15456/Something new, Lamb Kleftiko

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Something new, Lamb Kleftiko
Date of Scene: 11 August 2023
Location: Apartment 30D, Croft Centre
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Elektra, Daredevil

Elektra has posed:
On the 30th floor of the Croft Centre Building, there exists a luxurious two-bedroom suite occupied by one Elektra Natchios. Amusingly enough, though she often smiled politely to her neighbors and more than once held the elevator for an elderly lady that was slow to get out, not one of them knew that she was one of the most notorious assassins in the world.

Well, she used to be.

Then, for a while, she was a mindless murdering machine that did the bidding of the Hand... which, while it's a very fine line of distinction that exists between the two, it's spelled out clearly with the words 'FREE WILL.' Which, for a time, she lacked.

According to Census data, there were over 700 Elektras in the United States alone, so while it might not be the most common name on the planet, none of these fine people had any reason to suspect that the mild-mannered daughter of a former ambassador and CEO of Hellas International was anything but a delight.

They didn't even have to face her in a board room.

But Matthew knew better, just as she knew about him. They'd been to the depths of each other's souls and back.

Given how well he knows Elektra, how many times she's hurt him in the past (/mostly/ unintentionally -- it was always complicated), and how much of a danger she is to anyone near her (once more /mostly/ unintentionally), a sane person would warn Matthew against what he was about to do. They would tell him she didn't deserve any second chances, that he should move on, that there were other women out there... beautiful women, kind women, women that could be mothers. Women that weren't armed at all times in one way or another, and often with sais.

But those people would never understand the connection they share. Few could.

So, when Elektra called down to the security desk to inform them of his impending arrival, she also told them to add him to the permanent list. She wasn't about to call every single time he came over, and there was a part of her that hoped it would be much more frequent than the last few years.

So, when Matt arrives at her door, it's to the smell of roasting lamb, garlic, rosemary, thyme, lemon, and oregano. Lamb Kleftiko.

If he tries it, he'll find the door unlocked and Elektra in the kitchen. Barefoot, from the padding of the footfalls on the tile. It made her quiet, but not silent. She was, after all, not about to assassinate dinner.
Daredevil has posed:
It wasn't as if the building's security could have kept him away. He could break into this place practically in his sleep - but then he had advantages that most cat burglars could only dream of having. Not to mention that he wasn't the type to give up easily. On a problem or on a person.

He and Elektra were bound in ways neither of them could understand. They were better off leaning into their connection, supporting one another, than they were fighting against it. Together, they could do incredible things. And they were incredible together.

Outside of the times she tried to kill him, of course.

He gets a good little chatter with the surprised guy downstairs, impressed he got through to the 'ice queen' - she never got visitors, much less added to the allowances.

Those scents catch him the second he steps off the elevator and he makes his way inn and around to the kitchen. He's wearing his court suit, a tan jacket and slacks, maroon tie, white shirt, the everpresent glasses and cane. He's kicked off his shoes at the door. "Glad to be here," he says simply, kissing her on the side of the neck. "Smells good."
Elektra has posed:
He may not be able to hear her heartbeat anymore, but it's doubtful that Matthew missed the way Elektra the Ice Queen's breath caught in excitement when the door opened -- the sharp sound it made with her lips curled up into a smile. And then the exhale -- a slow, content sigh that seemed to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders -- when he stepped through.

"Good evening, Matthew."

That smile was lingering in her lips, her rich, exotic accent something just short of a pleased purr.

"No trouble with security, I assume?"

That was a joke. There's a little laughter in the words that doesn't quite reach the surface. But by then he's upon her, at her side, standing just behind her shoulder. She lifts her chin when she feels him lean in, tilting to offer the vulnerable expanse of flesh only vaguely obscured by her mane of dark hair.

It elicits a soft, pleased sound that sighs through her nose, and she ever so slightly leans back against him.

"Hopefully it lives up to expectations. Lamb Kleftiko. It's been slow roasting for three and a half hours, and I just put the potatoes in a few moments ago. Dinner should be ready in about half an hour. Would you like a glass of wine?"

She doesn't speak at his face at this distance, but when she's done she does turn to face him, her nose gently and deliberately brushing against his.
Daredevil has posed:
Matt Murdock enjoys the contact of her skin against his, be it places intimate or common, his nose and cheeks lightly paintbrushing against her, feeling the whisk of her lashes across his skin. His sensitivity is, of course, exquisite and he's highly attuned to her, feeling the flush of warmth that hits her cheek as they touch.

His fingers slide up to glide along her neck, right at the base of her skull, under her hair, intimate and teasing. "I've learned not to have expectations with regards to you. You'll always surprise me," he says. "But that sounds like meat and potatoes and I am a meat and potatoes kind of guy," he says.

His other hand drifts down across her buttocks, gripping the flex of that tight posterior for a stolen moment, feeling her body nestling so very close to his, the smell of the mint he took in the elevator palpable.

"I like your security guy. I hope I don't have to break his legs someday," he says. "I think he has a crush on you. Scared shitless, but still. I can't blame him. Must be a hard thing having you walk by every day. Like waving steak under the nose of a mutt."
Elektra has posed:
The way Elektra loses herself in those moments -- in him -- feels so perfectly natural... so perfectly /human/. Yet, she'd had a lifetime of training and experience that fighting against it. She allowed herself just a hint of vulnerable humanity, but as was so often the case, she remained as coiled as tightly as a spring. She was perfectly balanced on her own feet, even if she was pressing against him, encourage his touch at those points of contact.

Maybe she wasn't human, anymore. She wasn't sure exactly what she was. But moments like those brought it all back, the memories of meeting him in school, of long days and long nights spent indoors... and outdoors.

The comment about expectations makes her smile, but it's the comment about the meat and potatoes that brings out the laugh. "You don't say?"

She shifts her hips and presses back against his roaming hand, her lips curling. "The /food/ will be /ready/ in thirty minutes," she repeats quietly, pointedly, and playfully, eyes narrowing at him above that wicked smile.

But then there are all of those comments about the security guy!

"Which one? Theodore?" His name plate had said Ted. "I'd prefer if you didn't break his legs, too. He's quite doting," that translated to 'useful' in Elektrese, "and if you break the legs of every man in New York that has a crush on me, you'll be so busy I'll never get to see you. I'd rather you focus on my legs, and I can think of /much/ better ways to spend your time."

She tilts her head a little then, brushing her lips against his in just a ghost of a kiss so soft it might not have happened.

"And did you just call him a mutt?" It sounds almost... approvingly playful in its warmth. "What has gotten into you, Matthew?" Whatever it was, she liked it. As much as she might protest, there were exactly zero parts of her that hated the thought of him being willing to fight his way through a whole city full of men for her.
Daredevil has posed:
"I don't mean it in a bad way. I'm a mutt. You're a thoroughbred, you're a beautiful animal they'd put in the fancy dog show on Thanksgiving," he says. "I mean, I hear about that, I've obviously never watched it. But I like petting you an awful lot, that's for sure," he says whimsically.

"If the food needs thirty minutes, then I'd best stop laying hands on you, or it will end up neglected and overcooked," he says, kissing her lightly on the earlobe before pulling back and leaning back against the counter.

"I filed initial injunctions for your young friend. I kept him out of general population. He's still in a holding facility, but he's separated and in protective custody to make sure he isn't endangered. That's the best the system can do for now, because the system sucks, as you may have heard."

"Also there's apparently a giant lizard in Central Park. I went to investigate but a giant man-scorpion attacked me instead. I blame Spider-Man for all of it."
Elektra has posed:
"I've never been called a horse.. /and/ a dog.. so flatteringly in my entire life." He can hear the smile, the affectionate laughter that lingers just below the surface. "In the same breath, no less. But you are not a mutt, Matthew. Putting yourself in the same category as Theodore is an insult... both to you /and/ my taste in men."

There's that kiss of her earlobe, though, that coaxes out a soft sound like a purr. But instead of just letting him go, as he backs away to lean against the counter, she follows, her hands settling on his hips, pinning him in place. Then she leans up on tip-toe, pressing her lips to his and nipping playfully at his lower lip.

"But we /do/ still have thirty minutes," she counters. "I don't want you to feel neglected, either." How's that for mixed signals? First she warns him off, then she's chasing him down. Then again, he knew what he was getting himself in to, with her -- a constantly contradictory game of tug-of-war, seemingly never satisfied even when she gets what she says she wants. Even over the small things.

It was much simpler than that, in reality. Often, she enjoyed being challenging just for the sake of being challenging. It was a game to her, watching him respond and countering, always keeping him on his toes.

"I have heard." That the system sucks. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

But then it's his turn to surprise her. That last statement makes her blink.

"A giant... lizard? Have you taken up a new career as a crocodile wrangler, Matthew? There's a movie about that, isn't there?" Still, there's a hint of concern in her eyes. "What do you know about Spider-Man?" Maybe she meant to ask what the Defenders know about Spider-Man. She'd never worked with the Spider. "He seems to be a magnet for trouble, if the news is to be believed. Is he trying to solve the problems? Or is he creating them?"
Daredevil has posed:
Matt doesn't mind being penned in by Elektra, not a bit. He can't imagine a prison he'd prefer more. He leans into her a bit, then, nuzzling in her hair, drowning in the smell of her, because why wouldn't he? That earlobe may get a bit more attention to.

"I'm not saying I'll object to anything you do. Only that I'm not taking responsibility if it has negative effects on the outcome of dinner," he teases.

He hooks her fingers with one of his, his index finger crooking slightly as their arms dangle, just saying back and forth, like a pair of high school kids hanging out by a school locker, wanting to make out but not sure if the teacher's going to interrupt. Suffice to say, making out is going to win out, it's just a matter of time.

"I know he's young - I can smell that much. Not quite a boy, not yet a man? I know he's brave. J. Jonah Jameson's an asshole, I know that much, so being on his bad side doesn't dissuade me. He's written some nasty things about Daredevil, too. I think Spidey's one of the good ones, just bad at PR."

Then he spends a significant amount of time kissing Elektra, because that's just about his favorite thing to do.