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The air in this fucking tunnel felt thick with concrete dust, dampness, and the heavy, sickeningly iron scent of fresh blood. The smell was so dense it settled on the tongue with a rusty aftertaste with every frantic breath.
Matt was dragging Dex, taking on almost his entire weight. Daredevil’s left hand was locked in a death grip around the wounded man's wrist, draped over his neck. Blood from the bullet hole in Dex's left side-right in the soft tissue of his stomach-flowed continuously, soaking into the suit's fabric in hot spurts. It ran down, drenching Matt's own side and thigh in a sticky, heavy mass, squelching with every uneven step.
Dex was unbearably heavy. Every movement echoed in his body with a ragged, wheezing gasp that turned into a wet cough. Matt didn't need eyes to see the scale of the disaster: his super-hearing caught the misfiring rhythm of the other man's heart, the frantic spasms of the torn stomach muscles vainly trying to clench around the bullet track, and the rapid drop in Dex's body temperature, giving way to a feverish, sickly heat.
"Mother... fucker... Red..." Dex stumbled, his legs buckling, and his entire weight suddenly crashed onto Matt's arm. A muffled groan, full of pure, unfiltered agony, tore from his lips. "Fuck... just... drop me. I'm... done."
"Shut up, Dex," Matt hissed through gritted teeth, hauling him back to his feet with a rough jerk. His own voice was low, vibrating with tension. Through the thick concrete, he caught the distant wail of sirens and the echo of the heavy boots of Fisk's mercenaries on the upper levels. They couldn't stop. But Dex couldn't walk anymore.
They made it a few more meters before Matt realized that if he kept dragging him, Dex would simply die of pain shock or blood loss right in his arms. Gasping for air, Daredevil came to an abrupt halt near a chipped support pillar.
He didn't gently lower him to the floor. Adrenaline was hammering his nerves, and Matt slammed Dex's shoulder blades and the back of his head into the concrete wall with a dull, heavy thud, knocking the remaining air from his lungs and forcing him to stay upright. Fine dust rained down from the ceiling. Matt's right hand instantly shot to Dex's throat-not to choke him, but to brutally pin him in place, to hold him upright, while his left hand continued to frantically press down on the blood-slicked wound on his stomach.
Matt's thumb pressed into the sweat-slicked skin above Dex's Adam's apple. Beneath the stiff glove beat a foreign pulse-frantic and jagged, like a cornered animal's. Matt stood flush against him. His chest heaved heavily, brushing against Dex's chest with every breath.
Dex half-opened his eyes. His face was chalk-white, covered in cold sweat and grime, but his lips... his lips twitched, stretching into that inappropriate, broken smirk, exposing bloodstained teeth. Even now, bleeding out in the sewers, he looked at Matt like this was a game he was winning again. He fucking loved how close they were standing. He loved that harsh, possessive grip on his neck.
"Decided... to let me die on my feet?" Dex wheezed. Every syllable was a struggle, but the venom in his voice hadn't gone anywhere. He looked up at the matte lenses of the mask. "Drop me, Matt. You're dragging... a piece of dead meat. Leave... and run. At least Fisk won't get... both of us today."
"I said-shut your mouth," Matt leaned in even closer, his nose almost brushing the other man's face. Dex's hot, ragged breath settled directly onto Daredevil's lips. "You're coming with me."
"Why?" Dex laughed hoarsely, and that laugh instantly turned into a bloody cough. The muscles of his stomach twitched reflexively under Matt's palm, spewing a fresh wave of hot moisture right onto the glove. "Your... righteous ego... won't let you abandon a cripple? You just love... being my savior so much."
Matt's fingers around Dex's neck tightened involuntarily, almost cutting off his oxygen completely. He felt the Adam's apple bob under his hand.
"You don't understand shit," Matt's voice broke into a dangerous, low snarl. He hated him. Hated him to the point of his hands trembling for who Dex was, for what he had destroyed. And he hated himself because right now, instead of logical disgust, he felt this dark, viscous need to never let him go under any circumstances.
"Oh, I understand, Matthew..." Dex whispered, his dark eyes shining feverishly in the gloom. He leaned forward, right into the suffocating grip, completely ignoring the blinding flash of agony in his stomach. The distance between them vanished. "You're dragging me because we're... equally broken. You're just as much... a monster. And you... like it."
Dex didn't need any more words. He dug his weakening, blood-smeared fingers into Matt's shoulder, pulling him forcefully closer, and chased the kiss himself.
It was a collision. Dirty, starving, and absolutely desperate. No caution-teeth clashed against teeth, striking sparks of pain. The taste of copper, rust, and iron instantly flooded their mouths. Dex kissed him like he wanted to devour him, like he wanted to use this frantic bite to drain Matt of his righteousness, his strength, his very breath. He licked Daredevil's split lower lip, biting into it with animalistic greed.
And Matt snapped. All that rage, all that fear, and the dark, twisted attachment he had been suppressing for so long finally broke the dam. He returned the kiss with the same primal aggression. His grip on Dex's throat turned to steel, subduing him. A muffled, doomed groan tore from Matt's chest straight into the other man's lips-the sound of a surrender that could no longer be postponed. Matt's other hand, pressing against the bullet hole in the stomach, dug deeper into the wound out of uncontrollable tension, right into the torn flesh.
Dex let out a choked, half-moaning, half-sobbing sound right into Matt's lips. It was blinding pain spliced with a sick, gut-wrenching pleasure. This was exactly what he wanted-Matt losing control. Matt answering his violence with violence. Matt, who in this very second belonged only to him.
They were suffocating, wedged between the filthy concrete and their own madness. This kiss was the quintessence of all the fucked-up shit going on between them. Everything could be read in it: "You're mine," "I'll die without you," "I hate you to the point of nausea." Both their hearts beat in a single, ragged, frantic rhythm, echoing in Matt's ears. He could feel the fever burning off Dex against his own skin, could feel life literally slipping through his fingers straight onto the cold floor.
When they completely ran out of air, Matt abruptly, forcefully broke the kiss. He recoiled a couple of inches, panting heavily. His chest was heaving. His chin and the shifted mask were smeared with fresh blood.
Dex threw his head back against the wall. His eyes were rolling back, his consciousness balancing on the thin edge of oblivion, but a victorious, absolutely euphoric smirk remained fixed on his blood-soaked lips. He had caught his devil.
"Fuck... Red..." Dex exhaled barely audibly, his eyelids fluttering weakly. "That was... fucking amazing. And now... run..."
"I said, we're leaving together," Matt cut him off harshly.
His voice wasn't trembling anymore; it rang with steel. He readjusted Dex's limp body, throwing the man's right arm over his neck. And Matt's left hand pressed into the blood-slicked stomach with renewed force, ignoring Dex's choked cry. Matt stubbornly gritted his teeth and dragged this broken, lethal piece of shit, who now somehow meant more to him than he was ready to admit.