castigador | ( OPEN ) Frank Castle

For once, there's no interference from his side either. His big hands blaze a hot trail down both her sides, loosing a soft moan against her lips when Elektra's plea hits his ears over the din of water falling around them. He nods to show he understands what she wants - because it's what they both do - and picks her up with ease, pressing her gently back against the tile as he guides her thighs over his hips. Dark eyes roll back into his head for a moment as he adjusts to this much more intimate arrangement.

"I thought about you... every day," he rumbles before taking her lips in another fierce kiss, blunt nails biting into her skin now as he prepares to join their flesh at last. It feels like something they've been dancing around since forever, and he doesn't think he can wait another minute.

She exhales sharply at the sensation of those rough hands over her ribs. The anticipation has her stomach doing little flips as she adjusts to the new position. Her feet come to lock loosely against his lower back, arms draped over his shoulders as her hands go to play with hair that isn't there anymore. She really ought to kill off those little Nazi foot soldiers just for that.

Frank effectively stops her from slipping into a revenge fantasy with that kiss. Maybe that rumble affects her more than she'd like. It makes her wrestle with the thought that she wanted to be thought of. What a dangerous and sentimental thing.

"Like this?" She breaks away long enough to ask. It's partly to give him a hard time, but the rest needs to know as they do this.

Her question has his heart rate moving and he's nodding before he even fully processes it. His gaze is dark and heavy as it focuses on hers, and just as they lock eyes he finally slides inside her. Intimacy like this often takes him away from the moment, but not now, with her. With Elektra here in his arms, she's all he can think about, it anchors him to the present in a sobering way that's somehow comforting. Frank could almost forget how screwed up they both are as his ability to think deeply grows thinner. His breathing is ragged already against her face, but he wants her to move first and set their pace.

She smiles like the cheshire cat her father once compared her to: slow and dark. It satisfies Elektra in some deep, primal way to be coveted by him. That makes his entry all the more sweeter, moaning contently as she adjusts to Frank. She moves against him slow and experimental before quickly picking up the pace to something steadier. She waited so long to have him. She needs to make this last even if a part of her knows that is likely to change now.

She keeps her eyes locked on his as her breathing grows heavier, mingling with his. While he finds comfort, Elektra finds herself become sharper; more alive. A low chuckle escapes her as she challenges him. "What did you do when you had me?"

His fingers dig into her sides as a low moan escapes his lips close to hers. He's already distracted, trying to rein in his scattered thoughts, but each time Elektra's pelvic bone grinds against his he's lost all over again. Frank matches her pace perfectly, his head ducking into the hollow of her throat when their eye contact finally begins to overwhelm him. Heat pulls up under his skin, replacing the heat in the rapidly cooling water around them.

"I..." Wait, what? He swallows thickly, a million fantasies of this moment converging behind his eyelids and inspiring a spark of pleasure behind his belly button. Slowly, he looks up until his eyes meet hers again and there's a glimmer of something there. Bemusement and adoration, if one were to guess, probably. "Actually... it was more about what you'd do to me."

The admittance comes out smoother than he thought it would, his voice husky and deeply wanting. He gives into the urge to ramp up the pace even more, the sound of their bodies meeting bouncing lewdly off the tile. Frank presses a wet kiss against her mouth, smiling even as he licks inside.

Her fingernails dig in and break skin as he increases the pace. She meets his new pace easily, hitting her hips against his harder at the admission. The thought of what she might do to him in those fantasies only deepens her arousal. Her eyes flutter shut as she appreciates the way her skin vibrates and heats as their bodies together.

His mouth smothers a moan as his tongue runs along the inside of her mouth. She breaks the kiss for more oxygen. It is shortly lived before she's pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and trailing downward. She only pauses to bite down on the tender skin of his neck, drawing blood and sucking on the wound lazily.

Frank groans deeply as her nails bite into him, the sting of it throwing him off-kilter a moment. His hips swirl once before he's back to it, something almost violent in the slap of their bodies now.

"El...lektra," he manages, realizing he encouraged her somehow with his admittance. His head hits the tile as he arches his throat into her mouth, anticipating what happens next though he still whimpers at the feeling. He's never allowed anyone to hurt him before - not in bed - that's always been the one line he wouldn't cross, but for her? He thinks he'd do anything, and it terrifies him. "Don't stop." It's all he can think to say, both arms holding fast as he lays into her over and over again, losing his rhythm and each time replacing it with something harder and less sustainable.

It's almost too sweet to be true. The way her name fits in his mouth, the whimper he makes paired with the metallic taste of his blood. She never even considers there's lines here much less ones that shouldn't be crossed. He tells her not to stop so obliges. She sucks and nips at his neck until she can't handle it any longer.

Elektra rests her chin against his shoulder as she catches her breath and moaning. "Frank." It comes out sharp and needy. The harder he goes, the closer to the edge she gets. She shamelessly increases the volume the longer it goes. Her skin is hot and tingly all over. It is only when she actually reaches the edge she manages to form words again, shaky and uneven as her gaze blows out. "Are... you with me?" Her fingernails drag down as she asks. It has to be both of them.

He knows it's winding down when she says his name like that, the word reverberating in his skull and kicking out all other thoughts. Frank holds her hard enough to bruise, something he's never done either, but he knows he can't really hurt her either - not without her consent anyway.

"I," he starts, voice high and breathy as he feels his completion begin to move through him like a wave, tugging just behind his belly and tensing up. "I'm with you. I'm here."

And to people like them, that's the only important thing, isn't it? Being present. He nips at her earlobe and allows the rest to take its natural conclusion, his whole body vibrating in anticipation for their joined release.

The words make her eyes sting. Elektra finds herself grateful they're in the shower. She'd hate to be seen as the sentimental creature she is even by Frank. That is all the reassurance she needs. Elektra lets herself fall over the edge, riding each wave of pleasure until the end.

For a moment she lets herself be limp in his arms. Her fingernails come out of the flesh in his back. Elektra appreciates the connection. For this moment she doesn't feel so alone in the world. She sighs mournfully before cutting her own moment short in true Elektra fashion. She unhooks her legs, trusting him to let her down.

He lets her down softly as expected, but keeps his hands on her waist, feeling a quiver in his legs that threatens to bring him down. But then he's kissing her again, hungry and deep, even as his body goes soft between them.

"Ready to get out?" he asks her, heavy head resting intimately against hers. Frank makes no moves to get out even though they both really need to at this point.

Her eyes flutter shut as they kiss, lashes brushing against his cheekbones. They don't open until the weight of his head settles against hers. She realizes that even she could afford to run the shower forever, the water is cold by now. Their combined heat isn't going to change that. She reluctantly draws away from him to turn it off. Neither seem in a rush to leave, but Elektra knows she better take the lead on it. They might actually stand here for an hour otherwise.

Her hands go to a mess of soaked curls that she rings out. She steps out of the shower feeling sated and tired. She retrieves a towel to dry off with, tossing another Frank's way, before concerning herself with drying off. It isn't until she has a towel wrapped around her middle that Elektra breaks the comfortable silence again. "Could you dry my hair?" She offers him another towel. Elektra may never allow herself the luxury of missing anything, but that doesn't mean those needs don't lurk beneath the surface. She isn't any less starved for touch no matter what lies she tells herself.

He grunts, smoothly catching the towel she throws his way. This goes a lot quicker without hair even if he's not psyched about his new look after Elektra called attention to it. Cursorily, he runs the towel over his body so he doesn't drip too much then ties it around his waist. He's already moving to her side to take the second towel before he's processed what she wants from him.

"Sure." It's soft, looking at the towel in his hands and then at her back, eyes skipping to meet hers in the mirror for a split second before he starts in. Holding the towel in both his huge mitts, he delicately wraps her curls in, section by section, and presses until they're dry. He likes that it takes a while, giving him an excuse to linger close to her.

It works better than she expected. The simple act of helping maintain her hair makes her feel full. She likes that he cares enough to take his time and do it right. Elektra realizes in this moment she wouldn't mind doing this forever. She indulges in the idea that she just might before the next world-changing event takes place, eyes closing for the moment.

"It would be nice to sleep for a year after this." It's both an observation and suggestion. Elektra is tired. Everything outside this place is too loud and chaotic. She could use some rest from it with him.

The idea of sleep, though usually wouldn't entice him, after months of having to remain alert nothing sounds better than rest. When he's finished his task, he leans in and kisses the side of her face, compelled into the sweet gesture seemingly by some outside force.

"Okay," he grunts, as if he's agreeing to her proposal on a literal level. Yes, they can sleep for a year.

She smiles warmly at the gesture and his easy agreement. Elektra is completely charmed by him. It takes her by surprise even now that she lets him in this much. She reaches up to run the tips of her fingers along his jawline fondly before breaking away to head toward her room. She ignores her discarded clothes along the way.

There will be time to take care of their shared space later. Right now she just wants to get ready for bed and hope the roof doesn't fall on them. They do have rotten luck.

His routine is well-measured and has been long before his most recent stint on the inside. Habits that the government's war and then his own instilled in him long ago. Without rushing, it all takes less than five minutes and then he's padding to the kitchen to get them each a bottle of water before joining her in the bedroom. Despite what they've just done, seeing her in comfy PJs is somehow endlessly appealing. Frank reluctantly turns from the view to go into the drawer she set up for him some time ago and retrieve some sweatpants. He lets his wet towel fall to the floor and pulls them on before joining her in the bed, leaning over her to put her water on her table before leaning back into his pillow to take a swig from his. It feels so nice to be free - to get to do whatever he wants to do - that he doesn't even think about Maria or how vehemently he's avoided any type of intimacy with a woman since her death.

It's one of life great ironies that the only time she actually dresses comfortably is off the battlefield. Just like him she can rush through a routine without any effort. Elektra just likes to savor the little luxuries. What she considers a luxury changes with Frank around.

Her mouth goes uncharacteristically dry when he leans over her. It leaves Elektra scrambling to move from her comfy position to down some of the water he's brought greedily. Once the bottle is put aside again, she lays on her side. Her fingers dart out to trace a scar on his arm simply because she can. Elektra pointedly doesn't let herself remember the last time she allowed herself be this carefree with a man. The answer will just spoil the moment.

Edited (icons!!! you need them. i guess.) 2019-08-14 03:20 (UTC)

A little tremor goes through his middle at her touch and he caps his water so he can stow it away and turn towards her. His whole torso is a map of scars, naturally, but he's never felt ashamed to show himself around Elektra. They're the same in so many ways.

"Hey," he says gruffly after a moment of just staring into her eyes. His hand slides under his pillow so he can prop himself up better to meet her gaze. Their fear of intimacy is just another thing we have in common, but he doesn't feel like running away now, far from it.

Some people might find it intimidating to be on other end of his gaze. Elektra is sure the same can be said for her. Men have literally thrown themselves to their deaths rather face Elektra Natchios. Right now she isn't a terrifying force of nature. Her gaze is soft and endlessly fond. Despite that initial impulse to run when she spotted the tattoo, the assassin finds herself increasingly reluctant to leave his side much less turn away from Frank.

A small smile makes it way onto her lips as she reaches out again to trace that roadmap of scars starting from his left shoulder. "Hi." It is only when she catches the edge of the mark Zemo left on him that she bothers to ask, "Do you still paint it on?" It might come off as flippant, but this is her way of inching closer to accepting the change and all the unpleasant things it reminds her of.

He'd all but forgotten about the skull and he looks down to remember its shape, rough fingers tracing the edge of it idly. The thought of flaunting it is almost silly to him somehow and he lets out a dry laugh at her question, not finding it flippant in the least.

"Depends. Think it'll protect me when bullets start flyin'?" There's a twinkle in his eye as he looks back up at her. "I could wear your costume if I wanted to show it off." Something tells him, he couldn't pull off the whole 'glorified bikini on the battlefield' thing as well as she does.

Elektra actually laughs at the idea. It makes for a ridiculous picture. That's levity they could always use so she enjoys it for what it is. "I don't think you could fit your arm into my costume." She points out frankly. Her waistline might actually be the size of one of his arms. (Depending on the artist.)

"If you are interested, I could pull some strings with my fashion designer." She teases. Of course she has a fashion designer. Who else would fill such an insane order?

Her comment pulls his gaze down to her middle before it snaps back up again, eyes full to the brim with admiration and just a touch of hunger.

"And all this time I thought you made it yourself. Someone actually designed that thing?"

"I have many skills, but creating clothes isn't one of them." Elektra points out frankly. She's feeling light and in the interest of honesty, the assassin admits this much: "I tried once and it didn't survive the battle." In a rare show, she's a little embarrassed by it. The #trauma didn't help, but yeah. She really did try to just wrap white silk around her body and was shocked it didn't work out.

"I can draw which suits my designer just fine. They ensure it doesn't fall apart like that suit did." It takes a second for the question to properly filter through. Once it does, Elektra raises a brow. "Do you not like my suits?"

The levity is beyond welcome at the moment, and he laughs, a deep rumbling sound as one giant hand settles over her waist and he lays his ear against the pillow in rest finally.

"You won't hear me complainin'," he admits easily, though he's always wondered why she didn't choose something more practical. That's just Elektra at the end of the day, and he can't find fault in it. It's not like a giant painted skull is any less dumb.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject