Some. Certainly not all. I didn't have time to take in everything because it was all in the middle of chaos and then after you and after Fisk, I just tried to push forward so I didn't return to the tapes. He was in jail, you were put away and I thought that was going to be the last of us in each other's lives. I'm starting to worry a little about my apparent influence on people. Between you and the people who decided to put on masks, I'm not sure I'm doing a great job.
That's about the same thing, yeah. He didn't talk about whether those people could be reformed. Only that I need to be careful of them.
He was a good man, you know. That priest you killed. Certainly better than either one of us would ever be. Not that I expect any of that to matter or anything but it was a horrific thing to do and the cop was right about that. I think there can be differences between monsters and monstrous acts but I'm not always sure where you fall because, like you said, you're held on the leash by fear of consequences. And now that there are seemingly none, what happens?
You're a Catholic. You should know that saying: "Man makes plans. God laughs." Fisk was never going to be done with either of us after all that. And here we are.
I mean I'm attempting to find a way to do better than before, so clearly that influence is a good thing. At least in my case.
What was his name? The priest?
[It said something right there that Dex had never even bothered to learn the name of his victim in the church. Had hardly given him a second thought until he realized he really was a monster, killing someone innocent for no reason at all. And for what? He hadn't even completed the task Fisk had sent him there for in the first place. It had truly been a pointless death.]
I don't know. I'm making this up as I go along. All I'd been thinking about for a year was revenge on both the Fisks but that didn't go as planned either. I'm beginning to think whenever I have an idea in mind, I should start thinking of how many people are going to get hurt. I don't care about them but it always makes things worse for me in the end whenever I do what's going to bring me the most satisfaction in that moment.
I'm well aware of the phrase. I've used it a few times myself. I didn't see his turn as mayor coming. I was ready to be able to go up against the Kingpin. I wasn't ready for Mayor Fisk.
I'm just making the point that someone who is actually at peace, who doesn't do the things I have to do might be a better role model.
Father Lantom. He helped take care of me after my father died. Not that I expect you to care or anything, but you have a particularly nasty habit of attacking all of the people I care about.
I think that would be a good idea. To stop doing what you're doing and actually consider how many people are going to be collateral damage when you do it. Maybe it doesn't come from the most righteous place, given that you're incapable of it, but if it stops you, that seems like it's good enough.
How many times have you tried using the legal system against him? None of them have ever stuck.
I don't need a saint to follow. I need someone flawed, a little messy, not afraid of me, and who doesn't hesitate to call me on my bullshit.
I think I understand now. Just a little bit what killing him meant for you emotionally.
[Whatever shred of empathy that resided in Dex had risen to the surface. Dr. Mercer dying had torn Dex up immensely as a teenager, given how she'd practically raised him by that point. He'd had so much anger being helpless to do anything while the cancer slowly ate away at her body. He could only imagine what he would have felt like if someone had killed her right in front of him.]
Having someone kill you is an easy way out. At least you're no longer in pain. When you kill someone ELSE a person cares about, you hurt them in such a way they're going to keep on being hurt forever.
It's difficult to function in a society with so many restrictions. But I'm trying to get back to a point where I can. Sometimes I think that I was just born too late. Anytime before things got really civilized in the 19th century, I would have been fine being the way I am.
I'm aware of that, Dex. I don't need the reminder that the system failed and I didn't stick the landing. I just have to operate on the faith that the next time it'll be different.
I suppose I can understand that.
Respectfully, Dex? No, you don't understand. There was a time when he was the only person I could talk to about anything and he was one of the few people who knew my secrets and kept them and some of our last words were said in anger. That's something I have to live with for the rest of my life because of what you did.
That is such bullshit. It's not an easy way out. It's the end of possibility for someone's life, to do what you do. You rob them of the chance to make someone's life better or to find peace or to do any of the things that matter when it comes to living.
"So many restrictions" as if there aren't just the standard guardrails that all society has been expected to function on. The only difference is that in the 19th century, I would've had to cross the plains to hunt you down. I still would've done it.
You know what they call doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results? Insanity.
[Given he'd tried to kill the Fisks twice now and failed, he didn't have much room to talk.]
You think I don't know what it's like to have someone I love who I could talk to about anything die in front of my eyes while I couldn't do anything to stop it? I do. More than you know. But I won't argue the point. I hurt you badly when I killed him and there's no changing that.
Even when you kill a bad person? That's how I kept myself in check for so long. I took evil out of the world instead of letting it continue on.
I'm sure you would have too. A blind sheriff sounds like a main character I'd see in a B-western. I would have made a fantastic gunslinger you must admit.
Different circumstances. Different charges. It's not the same thing every time, even if you profess to think that it is. The law can and does work and I have to believe that.
You did hurt me badly when you did that. You've got a habit of hurting me badly with the things that you do, in case you haven't noticed. We haven't even really broached the topic of the last thing you did.
You aren't the person who gets to judge if someone is bad or not, or if they are incapable of redemption or at least deserving of a different kind of punishment for what they did. You're not God.
Suppose you might've, but then the blind sheriff would've had to try to stop you. Seems like that's a theme.
Whatever my future plans are, killing him or them is not going to be part of that.
What's there to say about it, Dex? You took a job that you knew would involve killing an innocent and good person and you did it anyway with a fucking laugh. He was a better person than you'll ever be, better than I ever was and you just made that decision like it was nothing. I don't presume to think that you'll care when I tell you those things but what kind of monster murders someone who just spends his time helping people?
That removes all sense of agency from you. Last I checked, you were still a person capable of free will so don't try to sell me that one.
I'm not sure if I admire how unbreakable your morals are or want to throw something at your head for being so unbearably naïve.
[There it was again. That confirmation he was a monster, that small echo of the words that bounced around inside where he should have had a proper conscience; would have had it if he didn't possess the mental conditions he'd been struggling with for so long.]
That wasn't a good decision. Even if it seemed like the only one I had at the time. But even if I hadn't done, Vanessa would have found someone else to. She was never going to let him walk away alive.
I take responsibility for what I've done. No one has killed all those people but me. But as long as I had my job, at least I knew I was only killing people to deserved it, who were dangerous criminals or terrorists. Now, the only thing I've got is my own instincts and we both know how shot to shit those are.
You could try but you know I'd just end up catching it anyway so what's the point? I believe the things I believe and you're not going to be the thing that makes me question that again.
That's bullshit. You don't get to skirt blame just by saying someone else would have done it. If someone else took that job, I could've stopped it. That it was you, that it was your methods--that's what killed Foggy.
And what makes you think the police or the government ever know all of the answers or are always right? You can't just push off on the idea that they know everything and can give you perfectly clean orders either. At some point, you need to learn how to think about those things yourself and not just wait for the orders from on high.
Keep telling yourself that. That if it had been anyone else, your friend would still be alive. But when Vanessa Fisk wants someone dead, there's no stopping it.
I never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it while I still had a job to keep me in line and out of my own head. Do you know what it's like to live with the thoughts every day that tell you killing is the best and only solution for every problem? I had a life that kept me out of trouble until every last part of it was ruined.
Or you keep telling yourself that because it seems to absolve you of the responsibility of what you did if there was someone else waiting in the wings to do it for you.
Do you think I've never been tempted to kill someone? The only guardrails that will ever work are the ones you put around yourself because those are the only ones that can't be taken away by a job or circumstance. You also say 'ruined' like you didn't have a hand in your own destruction. You consistently use passive language in discussion of what you did or what happened and it's an attempt to deflect responsibility.
[Dex had left marks on his skin that wouldn't fade but that just didn't happen to be one of them. The serious scars, the one that criss-crossed his body, weren't anything from Dex at all and had come long before he had crashed violently into Matt Murdock's life. That had been a less complicated enemy to have; it hadn't ever devolved into whatever this had become. Something strange and a siren song of all of Matt's bad choices. At least with Dex, he felt something again. Even if it was some new measure of self loathing combined with the ease of vigorous sex and kisses that bit down instead of sought sweetness.]
Don't make promises you can't keep.
[He tilted his head to capture Dex's mouth in a bruising kiss in kind. Another of those times that he could feel instead of carry old numbness]
[Dex is distracted from thinking up a reply by Matt's mouth crashing into his own again. He reciprocates as well, biting at Matt's lips as he tastes him. There is nothing remotely sweet or soft about what they do. But it's enough. At least for right now, letting Dex make a bad decision that didn't totally blow up the remnants of whatever remained of his life.
One hand moves to Matt's pants, undoing the button and zipper there before he sticks his hand in, taking Matt's dick in his hand and starting to stroke him. Dex's talents with being good with his hands didn't extend just to throwing things.]
[It's probably better that conversation between them stops, such as it is. They never really seem to get anywhere when they talk anyway and he'd rather that Dex bite his lip and make it hurt instead of trying to have some kind of talk. He doesn't want this to be gentle or romantic and he never has, and never will. Being here at all with Dex is often as much about self flagellation as it is anything else. A way of burning himself with the worst of his choices and his mistakes and it doesn't seem like Dex is ever bothered by his motivations so he won't be either.
Dex is forward and Matt doesn't mind. He tangles his fingers in Dex's hair and uses the angle and his own strength to push him backwards until his back hits against a wall. Distracting as those talented fingers are, he's not looking for foreplay.]
[Dex feels a sharp twinge in his back for a moment when he ends up smacking against the wall. Matt's strong even when he's not trying to punch Dex in the face and that's actually kind of a turn on for him. If they end up leaving a few dents in the wall during this whole match, that's all the better for him.
He arches his head back a little bit when Matt's fingers dig into his hair with a small grunt of pleasure, reminiscent of when Matt had done the same thing when Dex had asked him to come see him in prison. Even then, Dex had wanted this exact situation to happen, turned on by the fearless nature the lawyer had in the face of someone who was a natural-born killer.
He quickly slides his own pants and underwear off. If Matt wants to get to the main event that badly, so much the better.]
[Matt figures that Dex can take a little bit of a love-tap against the wall when they collide against it. He has a perfect understanding of where everything is in the room so it was a good enough space to be shoved against without anything to dig into his spine. There doesn't ever seem like there would be the possibility for anything slow, sweet or gentle with them and he will never seek it out. Not with Dex. He wants it to hurt. Needs it to. If he wanted to feel anything other than the sizzle of of his nerves, it'd be someone else that he'd be kissing recklessly in his apartment.
He tugs at Dex's hair again, enough to sting and so he can smell the salt of watered eyes, and then he lets go long enough to strip off the rest of his clothes. There's a bruise on his hip that he wears that mingles scars but he knows Dex well enough to know it won't be a turn-off. He pushes Dex back against the wall again when there is nothing between them and kisses sharply, harshly.]
[There's a pained hiss from Dex as Matt tugs on his hair again. He enjoys being hurt in this very particular way, letting it block out everything else inside of him that's always in turmoil. One of his hands is gripping Matt's right arm, nails digging there into the skin. When Matt breaks off the kiss again, Dex smiles, though it's more of a show of bared teeth than anything else.]
You can certainly try.
[And will probably succeed. Dex certainly doesn't have willpower that strong in the heat of the moment.
He cranes his head to the side and bites down on Matt's shoulder hard. He's determined to leave more than a few marks on Matt so that he'll be reminded of him for days afterwards. He wants to be in the man's thoughts as much as he possibly can be.]
[Matt hisses through the sharp immediate pain of the bite on his shoulder that will leave a bruise that he might not be able to see but he'll sure as hell feel when he moves his arm. He knows that's the point. He shoves Dex back, using more force than he would ever dare with anyone else to push him back again. His fingers dig into Dex's hips, hard enough so that there will be little crescents of his fingernails left in the wake. He leans in and brushes his lips against Dex's, soft and almost sweet except for what it is and what it means. A teasing. A push and pull.]
[Dex can feel those fingers that had been curled into a fist and socking him on the jaw so many times before this digging into his hips now. There's a shuddering breath from him at feeling Matt's lips on his and he licks them for a moment, eyes roving over Matt's body and then looking into that unfocused gaze. He fights against his feelings for a moment before speaking, his voice rough with lust.]
I want you to fuck me. To make me forget about everything else but you.
[Matt's hands learned Dex by fists and violence long before they fell into this and maybe it has made him a better, more effective lover. A strange thing to consider while they're kissing and the touch is a push and pull of lust.]
I'm not convinced that you need me to forget everything.
[It's not a no. Just an observation. Dex doesn't carry things the way Matt does. All the same, he pulls them back from the wall and toward the bed and expensive silk sheets]
[Still, Dex allows himself to be pulled toward that rather comfortable bed with its soft sheets. When he feels the edges of the bed up against his legs, he leans back onto it with a hand curled around Matt's neck to pull him towards Dex's body.
He pushes himself up, kissing Matt with that harsh, nearly desperate air that he knows is what the other man wants out of him. This made him feel alive in a way that nothing else did.]
[Dex doesn't carry tragedy and remorse the way that Matt does. Or the same kind of self loathing, for that matter. He's not sure what he gets from this since it's not the same as what Matt receives when fingers tug at hair and skin and leave bruising in their wake. He kisses Dex fiercely once they're down on the mattress and rolls them with the a fighter's ease so Dex is below him and Matt has control. That's what Dex seems to want, isn't it? So fuck it, he'll lose the last of his self respect all over again and give it to him.]
[What is Dex getting out of this? Even he’s not entirely sure. But he does know that he’s always desperate in his life to have connections he’s never quite sure how to form. But what he does know is that Matt is willing to let him stick around, even if it’s just because the sex is good. That’s more than anyone else around him is willing to do and so Dex keeps coming back like some sad, stray, and murder-inclined puppy.
He struggles a little when Matt pins him so easily but there’s no way he’s going to be able to escape that grasp. Eventually, he surrenders control to let Matt do what he wants. As for Dex, he digs in hard with his nails and bites at Matt’s skin with his teeth, wanting to leave his mark on the vigilante and give him something to remember him by.]
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Some. Certainly not all. I didn't have time to take in everything because it was all in the middle of chaos and then after you and after Fisk, I just tried to push forward so I didn't return to the tapes. He was in jail, you were put away and I thought that was going to be the last of us in each other's lives. I'm starting to worry a little about my apparent influence on people. Between you and the people who decided to put on masks, I'm not sure I'm doing a great job.
That's about the same thing, yeah. He didn't talk about whether those people could be reformed. Only that I need to be careful of them.
He was a good man, you know. That priest you killed. Certainly better than either one of us would ever be. Not that I expect any of that to matter or anything but it was a horrific thing to do and the cop was right about that. I think there can be differences between monsters and monstrous acts but I'm not always sure where you fall because, like you said, you're held on the leash by fear of consequences. And now that there are seemingly none, what happens?
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I mean I'm attempting to find a way to do better than before, so clearly that influence is a good thing. At least in my case.
What was his name? The priest?
[It said something right there that Dex had never even bothered to learn the name of his victim in the church. Had hardly given him a second thought until he realized he really was a monster, killing someone innocent for no reason at all. And for what? He hadn't even completed the task Fisk had sent him there for in the first place. It had truly been a pointless death.]
I don't know. I'm making this up as I go along. All I'd been thinking about for a year was revenge on both the Fisks but that didn't go as planned either. I'm beginning to think whenever I have an idea in mind, I should start thinking of how many people are going to get hurt. I don't care about them but it always makes things worse for me in the end whenever I do what's going to bring me the most satisfaction in that moment.
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I'm just making the point that someone who is actually at peace, who doesn't do the things I have to do might be a better role model.
Father Lantom. He helped take care of me after my father died. Not that I expect you to care or anything, but you have a particularly nasty habit of attacking all of the people I care about.
I think that would be a good idea. To stop doing what you're doing and actually consider how many people are going to be collateral damage when you do it. Maybe it doesn't come from the most righteous place, given that you're incapable of it, but if it stops you, that seems like it's good enough.
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I don't need a saint to follow. I need someone flawed, a little messy, not afraid of me, and who doesn't hesitate to call me on my bullshit.
I think I understand now. Just a little bit what killing him meant for you emotionally.
[Whatever shred of empathy that resided in Dex had risen to the surface. Dr. Mercer dying had torn Dex up immensely as a teenager, given how she'd practically raised him by that point. He'd had so much anger being helpless to do anything while the cancer slowly ate away at her body. He could only imagine what he would have felt like if someone had killed her right in front of him.]
Having someone kill you is an easy way out. At least you're no longer in pain. When you kill someone ELSE a person cares about, you hurt them in such a way they're going to keep on being hurt forever.
It's difficult to function in a society with so many restrictions. But I'm trying to get back to a point where I can. Sometimes I think that I was just born too late. Anytime before things got really civilized in the 19th century, I would have been fine being the way I am.
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I suppose I can understand that.
Respectfully, Dex? No, you don't understand. There was a time when he was the only person I could talk to about anything and he was one of the few people who knew my secrets and kept them and some of our last words were said in anger. That's something I have to live with for the rest of my life because of what you did.
That is such bullshit. It's not an easy way out. It's the end of possibility for someone's life, to do what you do. You rob them of the chance to make someone's life better or to find peace or to do any of the things that matter when it comes to living.
"So many restrictions" as if there aren't just the standard guardrails that all society has been expected to function on. The only difference is that in the 19th century, I would've had to cross the plains to hunt you down. I still would've done it.
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[Given he'd tried to kill the Fisks twice now and failed, he didn't have much room to talk.]
You think I don't know what it's like to have someone I love who I could talk to about anything die in front of my eyes while I couldn't do anything to stop it? I do. More than you know. But I won't argue the point. I hurt you badly when I killed him and there's no changing that.
Even when you kill a bad person? That's how I kept myself in check for so long. I took evil out of the world instead of letting it continue on.
I'm sure you would have too. A blind sheriff sounds like a main character I'd see in a B-western. I would have made a fantastic gunslinger you must admit.
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You did hurt me badly when you did that. You've got a habit of hurting me badly with the things that you do, in case you haven't noticed. We haven't even really broached the topic of the last thing you did.
You aren't the person who gets to judge if someone is bad or not, or if they are incapable of redemption or at least deserving of a different kind of punishment for what they did. You're not God.
Suppose you might've, but then the blind sheriff would've had to try to stop you. Seems like that's a theme.
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I was wondering when you'd get around wanting to talk about that. So let's get to it.
I didn't ever need to make those decisions before. I just did what I was told and hoped that was the right thing.
It does seem like you'd be involved with the law no matter when or where you are.
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What's there to say about it, Dex? You took a job that you knew would involve killing an innocent and good person and you did it anyway with a fucking laugh. He was a better person than you'll ever be, better than I ever was and you just made that decision like it was nothing. I don't presume to think that you'll care when I tell you those things but what kind of monster murders someone who just spends his time helping people?
That removes all sense of agency from you. Last I checked, you were still a person capable of free will so don't try to sell me that one.
Most likely. Law is what I'm good at.
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[There it was again. That confirmation he was a monster, that small echo of the words that bounced around inside where he should have had a proper conscience; would have had it if he didn't possess the mental conditions he'd been struggling with for so long.]
That wasn't a good decision. Even if it seemed like the only one I had at the time. But even if I hadn't done, Vanessa would have found someone else to. She was never going to let him walk away alive.
I take responsibility for what I've done. No one has killed all those people but me. But as long as I had my job, at least I knew I was only killing people to deserved it, who were dangerous criminals or terrorists. Now, the only thing I've got is my own instincts and we both know how shot to shit those are.
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That's bullshit. You don't get to skirt blame just by saying someone else would have done it. If someone else took that job, I could've stopped it. That it was you, that it was your methods--that's what killed Foggy.
And what makes you think the police or the government ever know all of the answers or are always right? You can't just push off on the idea that they know everything and can give you perfectly clean orders either. At some point, you need to learn how to think about those things yourself and not just wait for the orders from on high.
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I never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it while I still had a job to keep me in line and out of my own head. Do you know what it's like to live with the thoughts every day that tell you killing is the best and only solution for every problem? I had a life that kept me out of trouble until every last part of it was ruined.
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Do you think I've never been tempted to kill someone? The only guardrails that will ever work are the ones you put around yourself because those are the only ones that can't be taken away by a job or circumstance. You also say 'ruined' like you didn't have a hand in your own destruction. You consistently use passive language in discussion of what you did or what happened and it's an attempt to deflect responsibility.
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[Dex had left marks on his skin that wouldn't fade but that just didn't happen to be one of them. The serious scars, the one that criss-crossed his body, weren't anything from Dex at all and had come long before he had crashed violently into Matt Murdock's life. That had been a less complicated enemy to have; it hadn't ever devolved into whatever this had become. Something strange and a siren song of all of Matt's bad choices. At least with Dex, he felt something again. Even if it was some new measure of self loathing combined with the ease of vigorous sex and kisses that bit down instead of sought sweetness.]
Don't make promises you can't keep.
[He tilted his head to capture Dex's mouth in a bruising kiss in kind. Another of those times that he could feel instead of carry old numbness]
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One hand moves to Matt's pants, undoing the button and zipper there before he sticks his hand in, taking Matt's dick in his hand and starting to stroke him. Dex's talents with being good with his hands didn't extend just to throwing things.]
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Dex is forward and Matt doesn't mind. He tangles his fingers in Dex's hair and uses the angle and his own strength to push him backwards until his back hits against a wall. Distracting as those talented fingers are, he's not looking for foreplay.]
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He arches his head back a little bit when Matt's fingers dig into his hair with a small grunt of pleasure, reminiscent of when Matt had done the same thing when Dex had asked him to come see him in prison. Even then, Dex had wanted this exact situation to happen, turned on by the fearless nature the lawyer had in the face of someone who was a natural-born killer.
He quickly slides his own pants and underwear off. If Matt wants to get to the main event that badly, so much the better.]
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He tugs at Dex's hair again, enough to sting and so he can smell the salt of watered eyes, and then he lets go long enough to strip off the rest of his clothes. There's a bruise on his hip that he wears that mingles scars but he knows Dex well enough to know it won't be a turn-off. He pushes Dex back against the wall again when there is nothing between them and kisses sharply, harshly.]
I should make you beg to fuck me.
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You can certainly try.
[And will probably succeed. Dex certainly doesn't have willpower that strong in the heat of the moment.
He cranes his head to the side and bites down on Matt's shoulder hard. He's determined to leave more than a few marks on Matt so that he'll be reminded of him for days afterwards. He wants to be in the man's thoughts as much as he possibly can be.]
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Tell me what you want, Dex.
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I want you to fuck me. To make me forget about everything else but you.
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I'm not convinced that you need me to forget everything.
[It's not a no. Just an observation. Dex doesn't carry things the way Matt does. All the same, he pulls them back from the wall and toward the bed and expensive silk sheets]
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[Still, Dex allows himself to be pulled toward that rather comfortable bed with its soft sheets. When he feels the edges of the bed up against his legs, he leans back onto it with a hand curled around Matt's neck to pull him towards Dex's body.
He pushes himself up, kissing Matt with that harsh, nearly desperate air that he knows is what the other man wants out of him. This made him feel alive in a way that nothing else did.]
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He struggles a little when Matt pins him so easily but there’s no way he’s going to be able to escape that grasp. Eventually, he surrenders control to let Matt do what he wants. As for Dex, he digs in hard with his nails and bites at Matt’s skin with his teeth, wanting to leave his mark on the vigilante and give him something to remember him by.]
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