Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel's "Daredevil", wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Daredevil kink meme fill for: Trapped together + unwanted boner (noncon?) -Matt (as daredevil) and somebody (preferably an enemy) get trapped together somewhere and it's really close quarters and they're practically on top of each other (maybe Matt is literally laying on top or underneath the person). They're both moving around trying to figure a way out and whoops! Matt gets a boner. Matt is mortified. But the whoever that Matt's trapped with is a) really mean and b) thinks it's hilarious, so they start rubbing up against him to make him come.

Warnings: Extremely dubious consent, frottage, biting, blood/injury, adult language, close quarters, angst/drama, au on Matt and Vladimir's little night of blood and pain and snark where Matt was in the Russian warehouse with 'ol Vlad with the bomb went off. Basically, Vladimir makes Matt hate himself on a whole new level and enjoys every moment of it.

Drag me home (to the cage with all the other animals)

"In Russia, being like this – a гомосексуали́ст - is not good," Vladimir rasped conversationally. Smirking through a gargle of red he could actually hear bubbling up from the man's chest as the concrete and steel bars of the collapsed building pressed in around them. Suffocating and still. Threatening to give at a moment's notice as he threw out his senses. Searching for a weak spot. A hint of access. Escape. Something. Anything.

"For most, what a man does with another in a dark alley is their own business, yes? But for important men? It is slightly different," the man continued, voice a low, confident purr as he somehow managed to raise one of his legs a fraction of an inch higher. Tensing it so that the curl of his prick – already hard and throbbing - had something real to thrust against as he fought against the urge to bear down. Shaking himself and blinking sightlessly through yards of dark cloth as the muscles in his arms corded. Struggling to maintain that precious fraction of space that existed between them as he searched for a way out.

Focus, Murdock.

Get your head in the game.

There would be people coming. Police. Rescue. Whatever was left of the Russians. Fisk. Neither of them could be here when they arrived. There was no way to tell who the Police were working for. No way to tell whose loyalty was where or even if they could be convinced to look the other way long enough for him to drag Vladimir somewhere quiet and force the chronic pain in his ass to tell him what he wanted to know.

"Tell me, man in mask, are you important man?"

"Stop talking," he gritted, hissing through his teeth when the Russian rolled his hips, deliberately grinding their pricks as a blurt of pre-cum wet through his shorts. Oh god. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. How could- "And stop doing that!"

The man's laughter was cackling and delighted. The sound rough-edged but strangely beautiful, like the allure of a poisonous plant in the middle of an elementary school playground. He shivered at the rolling brogue, hating himself for the warmth that pooled in the pit of his belly. Focusing on trying for the sixth time since they'd woke up – trapped together in a bubble of space on the edge of the collapsed warehouse - to inch his way off the other man. But there was no space. And the dickhead certainly wasn't helping. He'd landed square on top of Vladimir when Madam Gao's Trojan horse-style bomb had gone off and save for about half an inch of space on either side, they were stuck like that.

"Perhaps when we get out of this coffin, I will let you suck my dick, yes? I think you would like this. You keep the mask on, hmm? Give me handhold to keep you in place while I fuck your mouth."

His hips jerked. Nervous system flaring hotly as the filthy words aired out. He shook his head in a harsh negative. Humiliation rising like bile in the back of his was repulsive and twisted. Corded through with sin and sickness that prickled down his skin like repulsion made flesh. Only, nothing could change the fact that he wanted it more than air.

"Stop," he growled, the timbre dropping down into something laughable and shaky as Vladimir murmured something in Russian. Caressing the syllables like the gentle slap of skin against skin, as the man managed to work a hand free from under the rubble.

He bared his teeth in warning, uncertain if the man could see it in the near dark. But it didn't stop the bloody hand from skimming down the arc of his hip. Petting at his inner thigh as the Russian clicked his tongue - teasing. He choked mid-breath - air thick with pulverized concrete and distant smoke – trying to keep his balance and slap the man's hand away at the same time. Tasting the bitter tang of fresh iron when the man's nails started etching whorls into the sliver of bare skin showing across the hard plane of his belly from where his shirt had rucked up.

"You say stop like a whore begs for more," the Russian breathed, feral and greedy as the man's lips grazed across a stubble-strewn cheek. "You know this, yes? Da. I can feel it. There is nowhere for you to hide here, man in mask. No space to run. Nowhere for you to pull away. God has made you honest, yes? Putting you here like this, with me?"

"D-don't touch me!"

But Vladimir was too quick. Apparently having no issue with the way their pricks were grinding together. Hell, the man was even hardening for the occasion – leading the charge as he forced their hips to come together again and again. Seeming to get satisfaction more out of his reaction than the situation as he buckled on top of him. Losing his balance completely as the man's breath hazed warm and stale across his cheek.

Oh god, no-

"You are a child whimpering into the dark, lusting after what you think you cannot have. A man, a real man, gets what he wants. Fights for it," Vladimir hissed. Punctuating each word with a vicious thrust of his hips, keeping it up until each roll wrenched a whimper from his lips.

"In Russia we take our pleasure by the teeth and rip out its throat. We fuck it, yes? We fuck like we live. Fast. Hard. And deal with the consequences later," the man continued, hand finding the peak of his nipple under his shirt and twisting it harshly. Making him arch, whining and desperate as whatever was left of his self-control threaded out like mist in the morning.

He inhaled, tasting the man's arousal and the honesty behind it. Tasting the experience and surety that backed up the words as he snapped his hips down and met Vladimir thrust for thrust. Snapping his teeth in warning as his back rasped across the concrete ceiling. Wanting more than anything to listen to that dark little voice that demanded that he flip Vladimir on his back and just rut into him. To take what he was being offered and make him pay for it – no, feel it - for days afterward.

"So, what are you, man in mask?" Vladimir sneered, fingers knotting in the back of his mask like a threat. Ignoring the elbow he didn't remember wrenching down to press against the Russian's throat. "A boy fumbling under the sheets with his own prick? Or a man willing to take what he wants?"

He saw red and sunk his teeth into Vladimir's neck. Keeping them there until they both saw static. Until Vladimir's surprised roar of pleasure resounded through sinew and bone. Until he thought the aftershocks might just kill them both as the Russian's blood trickled down his throat and Vladimir growled. Purring and sated – stretching out like a feral cat underneath him - as the realization of what he'd done filtered through the continuing waves of pleasure like holy water poisoned.

Tainted and cold to the soul.

A/N: Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed. I wrote this in an hour and have no excuse for myself. - This story is now complete.

Reference:

* гомосексуали́ст: Russian word for "homosexual," "gay," "queer" – or at least that is what the internet tells me.