Writer's Note: I, obviously, do not own any of the Marvel OR DC characters. I make no money off these stories and deeply appreciate all your support in reading my musings. :) I apologize profusly for how long this chapter has taken to post. There is no excuse other than the fact that these two character REFUSED to cooperate with me! I finally, after many rewrites, feel that I've gotten to a place that genuinely represents these two. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.

WARNING: This chapter contains EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTACT, STRONG LANGUAGE, and ADULT SITUATIONS. Oh, and save the hate mail, I don't really think Batman's a pussy. It just fit the story. Sorry to all Batman fans out there!

It would be almost eight months before Karen saw Frank again.

Mid July was cooking the Kitchen on the type of high heat that let you fry an egg on the sidewalk and Karen had taken to languishing late at The Bulletin's offices in an effort to escape the stifling oven of her un-air-conditioned apartment. If she didn't leave until after eight in the evening most days the temperature would be below ninety degrees and she could walk all the way home without sweating through her sleeveless blouses. However, today was not one of those days and, as Karen slipped out of the cool air conditioned lobby of JFK and hailed a cab, she delighted in the fact that it was already well after ten at night, below eighty degrees, and she need not worry about the walk home or ruining yet another silk blouse.

Her trip had been longer than planned but, still not long enough for Karen to appreciate everything she had wanted to see in DC.

'No sightseeing,' Ellison had admonished when he'd handed her the economy class ticket the Bulletin had paid for, 'you're there to work and come home.'

But, the Senate hearings on the 'mutant issue' had lasted two days longer than anyone had predicted so, after limited debate, Ellison had finally agreed to let The Bulletin's best editorial writer stay for the whole session. Karen had seized the opportunity to examine the dinosaur bones in the National Museum of History, get her picture taken by the Lincoln Memorial, and even squeeze in a late tour of the White House. After all the Senate hearings only lasted till three and Karen wasn't the kind of girl that waited around her hotel room flipping channels.

Karen lugged her hard sided suitcase into the taxi's back seat with her, gave the cabbie her building's numbers, and leaned back in the seat closing her eyes. She'd pounded out three thousand words on the plane ride home and e-mailed it to Ellison as soon as they'd landed. Story; done. Trip; done. Sleep; coming soon.

The cab was three blocks from her building when, for no apparent reason, Frank popped into Karen's mind. She hadn't thought about him all damn week and, now, images of him in his floor length leather duster swam behind her lids and Karen could swear she smelled him; gun oil and black coffee. This wasn't the first time this had happened but, thankfully, it was happening less frequently. The weeks after he'd left her in that diner had been a confusing inferno of emotions. She'd been pissed then sad; happy he was out of her life and devastated at the thought of never seeing him again. And, she hadn't, seen him again, at least she couldn't be positive it was him, but, still, she would swear he'd been there. There were a handful of times she'd looked over her shoulder walking home alone at night. Times when she would swear that someone had been following her and then they'd vanished; or maybe no one had been there in the first place. She'd blamed it on late night shadows but, late night shadows don't smell like gun oil and black coffee.

The cab eased to a stop in front of Karen's building and Karen shoved two twenties through the little doorway in the plastic barrier between her and the cabbie.

Karen kicked the door open with her foot and pulled the suitcase out of the taxi behind her. The cabbie's light flicked back on and Karen let the momentum of his driving slam the door closed as he drove off before she had a chance to do it. "Thanks for the ride," Karen called with a half sigh into sticky night air. She took a moment, then, to breath in deeply. Whatever she'd been smelling before was gone; replaced, now, by the unmistakable scent of urine from the alley and yeasty bread from the bakery two structures over. Karen looked around and saw no mysterious figures, no shadows, and no Frank. It was 11:34pm on a Tuesday night and she was well and truly alone.

Consciousness came screaming back to Frank Castle with all the grace and gentleness of a stampede of elephants. His eyes snapped open with the acuity of a predator and he took a half a second to reassess his surroundings before unclenching his fists. The coolness of the tile floor under his bare thighs was a stark contrast to the humidity in the tiny bathroom. Frank took a shaky breath and pulled the needle nosed pliers out of the meat of his thigh. He'd passed out again. It wasn't that he didn't feel pain, some people didn't understand that, it was that the pain was inconsequential to the job at hand; something that could be shoved to the side until a task was completed. Sometimes, however, his body didn't agree with him and, despite his best efforts, it took breaks on his behalf.

Frank took the large measuring cup of tepid water and poured it over the widened wound in his leg. Using his left hand he sloshed the excess water off and let it pool on the floor under his leg. Frank then retrieved the penlight from where it had rolled under the sink and squinted as he shined the tiny beam of light down into the wound. "Son of a Bitch," he muttered to no one in particular. He still couldn't see the fucking bullet. Just fucking perfect. A perfect end to the perfect fucking week. Or, maybe, it was the next week? He was hungry so, it'd been at least a day; maybe two. He had no idea, really, how long he'd been here, on the floor of her bathroom.

After, he'd managed to catch up with the shitbirds trafficking kidnapped eleven year old girls out of Cuba, that was Friday, he'd gone after every goddamn buyer in New York state, that took most of Saturday. So it was Saturday night he'd been back in town to find his safe house outside of Harlem had been compromised only to make it uptown and discover three Cuban shitbags in his apartment. That's when it had happened. He didn't even know he'd been hit until he was in the car and driving away. Frank had killed them all but, he couldn't stay there now. He'd driven around for what seemed like hours before finally finding himself next to Karen's building. He knew he had to get the bullet out. He knew Karen would be out of town; he'd been monitoring her e-mails for months. Frank had climbed the fire escape in what must have been the early hours of Sunday morning, utilizing only his right leg and arms, and let himself into Karen's apartment through the alley window. It was painfully easy to get in; frightening really.

Frank cracked his neck and grimaced as he shoved the needle nose pliers back into the bullet hole. He'd practically ransacked her apartment looking for a first aid kit. Who doesn't have a first aid kit? Or even a box of bandaids for that matter? Frank took a quick succession of shallow breaths, braced himself, and pulled the handles of the pliers apart, widening the hole. Sweat poured off his face and his eyes burned with it. He couldn't believe she didn't have fucking air-conditioning. It was 2016 for fuck's sake. Who doesn't have fucking airconditioning? But, she'd had a tool kit under the kitchen sink. Frank grimaced as he shifted the pliers and widened the hole the other way. No first aid kit, no air-conditioning, but, a tool kit under the sink. It was so….Karen. Frank pulled the pliers out and repeated his examination with the pen light. Still no fucking bullet. Fuck. Frank let his head thud against the bathroom wall. "Fuck," he whispered.

Karen gave up carrying her suitcase on the third floor of her apartment building and, despite the late hour, let it thud up each step as she drug it up the final flight. She was bone tired and looking forward to her clean soft cotton sheets and stripping down to nothing in her own apartment. What could she say; the heat brought out the nudist in her. Karen had just barely opened the door when she smelled the unmistakable hint of copper on the stale air of her apartment. Her breathing quickened and she mentally planned out the fastest route to her .38 in her underwear drawer. Her breathing stopped altogether when she slid the door open further to see her .38 laying out on her kitchen counter. It was where anyone's eyeline would fall directly after opening the front door. The slide was locked back and the clip was sitting on top of the firearm pointed so she could tell the clip was fully loaded. Whoever had placed her gun there wanted her to have it as soon as she walked in the door. Whoever had placed her gun there wanted her to feel safe in her own home. Whoever had placed her gun there didn't want her to be afraid. Karen took two shaky steps inside and closed the door behind her. She locked the bolt behind her and put the chain in place before taking her .38, sliding the clip home, and whispering a single word. "Frank?"

When Frank awoke again his reflexes almost got the best of him. He was being crowded by a body. A body that wasn't there just a minute ago. His hands shot out grabbing at the form and just as his fingers curled around the forearms of his attacker he heard Karen's voice. "Frank, it's me," Karen spoke urgently. "Let me help you."

Frank shook his head, willing his vision to clear, as Karen's face came into focus. "You're not supposed to be home till late Tuesday," he croaked. When did his voice get so rough?

Karen had a monstrous hinged box open on the sink and was routing through it. Karen laughed, but, it was the humorless kind of laughter, as she picked up her phone on off the back of the toilet and showed him the readout. "It is Tuesday," she replied dryly. "Well, technically," Karen glanced at the readout herself, "it's Wednesday morning."

Frank looked to his left leg and saw that the wound had been covered with a sizable stack of gauze. "I gotta get the bullet out," he started as he made to brush the gauze from his thigh.

Karen was on him faster than he could track her. Her hands covered his as she shook her head adamantly. "I'll get the bullet Frank." She spoke the statement as a command. "You're unbelievably dehydrated; I'm surprised you're conscious at all. How long have you been here?"

Frank did the math quickly in his head. It was harder than it should have been. "Three days," he croaked.

Karen sighed and produced a pair of forceps, a scalpel, a length of tubing, and a large bag of saline from the box on the sink. She hung the saline from a shower curtain ring and attached the tubing. "Hold this," she said handing Frank the scalpel and forceps before tying off his left arm just above the elbow. Frank's veins came to the surface after a few seconds of coaxing and Karen pulled the skin taut before pushing the needle in and taping the tubing to his forearm so the slender length couldn't be accidentally pulled out of his vein. When Karen looked up she saw Frank watching her intently. "What?" She asked with a half smile. She chuckled nervously and spoke again before giving him a chance to answer. "You're the one who encouraged me to go after Matt. Let's just say that relationship, while short lived, came with some technical skills."

Frank chuckled and then hissed when Karen used the distraction to douse his left leg in rubbing alcohol.

"Where the hell did you have all this shit?" Frank gestured vaguely toward the medkit on the bathroom sink.

"Under my bed," Karen said. She kneeled down next to Frank's leg and positioned herself so she was straddling his thigh.

Frank shook his head at her response. He'd looked everywhere else in this apartment but, it had never occurred to him to look under her bed. Under her bed was somehow too private. That was where women kept diaries and dildos and shit.

Karen let her weight rest lightly on Frank's shin. It was the only way she could think to hold his leg still.

"Don't suppose I can talk you into going to the hospital?" Karen asked as she ripped open the paper packages around the hermetically sealed scalpel and forceps.

"Get on with it." Frank grunted.

Karen moved the alcohol drenched gauze pads from Frank's leg.

"Karen"

Karen looked up from Frank's leg and met uncertain eyes. There was something there. Something very 'un-Frank'; vulnerability.

"Thank you," Frank grunted.

"Thank me when it's over," she replied. And, with those word, Karen Page sliced deeply into the meat of Frank Castle's left thigh. It took her twelve minutes to remove three bullet fragments.

Frank didn't move the entire time.

Sun spilled in Karen's windows on Wednesday afternoon. After stitching Frank's leg closed and wrapping the wound Karen had helped him, very slowly, to her bed. He was already pantsless as he'd dispatched them himself when he'd tried to remove the bullet with pliers. His shirt was another matter and she'd worked for for several minutes to carefully remove it and slide the saline bag through the arm hole. His underwear were a peculiar problem as they were soaked from the water he'd used to wash his leg. She'd considered this problem for a over a minute before Frank had cracked his eyes and slid his glance her way. "Just cut them off," he'd whispered. Karen had nodded then and, clinically, taken kitchen shears and cut both hips of his boxers.

"Can you roll?" She'd asked gently. Frank complied and rolled to the right to allow her to pull the ruined boxers from underneath him before she shoved a clean towel under him to dry up any of the water that had transferred from his boxers to the bed.

Before climbing into bed herself Karen had e-mailed Ellison to let him know that she'd gotten 'food poisoning' and probably wouldn't be in for a day or two.

Frank had already been asleep when she climbed in next to him and, now, as the stifling heat brought her back to reality, she was surprised to find that that he was still asleep at, Karen paused and felt around on the bedside table for her phone to check the time, three pm on Wednesday.

They'd slept twelve hours.

Karen was hot. Too goddamned hot. She'd slept in one of Matt's old T-shirts that had, somehow, found it's way into her apartment and a pair of loose fitting black workout shorts. Karen put her phone back on the bedside table and slid out of bed as quietly as possible before heading toward the bathroom to shower off.

When Karen returned to the bedroom she was surprised to see Frank sitting up in bed with his right leg hanging off the edge and foot on the floor. His left leg was propped lengthwise along the bed and her sheet was laid, precariously, across his lap. Despite herself Karen licked her lips. He'd removed his own IV and the empty saline bag and tubing were coiled on the floor.

Karen met his gaze evenly. "I didn't know you were up," Karen started apologetically, "I would have gotten out of the bathroom sooner." As she toweled off her hair Karen cast her gaze down to the empty saline bag. "You must have to pee by now," she added off hand.

Frank chuckled, "Fire escape," he said shortly.

Karen's lower jaw dropped open, "Eww," she groaned. "You peed off my fire escape?" She exclaimed as she threw her wet towel in Frank's general direction. Frank caught it easily midair used it to wipe a fine sheen of mid-afternoon sweat off his chest. His eyes never left her slim figure, tracking every movement, as she crossed the bedroom and sat next to him on the bed.

"You shouldn't have done that," Karen admonished lightly. "You really need to stay off it; at least let me help you get around for today."

Frank shrugged in response and ran the towel over the back of his neck before dropping it on the floor.

Karen elbowed him lightly, "How's the leg feel today?"

Frank shrugged again, "It'll heal."

"I should still take a look at it," Karen offered.

Frank found himself nodding at her words even as his thoughts drifted.

"I'll grab some gauze," Karen said as she slid off the bed.

Frank reached forward and grabbed Karen's upper arm. She gasped as she felt his fingers band her bicep. With a quick flick of his forearm Frank spun her to face him and moved his hands to her face, holding her gaze. "I'm sorry for this," he ground out. "I've kept my distance; tried to keep you safe." Frank broke his gaze and started to drop his hands but, Karen caught them and covered them with her own. Karen leaned her head forward and let her forehead rest against Franks but, he wouldn't look at her.

"Look at me," Karen whispered.

Frank closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly, willing her words to be different. He still had that dream; the one where Maria was on top of him. The one where Karen had taken her place so many months ago. The one where the women in his life all eventually ended up dead.

"Look at me," Karen pleaded.

"Goddamnit Karen," Frank rasped. "I'm so sorry for bringing this here."

His eyes were still closed and Karen's heart was breaking. She was absolutely furious inside. How dare he come here? He was right he had no business bringing any of this here; now. It should have been so much sooner, she could see that now. He should have been next to her from day one, not skulking in the shadows and squatting God knows where while he waited for whatever he'd just done to blow over. God help her, she was pissed he hadn't come to her sooner and seeing his stone face in ashy agony made it feel as if there was no way she could communicate that. She'd been nominated for three awards in under six months for her editorials. Her fan letters out numbered the three closest reporters under her and, now, in this moment, all those thousands of glorious words she'd been blessed with failed her. She didn't know if she could form a coherent sentence right now if her life depended on it and, so, she did the only thing she could think of; Karen kissed him.

Frank froze. His eyes snapped open and mind raced as her lips gently moved against his. He could feel every detail of her skin against his mouth. Her bottom lip was chapped and Frank could taste traces of blood on the corners of her lips. Without realizing he'd begun to move Frank felt his hand go to the back of Karen's head; fingers tangling in damp hair. He felt her teeth pull at his bottom lip and an animal need rolled through Frank's blood the likes of which he hadn't felt since Maria.

Karen couldn't control herself. It was so hot, even after her shower she was still so hot, and the taste of Frank's mouth only flamed her skin further. She bit at him; his lips, his neck, and his shoulders. Trying to find purchase in the blinding fire Karen was lost to the sensations and laid her face in the crook of his neck, panting as she felt his large hands span her waist and slide under her shirt.

It was an almost imperceptible tremor. Frank silently prayed that she couldn't feel it as his chest heaved and he slid his hands to her waist. He had to feel more of her. He had to know more of her skin under his fingers. He had to know it all. Breathing was secondary to knowing the feel of her skin against his.

There were no more chains or cuffs, wardens or other lawyers, to stand between them. The cops had, months ago, lost his scent and there was nothing to bring the Cubans here. The tremor in his hand fractionally increased. Karen wasn't with him because she had to be for protection, or due diligence, or even for curiosity's sake; Karen was here with him now because she needed him, just him, as much as he needed her. Her mouth stopped moving against his neck and Frank felt her lean into him and pant near his ear. She was trembling against his chest and this knowledge both emboldened and slightly terrified Frank Castle. He slid his hands under her shirt, trailing fire against damp skin, and, palms spanning her ribcage he pulled her away from his body.

Frank's sharp gaze met hazy eyes.

"Karen," he prayed her name out loud. "I want you."

The lust cleared slightly from crystalline pools of blue and Karen nodded once. Her fingers pulled at his biceps, trying desperately to bring him closer to her.

Frank licked his bottom lip and kneaded her sides with his thumbs. "I can't be the man you need, Karen. I can't be home at five. I can't have...the picket fence, the job with promotion potential, the kids." His voice trailed off at kids and Karen waited patiently for him to finish his thought. "I need you," he whispered in afterthought, "but, if we do this, there are no guarantees. I don't want to do that to you."

Karen's breathing had evened slightly and she swallowed noticeably at his words. When she finally found her voice the sentence that spilled from her lips, in hushed tones, was one of the dirtiest truths she'd ever uttered out loud.

"Every time I was with him, Matt, I pretended it was you."

Frank's breath came rushing from his chest in one exaggerated exhale. He couldn't quite make sense of the words he'd just heard.

"I don't care about any moments after this one," Karen continued. "I want it all with you but, I know that if I never see you again, I need to have this."

Frank's hands moved around her torso, under her shirt, and Karen gasped as he easily palmed both her breasts simultaneously. His ego swelled to find her nipples in stiff peaks under his calloused fingers.

"Frank I know you have your reservations," Karen gasped with a smile at his actions, "but, you can feel how much I…" Karen lost the rest of the sentence to another gasp as Frank gave her left nipple a playful tug between thumb and forefinger.

"Done talking," Frank growled pulling her back, flush to his body. His brain had finally caught up with her earlier words and lust wound its way around any sense of chivalry still present; strangling it out with his desire. Frank's hands rucked her shirt up until Karen got the hint and assisted in pulling it over her head. His mouth secured to her right breast Karen felt his hands smooth along her body, drifting downward, until they came to rest, lightly on the waistband of her gym shorts.

"Please," Karen uttered. Her eyes were closed, chin tilted to the ceiling, exposing the smooth creamy column of her neck and, in that moment, Frank thought she may have been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Taking her plea as permission Frank hooked his fingers in the waistband of her shorts and pulled down. They slid easily down her legs and pooled silently on the floor. His breath caught for a moment. Clothed he'd always found Karen to be beautiful. Sure her arms and legs went on for days and, in his experience, gravity hadn't always been kind to her but, her skin was the color of sweet cream, her hair glinted like spun gold in the sunlight, and her tenacity was the stuff of legends. Nude was an entirely different matter. Beautiful wasn't the right adjective. Frank wasn't sure there was a right adjective. Her skin glowed in the mid afternoon sun as if she was carved from one solid piece of French marble. Her eyes were fractured pieces of azure crystal and, when she smiled, the trust behind those eyes almost made him pause. He knew he didn't deserve trust like that. That kind of unearned trust, that kind of responsibility for another person, after Maria, after his children, it was almost too much. He almost stopped himself entirely and left her then. Almost.

"Please," Karen whispered again.

Frank's attention snapped back to the present. The idea that she'd let this body before him be touched by Red and thought of him the entire time.

Fuck.

Frank shifted on the bed as he leaned forward and caught the other pert nipple between his teeth. He was careful not to wince in pain as he felt a stitch in his thigh give way. His dick was so hard that the sheet between them felt like sandpaper and all he wanted to do was flip her underneath him and fuck her into the mattress until she forgot she'd ever laid with Matt Murdock but, the tiniest rational part of his brain that was left at his disposal knew that, if he did that, he'd rip all the stitches in his leg and bleed all over her damn bed. Frank pulled away panting as he let his calloused hands span Karen's hips and pull her sharply forward.

Karen squeaked in surprise. Her eyes were closed when Frank pulled her forward and her hands went out to catch herself on the thick corded muscle of his shoulders. She suddenly found herself crushed to Frank's chest and felt his, rather sizable, erection pushed flush to her belly. Frank was trailing open mouthed kisses against her collarbone and the breath came whooshing from her lungs as Karen felt his right hand glide along her hip to her inner thigh before he let it rest against her sex.

Frank's mind was reeling as he felt Karen's tiny thrusts against his pelvis; he doubted she even realized she was doing it. Her hips were canting just a fraction of an inch every other second and the friction against his cock was maddening. Frank let his right hand glide along the smooth skin of her hip and along her thigh before pushing it between his pelvis and hers to easily cup her sex. His chest tightened and he paused with his lips between her breasts as he found her dripping with need.

Karen whimpered. Frank was lightly thumbing her clit and it just wasn't quite enough but, goddamn she was close. So fucking close. She didn't come this fast on her own; what the fuck was happening?

Frank groaned as he made an educated decision and thrust two fingers roughly into her.

Karen's walls immediately began to shudder around the invasion.

Karen cried out and bit down on Frank's shoulder. Her eyes slammed shut and she felt her legs start to give out on her. She grabbed at Frank's biceps for support and leaned, shamelessly, into his palm; rutting against his hand as she rode out the waves of pleasure rolling through her pelvis. When Karen opened her eyes Frank's fingers were still inside her and, as she met his gaze, he gave a little smirk and curled them forward. Karen squeaked when a tiny aftershock of her orgasm surprised her. Then, as she watched, Frank slowly withdrew his fingers and licked them clean.

"So beautiful," Frank's voice came out in a strangled sigh before he roughly grabbing at the back of Karen's neck; pulling her to him for a kiss that was far more brutal than he intended. But, at that moment, it had to be. There was a monster inside Frank Castle, he'd know that for months now, and it that moment, the monster inside him needed Karen to know she was claimed. She was its' mate. Frank Castle had tried to keep them apart but, he now knew that the monster he'd fought for so long, The Punisher, had to have her. He had to have her. Without her the monster would overtake his life. With her the monster could rest and he could, if just for a few hours, be a man again; not The Punisher just….Frank.

Frank pulled away, barely conscious of his leg, and, spanning his hands around her waist, easily lifted her onto the bed with him.

Karen was confused as Frank began to lift her. She wanted nothing more than to right herself on his shaft and ride him for the rest of the afternoon but, he was moving her across his chest as he laid down. Karen found herself slightly off balance and, as she swung her leg over to straddle his chest, she leaned forward to grab at her headboard so she wouldn't fall. When Karen looked down she found that Frank was smirking up at her.

"What," Karen started; a nervous giggle escaping her lips. "I nearly lost my balance!"

"Sit on my face," Frank breathed.

Karen's lips opened and shut a few times while she tried to comprehend what Frank had just said. She had never. Not with Matt. Not with anybody. Hesitantly she inched her knees toward the headboard until Frank snaked both hands behind her hips and pulled her above his shoulders.

Her smell was intoxicating. Sweet and musky; like sandalwood and roses. Frank was shaking, despite himself, as she lowered herself slowly above him. When she was close enough he grabbed the tops of both her hips firmly, opened his mouth, pulled her flush to his face, and laved the split of her with a thick wide tongue.

Karen cried out. She hadn't intended to. She was trying to be so careful. Having never done anything like this before she didn't want to smother Frank, or break his damn nose, but, she wasn't prepared when he pulled her too his mouth with one firm stroke. His tongue was inside her now. Fucking inside her. Playing against her clit, her folds, fucking her with his mouth. Karen's eyes slammed shut as she fought to just feel. That and not lose her balance. The room was spinning as she clutched at her headboard. "Fuck," Karen gasped as her breathing faltered and froze in her chest.

Frank Castle was in heaven. To know a woman like this. To have a woman's pleasure, Karen's pleasure, bend to his will was a heady drug and, as he watched her torso twist and breasts bob, as she cried out above him he almost came like a fucking teenager. Her thighs were squeezing his head and when he heard her pray out a curse against the humid air Frank smiled against her folds. He nosed her clit forward with the slightest of movements and wrapped his lips firmly around the swollen nub.

Karen's mind lost all coherent thought to a pleasure that bordered on pain and she screamed as her orgasm blinded her to everything except Frank's mouth. Her body was a boneless mass against Frank's form and she sagged forward onto the headboard only to have a vague awareness of large firm hands removing her grasp from the wood.

When Karen finally regained an awareness of her limbs Frank was gently working her form down his chest, rolling her onto her right side, and curling around her bring her back flush to his chest. When he got her where he wanted Karen felt him slide his injured leg over the top of her thigh and rest it there. She smiled. Somehow they fit like this. It felt; normal. His erection was pressed firmly into the cleft of her ass and Karen gasped as she felt him begin to thrust lightly, rubbing himself gently against her ass.

When her voice found its volume Karen finally spoke. "Your leg."

Frank grunted and slid his left hand to her hip before thrusting more firmly against her ass while pulling back with his hand. The force of it sent delicious aftershocks of pleasure through Karen's pelvis. "Condom." He whispered into the shell of her ear.

Goose flesh broke out across Karen's back. "I'm on the pill," Karen spoke softly. "Have been for years."

Frank's thrusts became more insistent and Karen's voice faltered as she felt herself shamelessly pushing back against his cock.

"I was," Karen gasped as the head of Frank's cock slipped between her legs and Frank rubbed the length of his shaft along the split of her mound without entering. When he pulled back again the shaft went back to its spot against the cleft of her ass. "I was always careful with Matt," Karen started again. She was cut off again when Frank's left hand gruffly came forward to pluck at her clit at the mention of Matt's name. His breathing was becoming more erratic in her ear but, he didn't speak. He didn't have to speak; his hands were screaming 'mine' at the mention of Matt. Karen tried for a third time; "Before, Matt it had been two years. I've only been with two other people. I'm clean." The word 'clean' came out in an elongated moan. Frank was rubbing firmly against her clit now and Karen could barely concentrate on his words. He was speaking and she could hardly hear him.

Frank's breath caught in his throat. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? The soft pressure of her thrusting back on his naked cock was making it incredibly difficult to think clearly; he had to be sure. "No condom?" He posed the statement like a question. He hadn't been with anyone since Maria and he'd always been faithful to her. Before Maria; that seemed like forever ago and he'd been tested before his marriage. He knew he was clean but, the thought that she would trust him like that. With nothing between them. His hand stilled on her clit as he waited for some sort of confirmation. Her tiny hand flew to his between her legs and she pushed firmly against his digits as she rocked between pushing herself against his fingertips and then back against his cock.

"Please," the cry came out as a thin whine and Karen was startled when she realized it was her own voice.

"Please what?" Frank grated out as he ground his cock in a firm circle against her ass.

"Please fuck me Fra…" The end to Karen's sentence was abruptly severed with a shrill scream as Frank forced the blunt head of his cock into her waiting slick heat. She had no idea how he'd done that so fast and another scream took her by surprise as she felt a stretch somewhere in the vicinity of her soul when Frank pushed the rest of the way inside her. Her scream turned to ragged gasps when he bit down hard on the back of her neck. It would bruise and she didn't give a fuck.

Frank was spiraling out of control; on the precipice of oblivion. He'd been so goddamn close to coming for so goddamn long and, now, inside her, he was right there. He had to ground himself. He had to get control. So, he did the one thing he could think of; he bit down on the exposed patch of skin directly in front of his lips. And, as he held on with teeth and hands, cock buried to hilt in ecstasy, Frank found his center once more and pulled himself back. Slowly, not daring to move inside her yet, Frank took his mouth from her neck and spoke softly, "You okay?"

Karen nodded and shuddered against his chest.

Frank's breathing was still uneven. The monster inside him had to know. "Was it like this with him?"

Karen shook her head and breathed, "No."

Frank pulled back short and thrust forward hard while simultaneously letting the dead weight of his injured leg to press her thighs together. He was rewarded with a slight fluttering of her walls against his shaft. "Did he fuck you like this?"

A small noise escaped Karen's lips and she shook her head 'No' again.

"When you imagined me fucking you," Frank kept his mouth close to her ear as he spoke, "when you were with him; could he get you off like this?"

Frank's hips snapped forward again and Karen almost cried out from frustration. On the heels of her last orgasm she was so overstimulated she couldn't concentrate. She could tell her next orgasm was right there; just beyond reach. His slow firm movements inside her and his filthy words almost had her there but, his left hand had gone still. Karen snuck her hand forward found the little bundle of nerves, she just had to come and then she could concentrate on Frank's words; then she would play, talk as dirty as he wanted. Another whine of frustration escaped her as she felt her wrist circled and her hand pulled back by his. Karen wanted to cry. As he held her hand back, Frank's hips began to snap forward with more force and Karen felt him hit the top of her. She pulled against his hand but he held her wrist firmly.

"Answer me," he ground out.

"No," she cried. "No, he didn't."

Frank's thrusts picked up. His hips snapped in a staccato rhythm punctuated by Karen's strangled cries every time his strokes hit home. "You're going to come again," Frank breathed. "You're going to come on my cock. Do you hear me?"

Karen was biting her lip now and even though she heard his question when she opened her mouth she couldn't form words. She nodded her head adamantly and gasped when she felt Frank turn loose her hand.

"Touch yourself," Frank commanded.

Karen's hand flew back to her core and began to furiously work her clit. She felt Frank's left hand travel to her hip as his right hand slipped under her side and banded across her chest. His right palm came to easily rest on her left breast; thumb playing across the nipple there. Using the position of his hands on her body Frank pulled Karen back to meet every forward thrust he made.

Frank's concentration was waning. He'd kept it together for so long at this point. Sweat beaded across forehead and his breath kept catching in his throat. Breathing at all was becoming difficult and Frank felt as if his chest was on fire as his balls began to draw up, "Fuck Karen, come on doll," he grunted. He could feel her fluttering around him, hear her high keening cries, but, she wasn't there yet. Exasperated Frank moved his right hand from her breast to slap Karen's hand away from her clit. With a force more ruthless than he intended he sought out the hidden nub; plucking at it until Karen's whole body twisted and, as Frank watched, her mouth opened in a silent body wrenching scream.

Frank's breathing froze. White pinpricks of light danced across his vision as his body bowed around hers.

Karen fought to keep hold of consciousness. Every muscle in her body bore down and the detail of her one bedroom apartment blurred. Mind numbing euphoria flooded her senses and, when she was finally able to notice something other than her own blissed out body, she felt Frank moving behind her, there was roar that dissipated to heavy breathing and, then, he was still.

Karen hadn't intended to fall asleep. She cracked her eyes to a twilight filled bedroom and immediately registered that it was cooler than it usually was in her apartment. It had to be evening on Wednesday, or maybe Thursday morning. Whatever time it was Karen was hungry.

Sitting up in bed Karen took stock of the dull ache between her legs. Looking down she noted soft blue bruises growing across her left hip and the slightest of smiles slipped across her lips as she ran her fingers against the mark Frank's grip had left.

Karen only had a momentary reflex of panic at the presence of blood on her sheets. As she shook sleep from her mind she registered the smell of coffee coming from her kitchen pot and water running in the shower. Frank; he was still here.

Karen slipped off the mattress and padded, naked, to the bathroom. When she cracked the door steam billowed out. She noted a fresh suture kit cracked open on the edge of the sink and a small pile of bloody gauze on the floor. The blurred outline of Frank's body was visible behind her opaque shower curtain. Karen licked her lips absently and, then, thought better of her mind's desires. Right now she was the delicious kind of sore; another round with Frank so soon and she might be the bedridden kind of sore. Karen pulled the bathroom door closed with a soft snap as it clicked home and turned toward the kitchen.

When Frank Castle finally emerged from the bathroom he was pleasantly surprised to see Karen's sweet, heart shaped, ass nude and rocking side to side in front of her range as she scrambled some eggs. It made him smile to realize that she'd secured an apron around her waist and the strings dangled playfully over the creamy skin of her posterior. His traitorous cock twitched in his ruined, blood soaked, jeans that he'd found drying on the back of toilet.

Then he saw it; the bite mark on the back of her neck had blossomed into a cascading mix of light blues and dark purples.

Frank's breath did a sharp intake. His cock at half mast he was taken back at his own reaction. The monster in him needed to bend her over the kitchen counter and take her again. He'd marked her; he'd done that. Something about it pleased The Punisher very much. But, the man in Frank, the Frank left in Frank was horrified. He'd never marked Maria like that. What kind of animal was he turning into?

Frank closed the distance between them and slid his arms around Karen's waist before gently kissing the back of her neck. He was genuinely surprised when he felt her sigh and lean back into her chest.

"I'm sorry," Frank whispered.

Karen twisted in his grasp and gave him her best 'what the fuck?' look.

Frank gave a humorless chuckle. He brought his right hand gently to the back of her neck, indicating the flesh there, "I hurt you," he muttered.

Karen's mouth found his before he had time to pull away, ashamed of himself, and, once it was there, he didn't have it in him to break the kiss first.

It was a kiss that stood alone. It was gentle. It was slow. It was everything she was and he wasn't and, when she finally pulled away, Frank was certain that he had just stolen something far more beautiful than a man like him could ever deserve to have.

"You never did a damn thing to me that I didn't want," Karen whispered, mere millimeters from his mouth.

Frank smiled and stole a second peck from her lips.

Karen loosed a clean clear peal of laughter that surprised them both. "Now sit down and eat your eggs, Castle." Karen commanded as she slipped from his grasp and took two plates from the cupboard. "You need to heal."

For the first time since the death of his wife Frank Castle, gladly, did as he was told.

Three hours, two servings of scrambled eggs, four homemade biscuits, and one brand new pair of size 30X36 jeans from the corner Goodwill later Karen was unsure how to handle the goodbye looming before her. She'd shoved an extra suture kit, a couple rolls of gauze, and a roll of medical tape in a gallon size ziploc baggie and found herself pressing the plastic bag into Frank's waiting hands.

Frank smiled at her actions. "I have all this shit at home you know." Frank faltered for a minute, "Well I did have it before the Cubans shot the shit out of my safe house."

"You don't have to leave," Karen said.

Frank smiled again. "Yeah," he said, "I do. Been here too long already. Car's in the alley had to be called in by now."

Karen found herself nodding. She understood.

Frank reached up and stroked her cheek with the hand that wasn't holding his care package of medical supplies. "I'll be around. I'll be back."

Karen leaned into his touch. "You never really left me did you?"

Frank shook his head. "Couldn't bring myself to do it." Karen nodded and Frank dropped his hand away from her face. "Almost forgot," Frank added, reaching into his pocket and producing a black clam shell phone. "Been carrying this around for about a month now." Frank pressed the phone into Karen's hand. "Should charge easy with that smartphone cable in your kitchen. My number's the only one in there." Frank paused and licked his lips as he searched for the right words. "If you should need me."

A smile quirked Karen's lips and she leaned forward to give Frank a quick peck.

"What's so funny?" Frank asked, smiling now, despite himself.

"You gave me a bat signal," Karen replied.

"Nah," Frank said playfully. "This is better than the bat signal."

Karen quirked an eyebrow and Frank gave her one last quick kiss as he twisted the doorknob behind him. "This calls me," Frank finished. "I'm way better than Batman. Batman is a fucking pussy."

There goes the end of this story. Hope you enjoyed!

Until next time...

Cheers and Happy Writing,

Rev