daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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He wails, loud and long, until he's expelled all the air from his lungs, but Vanessa isn't phased in the slightest. She's keeping up a running commentary about how his eyes are rolling back in his head, and how flushed his skin has become along his neck and chest; how perfect his ass looks covered in bruises; how good she thinks his dick will feel inside of her; how she wishes she could keep him --

Please stop. Please please please, God, I'm sorry, I’ll do anything, please -

Distantly, he hears her murmur the words: “I think he’s ready for you now.”

The rod is pulled out, and Fisk lets go of him. Matt collapses onto the mattress with a moan. He should be trying to get away - this is the chance he'd been waiting for - but excruciating pain spikes through him when he tries. His neck and shoulders are cramping from being forced to hold such an awkward position for so long, his legs feel numb from kneeling, and he's afraid to move and aggravate the wounds inside of him. It still feels like the rod is still in there.

Like the proverbial knell, Matt hears the sound of another condom wrapper being torn open, and then the wet sound of Vanessa's mouth on Fisk's as she kisses him while they roll the condom on. She whispers tenderly to him: "Show me. I want to see how much you hate him." And apparently tearing him open with a wooden rod is all the preparation they are going to afford him, because Fisk has barely finished positioning himself against Matt's bloody hole before his cock stabs into him with a sharpness that makes Matt black out for an indeterminate amount of time.

He hears himself keening before he even fully returns to consciousness.

“Quiet, Matthew. We’d hate to have to involve your neighbour in our private affairs.”

Matt whimpers, and tries to do as he's told - he doesn’t want to be responsible for the death of an old woman - but he can’t stop himself. He's being crushed under Fisk's weight, his body dragging back and forth across his mattress, and he can barely draw breath through his nose. The bed is creaking in time with the movement, thumping against the wall with every thrust. Fisk is growling in his ear; Matt can hear his teeth grinding together in what he imagines to be a vindictive grin. He hears him hissing: Take it, take it, as he pistons his hips. He can feel Fisk's balls slapping against his ass. It feels like every violent fantasy Fisk has ever had about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is being fucked into him, and Matt sobs pitifully.

Fisk had started off by pulling out all the way on every stroke before slamming back in again, but now he buries himself as far in as he can go in order to grind against Matt's ass aggressively. With his cock in so deep, he hits Matt's prostate over and over again, and Matt feels himself harden slowly despite the pain. He can’t understand why his body is betraying him like this; Fisk's cock is huge and it hurts worse than the escrima stick. But his erection is dragging across his silk sheets and it actually feels good - good enough that his body wants to chase that little bit of pleasure; he can feel himself starting to rock back into Fisk's thrusts - so he starts screaming again just to prove (to himself? to them?) that he isn’t enjoying what they're doing to him.

He prays neither of them will notice, but:

“Remember what I told you, about art and honesty, Matthew?”

Fisk seems to take this as some kind of cue, because he wraps his arms around Matt's middle and rolls them over, so that Matt is laying on his back on top of Fisk, whose cock is still inside of him, though he's stopped thrusting now. Matt's erection bobs obscenely now that it isn't trapped against the mattress, and he growls to disguise his shame. He tries unsuccessfully to extricate himself from Fisk's grasp, twisting from side to side and then throwing his head back in an attempt to break Fisk’s nose. But it only hits him below the collar bone.

Vanessa is moving towards them on her hands and knees, and Matt tries to kick her before Fisk hooks his legs over Matt’s to immobilize him. She crawls between their legs, runs her hand along where he and Fisk are joined, over Matt's dick, and all the way up his body to tangle in his hair. Then she straddles him, and rubs herself slowly along his length. It turns out she's wearing lace underwear, and it drags across the sensitive skin in a way that's not entirely pleasant, and he shudders. He can feel her high heels where they dig against his thighs.

Fisk still hasn’t resumed moving yet, and the pleasure combined with the throbbing pain in his ass makes Matt lightheaded. It doesn't take long at all before Matt's pressing himself up against her, and she pets his hair before lifting herself up so she can roll a condom onto him. Then she's pulling her panties aside and guiding the head of his dick to her before smoothly sinking down onto him. He bucks despite himself and moans around the gag, shaking his head from side to side in bitter denial.

“Oh, yes.” She laughs in cruel satisfaction. "You were made for this. Beautiful boy. So good.”

His world narrows down to slick heat and tight suction around his dick, and he can’t help but move with her as she fucks herself on him. The movement causes Fisk’s cock to drag in and out of him incrementally, which reopens the little fissures inside of him. Matt's only ever felt pain like this from stab wounds before, and it scares him. But then Vanessa is thumbing at his nipples, and she laughs softly when he moans. Her hands caress his stomach, his sides, his chest, as she glides smoothly on his dick.

It's only when her movements become erratic, breath stuttering as she grinds down on Matt with one hand rubbing urgently at her clit, that Fisk starts to move again. His cock thrusts up into Matt at a punishing speed, which in turn causes Matt to thrust harder into Vanessa. They are all panting and moaning, and there is no immediate discernible difference between pain and pleasure in those sounds. Fisk is breathing heavily, open-mouthed against the back of Matt's head and Vanessa is moaning self-indulgently as she chases her orgasm. Matt's senses are overwhelmed by the wet sounds of their bodies moving together; the feeling of the hair on Fisk's chest and stomach itching against Matt's back; the roughness of Vanessa's lace bra when she leans down to bite at Matt's neck; the slick mixture of sweat and arousal and blood.

If Matt survives this he wants to wash the two of them off his body immediately.

Vanessa suddenly goes rigid as her orgasm rolls over her, clenching around him with a low cry as she comes, which in turn triggers the most painful orgasm Matt's ever had in his life; there is no relief, only searing pain and the delayed onset of shock. It takes half a minute more for Fisk to finally come, and by that time Matt is so over-sensitized that he might have screamed if his throat wasn't raw.

She waits until Matt goes completely soft inside her before she climbs off of him and removing the condom. Then Matt is being rolled off of Fisk so he can remove his condom as well. Matt hears the popping of joints as Vanessa rises from the bed and stretches, before heading towards the ensuit washroom with a contented sigh. He can hear the shower begin to run a moment later.

Matt lays sprawled on his side and waits for whatever happens next. Before, he would have given anything to be free, but now he can’t move a muscle. The idea is unthinkable. He just wants to stay like this forever, because some childish part of his mind believe that if he just stays as still as possible and closes his eyes, they won’t hurt him anymore.

Fisk is cutting the duct tape from his wrists, and by now Matt’s hands are so numb that they don’t even feel like they don’t belong to his body anymore. Then the tape is being peeled off his face and the mask pulled from his mouth. He drools all over his sheets and himself, but Matt can’t bring himself to care. Not when he reeks of sex and can still feel blood leaking from his ass. Fisk could try to kill him right now and Matt would let him.

I’ll have to buy new sheets. So much blood will be hard to explain to the dry cleaners.

His shirt and pants are also removed and tossed onto the bed before Fisk lifts him into his arms and walks with him into the washroom, where Vanessa is waiting in the shower. For once her desires align with his own, and Matt curls up on the floor of the stall. He doesn't react as her soapy hands wandering over his body, or when she dips two of her fingers into him to clear away dried blood and any semen that may have escaped the condom, or when she rinses his pubic hair or cleans under his finger nails.

The noise of the water lulls him and he thinks I could fall asleep here; and perhaps he does, because the next thing he’s aware of is being towelled off in his living room and hearing the snap of latex gloves being pulled on in the background.

The sound triggers a memory of Claire.

I should probably call her…

Matt hears Fisk talking in low tones in the bedroom, and he realizes there is another person in his apartment now. The telltale tick tick ticking of his watch reveals him to be Mr Confederated Global Investments. He is unnaturally calm, breath and heartbeat both even. Who was he? Had he been in the apartment the entire time? Had he watched?

Matt hears his silk sheets rustle as they're stripped from the mattress and stuffed into a plastic bag.

They’re destroying the evidence.

Matt shivers. The hands that are running the towel over his damp hair push him gently in order to get him to lay down on his couch. And then one of his heavier blankets, one that he kept in storage for winter, is being draped over him, and he feels a little more grounded.

He’s still bleeding. His wrists and neck feel swollen. His ribs are cracked. Welts are forming on his ass and thighs. And he can feel a dozen other bruises forming over his body.

And Vanessa says, “I hope this has helped.... inform your decision, Matthew,” before she kisses him goodbye.

_______________________________________

Hours later, Matt awakes to the sound of someone pounding on his door.

It’s Foggy, and he’s yelling: "Matt! C’mon, Matt, I need to talk to you!”

But Matt is too weak to answer.

Oh my god, this was delicious <3

Author Anon:

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it :-D

Oh god, Matty..... ;_;

I like how you kind of tied it in with canon at the end there. Foggy still finds his best friend bleeding out in his apartment, but for different (and more horrible) reasons.

Author Anon:

Thank you! It gave me an excuse to re-watch the gallery scene over and over again ;-)

Oh my god, oh my god. This is the most amazing thing. Your Vanessa is so terrifying, she sent literal shivers down my spine several times.

Thank you so much for this fic.

Author Anon -

Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked Vanessa; I fretted about her dialogue a lot, haha ^^;

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Prompt Post #4

Part 4/? [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake)

Re: [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake) - Part 5/5

Re: [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake) - Part 5/5

Re: [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake) - Part 5/5

Re: [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake) - Part 5/5

Re: [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake) - Part 5/5

Re: [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake) - Part 5/5

Re: [FILL] An Acquired Taste (For a Well-Made Mistake) - Part 5/5