(Daredevil) Blood Red, Red Desire
Title: Blood Red, Red Desire
Fandom: Daredevil (TVverse)
Pairing: Elektra/Matt/Frank
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3077
Timeline: Post-Season Two
Notes: Spoilers for Season Two. Threesome. Mild breathplay. Rough sex. BDSM. Comeplay. Voyeurism. For avengers_tables, prompt "blood", Multiamory March, and a prompt at Daredevil Kink.
Summary: Frank and Matt look good together, but Elektra isn't content to simply watch.
There’s blood smeared across Matt’s chin from a split lip, and Elektra hears him make a soft, hurt little noise when Frank slams their mouths together. The kiss is hard enough to knock Matt’s head back against the floor, his chest pushing up against Frank’s weight, and Elektra grins as she watches.
They do make quite the sight. Matt’s faster, sharper, better trained. But Frank is, to put it bluntly, a tank, huge and heavy and unstoppable. His hand frames Matt’s throat, not squeezing but simply holding him in place as he grinds down against Matt’s body.
Frank’s not the kind of man Elektra’s usually interested in. He seems boorish, too single-minded, handsome in a brutish sort of way but nothing that would attract her attention. But then she’d seen him kill, seen the art in it, the focus. There’s a viciousness in his blood, something that makes her want to take notice, and she can admit the blossoming black eye Matt’s given him adds a rather charming quality to his face.
As for Matt, Elektra’s always preferred him a little bloody. He’s so pretty when he’s hurting.
Frank’s hand gropes between Matt’s legs, rubbing roughly against him through his athletic cup, and Matt cries out, the loveliest sound, his head tipping back and his chin pointed to the ceiling. Frank drags his teeth along Matt’s jaw, hand still at his throat, but he’s still not squeezing him there, still not going as rough as Matt likes, as rough as Elektra wants him to.
Honestly, she has to do everything herself.
She pulls herself up into the boxing ring, sparing a glance at the way Fogwell’s Gym is a mess of broken furniture from Matt and Frank’s so-called ‘sparring’ session.
By the time she’s done with them, the place will be an even bigger wreck and will reek of sex for days.
She stands above their heads where they’re sprawled on the canvas, her feet framing Matt’s face. He blinks up at her sightlessly, seeing her in his own way, feeling the heat radiating from her, sensing the spike of her arousal.
“I thought you were just gonna watch,” Frank grunts, eyeing her suspiciously.
Elektra gives him the kind of smile she knows will get under his skin, will make him grind his teeth in annoyance. “I was,” she sighs, her tone an exaggeration of disappointment. “But you’re being so boring.”
Frank exhales, a short and low laugh hidden there under his breath. “Go to hell, lady.”
Elektra flicks her hair over her shoulder and smirks. “Been there, done that.”
She’s fast enough that her boot is already on his hand before he can try to draw it away. She presses her foot down, in turn pressing Frank’s hand down against Matt’s throat, and Matt’s gasp is wonderfully satisfying.
“He can take it harder,” she says when Frank glares at her. “He wants it harder. Don’t you, Matthew?”
She can see Matt’s hips twitch up against Frank’s body, his hands spasming against Frank’s waist. He licks his lips, mouth opening and closing before he can manage to whisper, “Please.”
Frank’s pupils dilate; Elektra gives him her smuggest grin.
She removes her foot from his hand, gratified to see the way Frank keeps his grip on Matt’s throat firmer than before. He’s not watching Matt, though, he’s watching Elektra as she kneels beside him. “Strip him,” she orders, and for a moment Frank’s expression is wary, like he’s studying her, trying to read her.
But then his hands are deftly working the catches of the Daredevil uniform, and Elektra laughs and pulls a knife from her belt. “This’ll be faster,” she promises, and to her absolute delight Frank pulls a bigger knife from his boot. They work together quickly, efficiently, and she watches Matt pant as he tracks the movement of the knifes, the blades singing, her fingernails scratching over the revealed skin, Frank manhandling him so easily.
Elektra tosses Matt’s boots from the ring, his mask too. She’s the one to cut away his underwear, and Frank’s throat bobs as he swallows at the sight of Matt’s cock, thick and flushed and curved towards his stomach.
“Get him on his knees,” Elektra purrs, and Frank hauls Matt up by his biceps, shoving him into Elektra’s waiting arms.
She replaces Frank’s hand at Matt’s throat with her own, tilting his head back against his shoulder and pressing her lips to his ear. “I want to watch him fuck you, Matthew,” she murmurs, and Matt groans, his Adam’s apple moving under her palm. He smells like clean sweat and the coppery tang of blood, and she moves her fingers to his hair, throws him forward on his hands. He catches himself, muscles rippling across his shoulders, and she pulls a vial of oil from her belt - it’s not intended for such a purpose, but it’ll do just fine.
Frank catches it without looking when she tosses it to him. “Do the honours for me, won’t you?” she says, and Frank narrows his eyes but dutifully joins her behind Matt, kneeling between his legs. He slicks his fingers up quickly, and then his other hand is pressing down on Matt’s back, keeping him steady. She’ll say this for Frank Castle: he’s a fast learner. He’s not slow or the slightest bit gentle, and Matt moans, arms shaking as he struggles to hold himself up.
Elektra places her hands on Frank’s shoulder, peering over the bulk of his body to watch as he fucks the first finger in and out of Matt’s ass.
“Another,” she hisses, and Elektra’s always appreciated a man who can follow orders. He pushes the second finger in beside the first, working Matt open, and Elektra admires the catch of his knuckle against Matt’s rim, the way the skin around Matt’s hole is beginning to flush with colour. “Another.”
Matt starts to grunt with every thrust when Frank adds the third finger, sweat pooling across his back, arms shaking harder than ever. He’s always been so good at taking it; Elektra’s fucked him enough times to know just how good. And she’s seen him after a night spent with the Punisher, his asshole swollen, bruises across his skin, so sensitive he’s reduced to a mewling wreck under her hands when she digs her fingers into the sore spots.
That’s why she’s here tonight - to see it for herself, to watch Frank take Matt apart. Why settle for the fallout when she can enjoy the main event for herself? And she has a sneaking suspicion that Frank could use her guidance, because he leaves bruises, but Elektra leaves scars. On Matt’s skin, on his soul, and Frank will never have the hold on him that she does, but it’d be nice to know there’s somebody out there able to take care of Matt’s particular needs when she’s otherwise indisposed.
A part of her doesn’t want to share, because Elektra has never shared well. But then she thinks back on Frank’s finger curled around the trigger, the cold and precise look in his eyes when he’s staring down the length of a gun, and reminds herself that he’ll be a worthy stand-in.
“Take him,” she says. “Make him cry for you.”
Frank turns to her, his fingers still buried in Matt’s ass, and Elektra knows from experience that Matt will be clenching around them, wanting more, wanting to be claimed, dominated. She wraps a hand around the back of Frank’s neck, kisses him fiercely, smiling when his mouth opens for her. He tastes like cheap coffee and the aftertaste of blood, and she drags her tongue across his teeth and pushes her nails into his skin.
His eyes are brighter when she draws back, mischief dancing in them, and Matt sucks in a rasping breath when Frank pulls his fingers out and paws his fly open. Elektra raises an eyebrow; Frank’s big, and he catches her shamelessly staring, gives her this small little smirk that makes her like him more and more.
“He’s ready for you,” Elektra tells him, running her fingers over Frank’s collarbone and down his chest. “We could make him beg for it, but I’m not feeling particularly patient tonight.”
Frank nods at Matt, at the way he’s trembling as he waits and waits. “No, ma’am,” Frank agrees, his voice gravelly. “Neither am I.”
His hand looks huge against Matt’s hip, fingers pressing into old marks: ones left by Elektra, ones left by Frank himself. The other curves loosely around the base of his cock as he lines himself up, and Elektra sucks air in around her teeth and feels her cunt pulse as Frank starts to push inside.
Matt’s noises already sound wrecked, his hands clawing at the floor of the ring. Frank’s breathing out quickly, huffing like a race horse, his cock disappearing slowly into the heat of Matt’s ass, inch by inch. There’s a drop of sweat rolling down Frank’s temple, and Elektra grins, running her tongue up the side of his face and tasting salt. Her hand slides down Frank’s stomach, following the lines of his abs, thumbing at the trail of dark hair. She drags a finger over the base of his cock, and Frank makes a noise like a snarl, hips bucking forward, hauling Matt back against him as he pushes in all the way in one last savage thrust.
Matt keens, and Elektra laughs and bites at Frank’s neck.
Frank gulps in air, his eyes falling tightly shut for a moment. And then he’s breathing out slow, and Elektra hums softly at the first rock of his hips, cock sliding out only shallowly before he fucks back in. Matt’s head is bowed, his chest heaving, his skin turning redder across his back as he grows hotter and hotter.
Red’s always been Elektra’s favourite colour; she suspects it’s Frank’s too.
Elektra eases down the zipper of her uniform, undressing leisurely as Frank fucks Matt slow. His gaze cuts towards her, and she smiles serenely at him, pulling her top over her head. She can feel his eyes rake over her naked chest, but then he turns his gaze away like he’s being courteous or something equally ridiculous. She presses against his arm, feeling the slide of slick skin against her breasts. “I want you to look,” she insists, and when he turns to her she nips at his lower lip playfully. “But more than that, I want a show. Turn him over.”
There’s no protest, no hesitation. Frank grabs Matt’s hip, unbalancing him and catching him seconds later, turning Matt to his side and then his back. All with his cock still buried in Matt’s ass, and Elektra’s almost impressed.
She lets herself fall back against the canvas, lifting her hips and shimmying her leggings off in one fluid movement. Frank’s watching again, and Matt’s head is turned towards her, even though he looks dazed, already overwhelmed.
“Still not gonna just watch, huh?” Frank says with a jerk of his chin. “Can’t tell me this is boring you.” He drives his hips forward again, and Matt’s back arches up, his shoulders rolling back.
“Actually, it is,” Elektra sniffs. “I didn’t come here to see you treat him with kid gloves. I came to see you fuck him.” She crawls forwards, swings a lap over Matt’s head, straddling him while still remaining face-to-face with Frank. Matt’s hands reach for her hips instantly, always so obedient, so enthusiastic for this as Elektra kneels over him. “I told you to make him cry,” she says, and she reaches back, getting a handful of Matt’s hair.
There’s a spark of flint behind Frank’s eyes, his top lip curling up into something between a smile and a sneer, and Elektra’s heart is thundering in her chest, a storm of lust swirling within her.
Frank’s hips snap forward, Elektra grinds her cunt down against Matt’s waiting lips, and it’s like lightning.
There’s no going slow after that; Frank fucks Matt hard and deep and rough, and Elektra gets to feel every one of Matt’s helpless noises vibrate all the way through her. He wraps his arms around the front of her thighs, hands holding her waist, dragging her down against him. Mouth open against her clit, sucking at her there until she’s growling and laughing and letting her weight fall forward so she can brace her hands against Matt’s stomach. Her hair swings loose, her hips rolling back, and when she looks up there’s sweat beading across Frank’s forehead, shining across his chest, his expression wild.
He pushes one of Matt’s thighs up, and Elektra gets her hand around the back of Matt’s knee, pulls his leg until his thigh is pinned against his front. Holding him spread so Frank can pound into him, reaming that gorgeous ass of his, and Elektra’s dripping against Matt’s mouth, his tongue licking across her folds. He’s suffocating himself on her, the way he always likes to do, and she feels like she’s charged, her whole body coursing with electricity.
She knows when Matt’s about to come - she knows the sounds he makes, whether they’re crystal clear or muffled by her pussy. “Don’t you dare come yet, Matthew,” she snaps, and he whines against her, making her cunt tighten, pleasure ripping up into her gut.
Frank’s watching her, his mouth slack, and she kisses him messily, feels his teeth scrape along her tongue. It makes her shiver, everything makes her shiver, and she yanks at one of Frank’s arms, pushes his wide hand against her chest and croons when he palms her breasts, his thumb scratching over her nipple. “He can’t come yet,” she murmurs against Frank’s lips, “but you can.”
Frank laughs, and she swallows down the sound. “You think I need your permission?” he scoffs, breathing raggedly as his hips thrust and thrust, and Elektra laughs, bares her teeth in a smile and scratches lines into Matt’s navel.
She comes with Frank’s mouth against her lips, Matt’s mouth against her pussy, and her voice echoing along the gym’s ceiling. Elektra’s still moving through it, fucking herself down on Matt’s face, still in freefall when Frank barks out a harsh noise and bucks forward hard enough that Matt’s shoved a good inch across the canvas. Elektra rocks back, chasing Matt’s tongue, watching as the Punisher falls apart in front of her. His head’s thrown back, eyes shut, tendons standing out in his neck. He’s like an animal caught in a photograph, something beautiful and deadly, and it sends another burst of heat through Elektra’s veins.
Matt whimpers against her, his breathing wracked with sobs, and Elektra pets at his chest, moving away until she can kneel beside him. Matt’s chin is slick with her pleasure, his eyelashes and cheeks damp and his eyes glassy, his cock still hard and untouched between them.
“He didn’t come just because you told him not to?” Frank rasps, still just as wound up as she is even after climax.
Elektra trails a finger over Matt’s lips, raises it to her mouth and sucks it clean of her own taste. “Matthew knows that it’s advisable to do as I say,” she says simply. “I’m sure you’ll come to realise the same.” Frank shakes his head, looking at her like she’s both amusing and infuriating, so Elektra reaches down, pinches one of Matt’s nipples and enjoys the way Frank hisses as Matt clenches around him. “Now get your dick out of him - I need you to hold him down.”
That piques Frank’s curiosity, if nothing else. He slides out slow, his noise guttural, Matt’s noise wounded. He follows Elektra’s nod, swapping places with her, and it’s only when Frank pins Matt’s arms above his head that Matt starts to struggle. But Elektra knows Matt isn’t trying to get away - he’s always liked being held firm just so he can push against his bonds, be they hands or chains.
She palms both cheeks of his ass, spreading him. “Can you feel it, Matthew?” she whispers, and Matt’s breathing quick and shallow, eyes blinking rapidly, arms straining under Frank’s hands. “Can you feel him dripping out of you?”
Frank curses, and Matt whines. She loves that helpless look on his face, loves reducing one of the most competent people she knows to a writhing mess beneath her. Elektra gives Frank a wink, and then leans down. She breathes out slowly, lazily, a warm gust of air against Matt’s cock, but it’s enough. He’s already on edge, already a heartbeat away from release and making it worse for himself by pushing up against Frank’s grip.
Her breath breaks against the sensitive skin, and he’s described it to her before, the way it tastes in the air when the scent of her breath mixes with the smell of his own sex. In the state Matt’s in right now, an exhale is like a thousand caresses, and he screams, whole body thrashing so hard she can see the strain as Frank tries to keep a hold of him. Matt’s come splashes across his chest, a streak of it landing across Elektra’s cheek, and she watches with eyes that see everything as Matt collapses against the ring, boneless and shaking uncontrollably.
“Fuck, Red,” Frank mutters, and Elektra leans over Matt’s prone body, angles her cheek towards him. It only takes him a second to realise what she wants: he is a fast learner. Frank licks every trace of Matt’s come from her face, and then Elektra kisses the taste from his lips.
“Get undressed,” she says, waving a hand at where he’s still wearing his trousers, unzipped and riding low on his hips. “And get ready for round two.”
Frank jerks his chin towards Matt. “You think he can take it?”
Elektra cups a hand between Matt’s legs, her fingers pushing up at the skin behind his balls and making him squirm and weakly buck his hips. “Trust me,” she promises. “It’s even better when you don’t give him time to recover.”
Frank’s smile is slower than before, wider; his black eye has already grown darker. She likes the look of them on his face, both the bruise and the smile, but she likes it even more when he obeys her orders and starts stripping.
It turns out that having a partner to aid her in taking Matt to pieces is more fun than she thought.
Fandom: Daredevil (TVverse)
Pairing: Elektra/Matt/Frank
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3077
Timeline: Post-Season Two
Notes: Spoilers for Season Two. Threesome. Mild breathplay. Rough sex. BDSM. Comeplay. Voyeurism. For avengers_tables, prompt "blood", Multiamory March, and a prompt at Daredevil Kink.
Summary: Frank and Matt look good together, but Elektra isn't content to simply watch.
There’s blood smeared across Matt’s chin from a split lip, and Elektra hears him make a soft, hurt little noise when Frank slams their mouths together. The kiss is hard enough to knock Matt’s head back against the floor, his chest pushing up against Frank’s weight, and Elektra grins as she watches.
They do make quite the sight. Matt’s faster, sharper, better trained. But Frank is, to put it bluntly, a tank, huge and heavy and unstoppable. His hand frames Matt’s throat, not squeezing but simply holding him in place as he grinds down against Matt’s body.
Frank’s not the kind of man Elektra’s usually interested in. He seems boorish, too single-minded, handsome in a brutish sort of way but nothing that would attract her attention. But then she’d seen him kill, seen the art in it, the focus. There’s a viciousness in his blood, something that makes her want to take notice, and she can admit the blossoming black eye Matt’s given him adds a rather charming quality to his face.
As for Matt, Elektra’s always preferred him a little bloody. He’s so pretty when he’s hurting.
Frank’s hand gropes between Matt’s legs, rubbing roughly against him through his athletic cup, and Matt cries out, the loveliest sound, his head tipping back and his chin pointed to the ceiling. Frank drags his teeth along Matt’s jaw, hand still at his throat, but he’s still not squeezing him there, still not going as rough as Matt likes, as rough as Elektra wants him to.
Honestly, she has to do everything herself.
She pulls herself up into the boxing ring, sparing a glance at the way Fogwell’s Gym is a mess of broken furniture from Matt and Frank’s so-called ‘sparring’ session.
By the time she’s done with them, the place will be an even bigger wreck and will reek of sex for days.
She stands above their heads where they’re sprawled on the canvas, her feet framing Matt’s face. He blinks up at her sightlessly, seeing her in his own way, feeling the heat radiating from her, sensing the spike of her arousal.
“I thought you were just gonna watch,” Frank grunts, eyeing her suspiciously.
Elektra gives him the kind of smile she knows will get under his skin, will make him grind his teeth in annoyance. “I was,” she sighs, her tone an exaggeration of disappointment. “But you’re being so boring.”
Frank exhales, a short and low laugh hidden there under his breath. “Go to hell, lady.”
Elektra flicks her hair over her shoulder and smirks. “Been there, done that.”
She’s fast enough that her boot is already on his hand before he can try to draw it away. She presses her foot down, in turn pressing Frank’s hand down against Matt’s throat, and Matt’s gasp is wonderfully satisfying.
“He can take it harder,” she says when Frank glares at her. “He wants it harder. Don’t you, Matthew?”
She can see Matt’s hips twitch up against Frank’s body, his hands spasming against Frank’s waist. He licks his lips, mouth opening and closing before he can manage to whisper, “Please.”
Frank’s pupils dilate; Elektra gives him her smuggest grin.
She removes her foot from his hand, gratified to see the way Frank keeps his grip on Matt’s throat firmer than before. He’s not watching Matt, though, he’s watching Elektra as she kneels beside him. “Strip him,” she orders, and for a moment Frank’s expression is wary, like he’s studying her, trying to read her.
But then his hands are deftly working the catches of the Daredevil uniform, and Elektra laughs and pulls a knife from her belt. “This’ll be faster,” she promises, and to her absolute delight Frank pulls a bigger knife from his boot. They work together quickly, efficiently, and she watches Matt pant as he tracks the movement of the knifes, the blades singing, her fingernails scratching over the revealed skin, Frank manhandling him so easily.
Elektra tosses Matt’s boots from the ring, his mask too. She’s the one to cut away his underwear, and Frank’s throat bobs as he swallows at the sight of Matt’s cock, thick and flushed and curved towards his stomach.
“Get him on his knees,” Elektra purrs, and Frank hauls Matt up by his biceps, shoving him into Elektra’s waiting arms.
She replaces Frank’s hand at Matt’s throat with her own, tilting his head back against his shoulder and pressing her lips to his ear. “I want to watch him fuck you, Matthew,” she murmurs, and Matt groans, his Adam’s apple moving under her palm. He smells like clean sweat and the coppery tang of blood, and she moves her fingers to his hair, throws him forward on his hands. He catches himself, muscles rippling across his shoulders, and she pulls a vial of oil from her belt - it’s not intended for such a purpose, but it’ll do just fine.
Frank catches it without looking when she tosses it to him. “Do the honours for me, won’t you?” she says, and Frank narrows his eyes but dutifully joins her behind Matt, kneeling between his legs. He slicks his fingers up quickly, and then his other hand is pressing down on Matt’s back, keeping him steady. She’ll say this for Frank Castle: he’s a fast learner. He’s not slow or the slightest bit gentle, and Matt moans, arms shaking as he struggles to hold himself up.
Elektra places her hands on Frank’s shoulder, peering over the bulk of his body to watch as he fucks the first finger in and out of Matt’s ass.
“Another,” she hisses, and Elektra’s always appreciated a man who can follow orders. He pushes the second finger in beside the first, working Matt open, and Elektra admires the catch of his knuckle against Matt’s rim, the way the skin around Matt’s hole is beginning to flush with colour. “Another.”
Matt starts to grunt with every thrust when Frank adds the third finger, sweat pooling across his back, arms shaking harder than ever. He’s always been so good at taking it; Elektra’s fucked him enough times to know just how good. And she’s seen him after a night spent with the Punisher, his asshole swollen, bruises across his skin, so sensitive he’s reduced to a mewling wreck under her hands when she digs her fingers into the sore spots.
That’s why she’s here tonight - to see it for herself, to watch Frank take Matt apart. Why settle for the fallout when she can enjoy the main event for herself? And she has a sneaking suspicion that Frank could use her guidance, because he leaves bruises, but Elektra leaves scars. On Matt’s skin, on his soul, and Frank will never have the hold on him that she does, but it’d be nice to know there’s somebody out there able to take care of Matt’s particular needs when she’s otherwise indisposed.
A part of her doesn’t want to share, because Elektra has never shared well. But then she thinks back on Frank’s finger curled around the trigger, the cold and precise look in his eyes when he’s staring down the length of a gun, and reminds herself that he’ll be a worthy stand-in.
“Take him,” she says. “Make him cry for you.”
Frank turns to her, his fingers still buried in Matt’s ass, and Elektra knows from experience that Matt will be clenching around them, wanting more, wanting to be claimed, dominated. She wraps a hand around the back of Frank’s neck, kisses him fiercely, smiling when his mouth opens for her. He tastes like cheap coffee and the aftertaste of blood, and she drags her tongue across his teeth and pushes her nails into his skin.
His eyes are brighter when she draws back, mischief dancing in them, and Matt sucks in a rasping breath when Frank pulls his fingers out and paws his fly open. Elektra raises an eyebrow; Frank’s big, and he catches her shamelessly staring, gives her this small little smirk that makes her like him more and more.
“He’s ready for you,” Elektra tells him, running her fingers over Frank’s collarbone and down his chest. “We could make him beg for it, but I’m not feeling particularly patient tonight.”
Frank nods at Matt, at the way he’s trembling as he waits and waits. “No, ma’am,” Frank agrees, his voice gravelly. “Neither am I.”
His hand looks huge against Matt’s hip, fingers pressing into old marks: ones left by Elektra, ones left by Frank himself. The other curves loosely around the base of his cock as he lines himself up, and Elektra sucks air in around her teeth and feels her cunt pulse as Frank starts to push inside.
Matt’s noises already sound wrecked, his hands clawing at the floor of the ring. Frank’s breathing out quickly, huffing like a race horse, his cock disappearing slowly into the heat of Matt’s ass, inch by inch. There’s a drop of sweat rolling down Frank’s temple, and Elektra grins, running her tongue up the side of his face and tasting salt. Her hand slides down Frank’s stomach, following the lines of his abs, thumbing at the trail of dark hair. She drags a finger over the base of his cock, and Frank makes a noise like a snarl, hips bucking forward, hauling Matt back against him as he pushes in all the way in one last savage thrust.
Matt keens, and Elektra laughs and bites at Frank’s neck.
Frank gulps in air, his eyes falling tightly shut for a moment. And then he’s breathing out slow, and Elektra hums softly at the first rock of his hips, cock sliding out only shallowly before he fucks back in. Matt’s head is bowed, his chest heaving, his skin turning redder across his back as he grows hotter and hotter.
Red’s always been Elektra’s favourite colour; she suspects it’s Frank’s too.
Elektra eases down the zipper of her uniform, undressing leisurely as Frank fucks Matt slow. His gaze cuts towards her, and she smiles serenely at him, pulling her top over her head. She can feel his eyes rake over her naked chest, but then he turns his gaze away like he’s being courteous or something equally ridiculous. She presses against his arm, feeling the slide of slick skin against her breasts. “I want you to look,” she insists, and when he turns to her she nips at his lower lip playfully. “But more than that, I want a show. Turn him over.”
There’s no protest, no hesitation. Frank grabs Matt’s hip, unbalancing him and catching him seconds later, turning Matt to his side and then his back. All with his cock still buried in Matt’s ass, and Elektra’s almost impressed.
She lets herself fall back against the canvas, lifting her hips and shimmying her leggings off in one fluid movement. Frank’s watching again, and Matt’s head is turned towards her, even though he looks dazed, already overwhelmed.
“Still not gonna just watch, huh?” Frank says with a jerk of his chin. “Can’t tell me this is boring you.” He drives his hips forward again, and Matt’s back arches up, his shoulders rolling back.
“Actually, it is,” Elektra sniffs. “I didn’t come here to see you treat him with kid gloves. I came to see you fuck him.” She crawls forwards, swings a lap over Matt’s head, straddling him while still remaining face-to-face with Frank. Matt’s hands reach for her hips instantly, always so obedient, so enthusiastic for this as Elektra kneels over him. “I told you to make him cry,” she says, and she reaches back, getting a handful of Matt’s hair.
There’s a spark of flint behind Frank’s eyes, his top lip curling up into something between a smile and a sneer, and Elektra’s heart is thundering in her chest, a storm of lust swirling within her.
Frank’s hips snap forward, Elektra grinds her cunt down against Matt’s waiting lips, and it’s like lightning.
There’s no going slow after that; Frank fucks Matt hard and deep and rough, and Elektra gets to feel every one of Matt’s helpless noises vibrate all the way through her. He wraps his arms around the front of her thighs, hands holding her waist, dragging her down against him. Mouth open against her clit, sucking at her there until she’s growling and laughing and letting her weight fall forward so she can brace her hands against Matt’s stomach. Her hair swings loose, her hips rolling back, and when she looks up there’s sweat beading across Frank’s forehead, shining across his chest, his expression wild.
He pushes one of Matt’s thighs up, and Elektra gets her hand around the back of Matt’s knee, pulls his leg until his thigh is pinned against his front. Holding him spread so Frank can pound into him, reaming that gorgeous ass of his, and Elektra’s dripping against Matt’s mouth, his tongue licking across her folds. He’s suffocating himself on her, the way he always likes to do, and she feels like she’s charged, her whole body coursing with electricity.
She knows when Matt’s about to come - she knows the sounds he makes, whether they’re crystal clear or muffled by her pussy. “Don’t you dare come yet, Matthew,” she snaps, and he whines against her, making her cunt tighten, pleasure ripping up into her gut.
Frank’s watching her, his mouth slack, and she kisses him messily, feels his teeth scrape along her tongue. It makes her shiver, everything makes her shiver, and she yanks at one of Frank’s arms, pushes his wide hand against her chest and croons when he palms her breasts, his thumb scratching over her nipple. “He can’t come yet,” she murmurs against Frank’s lips, “but you can.”
Frank laughs, and she swallows down the sound. “You think I need your permission?” he scoffs, breathing raggedly as his hips thrust and thrust, and Elektra laughs, bares her teeth in a smile and scratches lines into Matt’s navel.
She comes with Frank’s mouth against her lips, Matt’s mouth against her pussy, and her voice echoing along the gym’s ceiling. Elektra’s still moving through it, fucking herself down on Matt’s face, still in freefall when Frank barks out a harsh noise and bucks forward hard enough that Matt’s shoved a good inch across the canvas. Elektra rocks back, chasing Matt’s tongue, watching as the Punisher falls apart in front of her. His head’s thrown back, eyes shut, tendons standing out in his neck. He’s like an animal caught in a photograph, something beautiful and deadly, and it sends another burst of heat through Elektra’s veins.
Matt whimpers against her, his breathing wracked with sobs, and Elektra pets at his chest, moving away until she can kneel beside him. Matt’s chin is slick with her pleasure, his eyelashes and cheeks damp and his eyes glassy, his cock still hard and untouched between them.
“He didn’t come just because you told him not to?” Frank rasps, still just as wound up as she is even after climax.
Elektra trails a finger over Matt’s lips, raises it to her mouth and sucks it clean of her own taste. “Matthew knows that it’s advisable to do as I say,” she says simply. “I’m sure you’ll come to realise the same.” Frank shakes his head, looking at her like she’s both amusing and infuriating, so Elektra reaches down, pinches one of Matt’s nipples and enjoys the way Frank hisses as Matt clenches around him. “Now get your dick out of him - I need you to hold him down.”
That piques Frank’s curiosity, if nothing else. He slides out slow, his noise guttural, Matt’s noise wounded. He follows Elektra’s nod, swapping places with her, and it’s only when Frank pins Matt’s arms above his head that Matt starts to struggle. But Elektra knows Matt isn’t trying to get away - he’s always liked being held firm just so he can push against his bonds, be they hands or chains.
She palms both cheeks of his ass, spreading him. “Can you feel it, Matthew?” she whispers, and Matt’s breathing quick and shallow, eyes blinking rapidly, arms straining under Frank’s hands. “Can you feel him dripping out of you?”
Frank curses, and Matt whines. She loves that helpless look on his face, loves reducing one of the most competent people she knows to a writhing mess beneath her. Elektra gives Frank a wink, and then leans down. She breathes out slowly, lazily, a warm gust of air against Matt’s cock, but it’s enough. He’s already on edge, already a heartbeat away from release and making it worse for himself by pushing up against Frank’s grip.
Her breath breaks against the sensitive skin, and he’s described it to her before, the way it tastes in the air when the scent of her breath mixes with the smell of his own sex. In the state Matt’s in right now, an exhale is like a thousand caresses, and he screams, whole body thrashing so hard she can see the strain as Frank tries to keep a hold of him. Matt’s come splashes across his chest, a streak of it landing across Elektra’s cheek, and she watches with eyes that see everything as Matt collapses against the ring, boneless and shaking uncontrollably.
“Fuck, Red,” Frank mutters, and Elektra leans over Matt’s prone body, angles her cheek towards him. It only takes him a second to realise what she wants: he is a fast learner. Frank licks every trace of Matt’s come from her face, and then Elektra kisses the taste from his lips.
“Get undressed,” she says, waving a hand at where he’s still wearing his trousers, unzipped and riding low on his hips. “And get ready for round two.”
Frank jerks his chin towards Matt. “You think he can take it?”
Elektra cups a hand between Matt’s legs, her fingers pushing up at the skin behind his balls and making him squirm and weakly buck his hips. “Trust me,” she promises. “It’s even better when you don’t give him time to recover.”
Frank’s smile is slower than before, wider; his black eye has already grown darker. She likes the look of them on his face, both the bruise and the smile, but she likes it even more when he obeys her orders and starts stripping.
It turns out that having a partner to aid her in taking Matt to pieces is more fun than she thought.