. This is how kissing should feel, all this fire and passion.

She tilts her head to the side, giving him more permission to continue kissing and nibbling at her skin. He's stopped paying attention to her heartbeat. He's far too wrapped up in her, in how she feels and sounds, in how she makes him feel which is wildly, breathlessly, wonderfully. Those little pants are addicting as fuck. He hears her bra slip down her skin and hit the floor. His hands move from her waist to slide up her ribs so he can cup her breasts with his hands.

"This. Touch me. Kiss me. Everything you're doing," he gasps against her skin.

It never seemed like an important conversation to Katniss either. She knows that he's older, albeit she doesn't now how much older either. Katniss doesn't think it matters. He's someone who understands her, likes her, and accepts her. There's a spark between them that she hadn't expected and she's found herself surprisingly okay with. More than okay if she's being honest.

"Oh," she gasps when his hands cup her breasts. That feels good. That feels so very, very good right now. Katniss leans into his touch, pressing her body up against his. Her hands move back up his back to wrap her arms around his neck. She tugs his head down so she can kiss him again and then smiles against his lips. "I can do that. Just don't stop touching me." With that request, she begins to kiss and nibble along his jaw.

Their ages haven't mattered to Matt for the same reasons. The spark had surprised him, to be honest. He'd started out wanting to be a friend to Katniss, but it hadn't stayed that way, and he's so grateful for that. This spark is such a pleasant and wonderful surprise.

"I promise," he murmurs, tilting his head so that Katniss has more access to his neck and his jaw. His hands slide down her body to her waist then around to the button on her pants. He undoes it smoothly, one hand sliding down into her pants, over her panties, fingers rubbing gently between her legs.

He knows that she's young enough to never have experienced sex before - even though the uprising (and her personality) had a lot more to do with that than her age. That doesn't bother him. Given her life experiences, and what she knows of his, she can't think of much else that might actually matter when it comes to age. Matt gets her. He understands the hardships of life. It shouldn't fan a spark into a flame, but somehow it has.

Maybe she hadn't exactly realized what she was getting into when she urged Matt to take this upstairs. No, Katniss definitely hadn't realized. In the back of her mind, she registers that his hands have gone to her pants and undone the buttons holding them closed. But her focus remains on his neck, on kissing and nipping the skin and enjoying the salt-tinged taste of his skin. At least until his fingers start to rub between her legs and her legs grow weak. Katniss clings to him, gasping at the sensation. It's better than grinding against him. Better than his hand on her breast. Better than anything else he's done tonight.

"Matt," she breathes, simultaneously worshiping his name and begging for more in that one word. Her head falls against his shoulder. She squirms a little, widens her legs, tries to do something, anything, to get more of that feeling. "Matt."

He does know that and he suspects that the way she tries to put distance between herself and others, the things she has to deal with at home as well as the way she copes with problems have a lot to do with her lack of experience. She's old in ways that someone her age shouldn't ever be. She's seen people die, been responsible for that and carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. All of that matters so much more than her actual age. Claire had chastised him for being interested in someone so young, but Katniss understands him in a way that most people don't. She cares in a way that most people don't, or haven't wanted to.

Matt suspects that as well and he's prepared to stop when ever she acts uncomfortable with anything they're doing. To be honest, he hadn't been sure what she expected (or what he expected) when she suggested they go upstairs. This is much further than they've ever gone physically. Her lips and teeth on his neck are enough to slowly drive him crazy in all the best ways. Her reaction encourages him, but it also feeds that hunger building inside of him. He likes making her go weak-kneed and wanton like this. If she'll let him, he'll move a little so that they're both stretched out on the floor, him hovering above her, perched on one elbow while he continues to stroke her and draw those little gasps out of her.

Putting distance between herself and others has been a way to protect herself for most of her life. People in the Seam don’t live nice, neat lives. Their lives are messy. They die young. There wasn’t much hope in the world that she had been born into and in part because of that, Katniss had to grow up fast. She had to grow up even faster after her sixteenth birthday. But those are aspects of her life she doesn’t like to share. With Matt, it’s different. He carried the weight of his world on his shoulder, too. She’s opened up to him in a way she hasn’t done with anyone else she’s met here.

So it seems almost natural that she opens up to him like this, too. Maybe she should feel more uncomfortable letting a man touch her like this but she doesn’t feel the fear or nerves she thought she would. At this point, Katniss trusts Matt to lead her anywhere. She doesn’t put up any kind of resistance when he lays her out on the floor. It gives her a chance to squirm out of her pants – or at least bunch them up by the boots still on her feet. Her head rests on the floor, braid messy and mused because of her inability to keep still. She forces her eyes open so that she can watch him as he strokes her. Somehow, that makes all this sexier. It makes the pleasure all that more intense. And it doesn’t take all that much more before she cries out louder than before, gasping his name as her orgasm hits hard.

Matt has found that most people don't live nice, neat lives. Oh, they may appear that way from the outside looking in, but once you look beneath the veneer....life is messy. It's a by-product of being alive. The difference is in Matt's world, if you're lucky, you do get to live to be an old person. There is more hope in his world, and he wants to keep it that way. If Katniss hadn't opened up to him the way that she has, he would never realize how alike they are; they would never be in this place that they are right now.

He likes this place they're in right now, both physically and emotionally. There's no shame in this act, but he understands that she's just now realizing that. With his free hand, he manages to get her boots off her feet, one at a time then her pants half off so that he can spread her legs a little wider. He knows that she's watching him and he can sense how much she likes being able to do that. He groans, anticipating her orgasm and leans down on one elbow, his fingers and hand still inside of her as he whispers to her 'Yes, Katniss. Yes. Come for me."

Then she's orgasming and despite the fact that he's still wearing his pants and is pressed hard against her thigh, he groans and somehow feels deeply satisfied emotionally if not physically.

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Open | Sometimes ghosts find you no matter how far you run

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