This is my @daredevilexchange pinch hit gift for @context-is-for-kingpins! To fill the prompt “Only those who will go to far can possibly find out how far one can go” - T.S. Eliot. It also fills the ‘Damages’ square on my @daredevilbingo card.
It follows on from my other gift, Desolation, although the two works can be read individually. Enjoy!
Read it on tumblr, or on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139266)
Jessica wakes with her face pressed against the mattress. She opens her eyes and swipes her hair back from her face, the room sliding into hazy focus. There’s bright light scything in through the curtains and across her bare floorboards, making her squint.
Jess frowns, then rolls onto her back, the sheet twisting in her legs and impeding her progress, and she has to fight against it. Matt is lying on his back, hands clasped behind his head, eyes open and focused on some unseen middle distance. The light probably isn’t bothering him, the asshole.
Matt snorts a laugh and turns his head to her. “Wow. Am I that forgettable?”
Jess shoves him away, half-heartedly, and flails her arm over the side of the bed. Her hand knocks the neck of a bottle, and it falls on its side with a hollow clunk, then spins slowly across the floorboards and under the bed. She groans, and disentagles herself from the sheet then stands up and crosses to the door.
She glances back to Matt, who has turned his face back to the ceiling. He’s obviously still listening to her as she leaves the room to raid her desk drawer. Prize found, she pads back to the bedroom to see Matt’s now closed his eyes.
Jess drops down on the bed, jostling Matt, who grunts in protest. She leans up against the wall and taps the bottle against Matt’s shoulder, but he shakes his head.
She shrugs and unscrews the cap to take a swig of bourbon, then wipes the back of her hand across her mouth.
“You know, I saw Nelson a few months back. He looked like someone had killed his cat.” She takes another mouthful of the good (bad, very bad) stuff. “Or his best friend.”
“Fuck it.” He opens his eyes, sits up next to her and swipes the bottle. “Are we talking?” He drinks, and grimaces.
“So did you go off to find Jesus, or something?” Matt cocks his head and pauses, considering, long enough that Jessica feels an urgent need to backpedal. “No, forget I asked.” She reclaims the bottle.
“Any time you want to meet him,” he says with a slow smile, “Let me know.”
“I don’t think it’s sunk in, yet.”
They’re quiet for a few minutes, Jess watching dust motes dancing lazily through the air. Matt’s listening. He’s always listening, but he doesn’t tell her what he hears.
Eventually, he takes a deep breath and says, “I didn’t really plan anything, I was just surviving. Wasn’t thinking far ahead.” He holds out his hand for the bottle, which is emptying quickly.
“I know. But I was…” He’s looking more glazed than usual, lost in his head and sliding a thumb around the edge of the label on the bottle.
That startles a laugh out of him, and brings him back to her. “I’m no hero.” His face becomes serious again. “It was more about doing what I could, when I had the chance.”
“You almost went too far, once.”
He shrugs. “I survived. And you don’t know until you try.”
“From what I hear, that fucked you up.”
He turns to her sharply, brows drawn. “What do you mean? You been looking me up? Again?”
“Once I heard a rumour you weren’t dead, I had to be sure.” She waves a hand, dismissively, then plucks the bottle from him. “Don’t worry, Hornhead, I respected your privacy.”
She looks at Matt, still scowling, the way the light brings out amber in the stubble along his jaw, and feels a twist low in her gut. She should get curtains. Then he half-smiles, as though he knows she’s looking, and it strikes her that he’s as naked as she is.
Jess takes another gulp of the burning liquor then pulls her feet in and rises onto her knees, lifting one leg and turning so she’s straddling Matt’s legs. There’s a flash of mild surprise across his face, then he reaches for the bottle. While he has a drink, she reaches down and gently squeezes his cock through the sheet, massaging and coaxing it to attention. He jumps slightly, then leans back, the bottle in a slack hand. She swipes the bourbon again and drains the bottle before setting it on the nightstand. Then she frees Matt’s cock from the sheet, shuffles forward and presses the now-firm tip to her clit. Matt grunts in encouragement and cups her ass in his hands.
Jess leans forward with one hand on the wall above his head, the other seeking tingles of slippery warmth as she masturbates with his cock. Matt’s hands roam over her body, up and down her sides, cupping her breasts then squeezing at her hips. She slides him down, his tip just parting her labia and slipping in slightly, and he groans, his head lolling back and exposing the whiteness of his neck. She leans in and licks his neck as she strokes her hand downwards and gives his balls a squeeze, noting with satisfaction the twitch it produces.
“You still wanna fuck me?”
“Yes,” he pants. “God, yes.”
She plays with him, with herself, some more, until she’s filling up with warmth. She’s close, so close. All it will take is…
Matt has magically produced a condom, from fuck knows where, and is holding it between two fingers. Jess snags it from him, rips it open and slides it on. Then she guides his cock, takes him deep inside her with one stroke and they both gasp. She leans down and he lifts his face to hers, meeting her part way, hungry for her and kissing her firmly, roughly. He cups her face in both hands as she ruts against him, fucking him hard. She pants harder, chasing the cresting wave until she groans and there’s an explosion of pleasure, rippling through her as she surges again and again. Matt comes straight away, as though he’s been waiting for her, bucking and moaning in relief, and pulling a hilarous sex face. Jess collapses against his chest and they pant together as Matt strokes one hand down her back.
He laughs. “What brought that on?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
She lifts her head to look at him again, a sheen of sweat on his brow. It’s not like she ever knew him that well, but she’s never hated him as much as she made out. Now, in the daylight, she can see what she couldn’t by night, the sparse greys at his temples, the deeper creases around his eyes. Whatever happened to him, whatever he doesn’t want to talk about, it’s not her problem but she can see it’s changed him. Why should she care, anyway.
Matt’s stomach rumbles loudly, and they both laugh. “Got any food?” he asks.
“Do I look like someone who eats my five-plus a day?” He doesn’t reply, just cocks a questioning eyebrow and she sighs and rolls off him, sprawled on the bed.
“So, Jessica…” he begins, then stops.
“Don’t you talk for a living?”
He scrubs a hand over his face, and begins again. “I can’t drink this much on an empty stomach. So, is going to get food with me something you’d like to do, or would you rather I fuck off?”
She considers the question. All her instincts say no, that they’re both too fucked up to spend time safely together, that they’ll tear each other apart on their ragged edges. But maybe… Maybe the gains justify the damages.
“Yeah, why the fuck not?”
And Matt smiles, slow and sweet.
