Safe and Mine

Chapter 2

NSFW warning! Contains dark themes, violent ninjas and explicit depiction of sex. Minors, turn back! Adults, proceed at your own risk!

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Foggy found Manuel. The young artist was badly hurt but alive. Apparently, they had been in a hurry to follow his direction to the frame. Otherwise, they probably would have made sure he could not tell anyone anything. Nobody would have dug deep. Manuel’s apartment looked perfectly robbed so that his death would have sunk into the statistics of the many unsolved robberies turned murders.

But as Foggy sat beside Manuel’s hospital bed, he found that Manuel would be of no help. For him, it was probably a blessing that he remembered close to nothing after that late night knock on his door. Foggy however was frustrated.

“Did they ask you questions?”

Manuel shrugged. “Sorry, man. I really don’t remember what they wanted. Just glad I’m alive. Thanks to you.” He frowned. “What were you doing at my house again?”

“I’ll explain later,” Foggy said while patting Manuel’s hand, meaning, as soon as I made something up. After a few minutes of mindless small talk, Foggy asked innocently, “Where do you get your stuff? For your art? Just asking for my niece. She is discovering painting as a hobby.”

A broad smile appeared on Manuel’s face. Happily, he shared his favourite addresses, a pawn shop not far from the community center sticking out.

“Believe it or not,” Manuel laughed at Foggy’s expression. “They have some useful stuff.”

“Like… old frames for reuse?”

“Yeah, like that.”

Smiling, Foggy held up his phone after typing in the addresses. “Thanks! She’ll be happy to have some starting points.”

He waited with Manuel until the doctor came. The injuries were severe and Manuel had to stay for a few days, but the doctor was carefully optimistic and she was certain that there would be no lasting damages.

After the doctor left, the night nurse, friendly but insistent, asked Foggy to leave. She offered to call a taxi but he declined. He could afford it these days, but somehow his time at “Nelson and Murdock - avocados at breadline” had shaped him into preferring the subway. Fortunately, he got home safely and at 4 am he finally could fall into his bed.



The astonished voice, the vulnerability lying in the cluelessness and the unknowing heartbeat made it even better. Only when Matt had crossed the room and pinned Foggy against his own desk, Foggy gasped and his blood rushed faster, louder.

“What are you…?”

A bruising kiss shut Foggy up. Matt’s hands slipped underneath Foggy’s shirt, roughly ripping the fabric, buttons popping off. The indignant noise that escaped Foggy, endeared Matt but left him otherwise unfazed. Chuckling at Foggy’s unsuccessful attempts to fight him off, he pushed his friend down. Easily, one hand held Foggy down, while the other unzipped his fly.

Matt all but purred when he found Foggy half-hard. Still, Foggy was struggling, but Matt’s lips kept him silent and his right hand kept him in place. The left wandered further, in search of the little pucker between the round ass cheeks.

Now, Foggy’s movements bordered on frantic, but he was no match for Matt and Matt wanted. His mouth was occupied with Foggy’s but his mind helpfully provided, “Mine”.

Matt awoke to a familiar but unwelcome heartbeat. Recalling his dreams, he was not surprised to find his boxers wet and reeking of semen. Annoyed and ashamed, he realised that his visitor could smell it, too. With mediocre success, he told himself that he could not be blamed for his dreams. Especially not by someone breaking into his home.

“Stick,” he said, trying to sound dignified despite his damp underwear. “It’s… okay, I admit I have no idea what time it is, but it is definitely too early for whatever you want.”

“Good morning to you, too, Matty,” Stick said. “We examined the frame.”

“We?” Matt asked.

“The code is incomplete,” Stick continued, unfazed by Matt’s question. “There probably is a counterpart to the frame.”


“No idea,” Stick said. “So rise and shine. You might want to check your phone anyway. It made a weird bleeping noise when it turned back on.”

That worked. At once, Matt sat up. He flinched as the movement reminded him of his soiled boxers. But fortunately, Stick left the bedroom and started rummaging in the kitchen, probably to make tea.

Matt swallowed as the automated voice told him he had missed a call. Foggy had tried to talk to him in the dead of night, most likely while the phone was charging. Cursing, Matt dialed Foggy’s number. After a few rings, someone answered.

“Mr. Nelson’s mobile phone, can I help?”


“Matty?” she exclaimed theatrically, then said drily, “Just faking surprise, your name’s on the display.”

“Where is Foggy?”

“He went to the bathroom and left his phone here. ‘Here’ being his fancy office with the large desk and the free candy that he earned after you dumped him.”

“I didn’t…”

“What do you want?” she interrupted.

“He tried to reach me last night and I… listen, Marci. Can you just tell him that I called and to call me back?”



“Exactly. I won’t tell him, I think. In fact, since I have my hands on his phone, I consider deleting your name and blocking your number,” Marci said, outright conversationally.

“Don’t you d…”

“Listen, Murdock,” she said. “You almost destroyed him with the way you treated him. I caught him when he was free falling. He is fine, great even, without you.”

“I know I haven’t been the best of friends, but…”

Her laughter cut him off. “That is one hell of an understatement, Murdock. You blew it. He is mine now.”

The last words cut through Matt like a sword. But being his father’s son, he did not react to pain with retreat but with anger.

“He is not,” Matt all but growled.

It came as no surprise that Marci was not intimidated at all.

“Oh, feral,” she mocked. “You had your chance, chances actually, but you couldn’t commit to him.”

“You talk about commitment?” Matt hissed. “Miss ‘Let’s keep it casual’.”

“That was in law school, Matt,” Marci said. “I was a child back then. But, unlike some people, I grew up and now I recognize a good thing when it’s right in front of me. And I intend to keep it.”

“Don’t talk about him like tha… Marci?”

The tell tale sound of an engaged line told Matt that Marci had hung up on him. Cursing under his breath, Matt changed his underwear and got dressed. Re-dialing would not do him any good as long as Marci had Foggy’s phone in her well-manicured fingers. Matt would have to try again later.

For now, he joined Stick so they could discuss how to track down the second part of the code.


The day started rather gloomy. Sure, the short night, the lack of sleep and the sour mood Foggy was in added to that. But September’s final notice that summer was over did not help. Fizzling rain fell from a grey sky, accompanied by a sharp wind, ripping the first coloured leaves off the trees.

Around noon, the autumn sun broke victoriously through the dark clouds. Combined with his free schedule, it was perfect for lunch break. So Foggy agreed to join Marci, but made a quick run to the bathroom before.

When Foggy returned to his office to get his coat, Marci was sitting on his desk. With a strict face and narrowed eyes, she turned his phone in her hand.

“Why did you call him-who-shall-not-be-named in the middle of the night?”

Clearing his throat, Foggy averted his gaze to hide his blush. “Don’t be silly,” he said and jested, “I deleted Voldemort’s number ages ago.”


“Okay, okay. I had a problem I thought he could help me with, but it went right to voicemail,” Foggy sighed. “I solved the problem myself. All good.”

“What kind of problem do you have aaaat…,” she checked his phone, “...two thirty in the morning that Matt could help you with? And why did you solve it alone instead of calling me?”

She winked seductively and Foggy could not help smiling.

“Nothing like that ,” he said. “Just… a case similar to one Matt and I worked on together.”

“Hmm, hmm,” Marci said.

Foggy groaned and sank into his chair. “Okay, fine,” he said. “I admit I still care about him. More than I should, because I’m stupid. But I swear, I did not give him a booty call. On my heart.”

Sighing, Marci ruffled Foggy’s hair.

“You poor dear,” she said. “He really doesn’t know what he’s got in you. Well, let’s hope Auntie Marci’s medicine will help.”

“Auntie Marci’s what now?”

“Oh,” she said with a wicked smile as she tossed his phone back at him. “Just a healthy dose of good ol’ jealousy.” Grinning, she walked to the door.

“What did you do?” Foggy grabbed his coat and hurried after Marci.

“Nothing!” She threw her arms up and sounded almost innocent. “Just told him you’re in the bathroom and get back to him when convenient.”

“That’s all?”

“Of course.”


“Foggy-bear! Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes, you have!”

“Oh, right…”


“We found the artist,” Stick broke the silence. “He apparently was attacked and is in the hospital.”

“How is he?”

“He’ll live.”

“Anything in his apartment?”

“No.” Stick shook his head. “I need you to sneak into his hospital room and question him.”

“Matt or Daredevil?”

“Hmm, good question,” Stick said. “Matt Murdock has the advantage of being inconspicuous and able to walk in during the day. Daredevil has the advantage of being a city hero which makes getting people to talk easier.”

Matt hesitated.

“I’ll go tonight,” he said. “Daredevil will.”

“As long as you don’t spend the day doing something stupid, I’m fine with that.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Matt got to his feet. He hated how right Stick was to make this comment. After talking to Marci, Matt was on edge. Since then, his notable strength was vibrating under his skin, asking, no, demanding to be unleashed. Yes, Matt wanted to hit someone, even though he knew that right now this would really mean to dare the devil, so to speak.

Because no matter if it was something truly demonic or just very human rage that was lurking inside his soul - right now, it was pulsating, threatening to burst to the surface at any moment. Matt better made sure the person ending up as his target deserved a vicious beating. And while claiming Foggy as hers put Marci in Matt’s bad books, she certainly should not pay for it in blood and pain.

The whole thing made Matt eerily grateful for Stick’s presence. Matt’s old mentor reminded him to control his anger, to wait for the night, to remember who the enemy was.

“I’ll just… make sure Foggy is safe.”

Matt did no longer hide from Stick that he could not stop thinking about Foggy and his whereabouts. The old man had seen right through him and trying to deny it was an insult to Stick’s intelligence and a waste of both their time.

“I suspect he is with the lovely lady you talked to this noon?”

“I suspect that as well,” Matt grumbled. “I’ll just check on him.”

That’s how Matt found himself in front of a little bistro. Due to the cold weather, all doors and windows were closed. But positioning himself on a bench right next to the building, Matt could hear large parts of their conversation. Mostly, Marci and Foggy talked about work, a bit about weekend plans. Nothing hinted at a relationship beyond colleagues and friends, but the permanently flirting tone in Marci’s melodious voice cut into Matt’s fragile self-control like a freshly sharpened knife.

Bile rose in Matt’s throat as he tried to swallow down his anger. Every time Foggy laughed, each time Marci purred and whenever one of them let their voice drop, a sharp impulse went through Matt’s body. It took all his will power not to jump up and interfere.

He pictured walking in. In his mind, he grabbed Foggy’s arm and dragged him to the men’s bathroom. As soon as the stall door would fall close, he’d push Foggy face first against the wall, Matt's own body pinning him there. His hands would leave no spot of skin on Foggy untouched. He would make him shiver and scream. He’d mark Foggy with teeth and cum so that everyone would know who he belonged to. Marci could listen from the other side of the door to the noises Matt would draw from Foggy’s lips.

“Oh, for…” Matt’s nostrils flared at the smell of his own arousal.

Rationally, he knew nobody else would notice. But still he felt weirdly exposed now that once more his thoughts had run away from him. It should not turn him on to think about doing those things. But it did.

Hard, Matt dug his nails into his own thighs. Reliable as ever, his old friend Pain helped to ground him and pull his mind out of the dark fantasies. Evening out his breath, Matt blocked out the conversation and simply waited for the signs of the pair leaving; the exchange of cash, the scraping of chairs and finally the ringing of the bell above the door.

Taking advantage of his superior sense of hearing, Matt waited until some distance was between him and the two lawyers. He followed them back to their office and waited. Pretending to have business in the neighbouring buildings, he spent the day near Foggy’s place of work.

A humourless chuckle escaped him at the absurdity of the situation. His thoughts wandered to Elektra. She had left him quite a lot of money, probably to give him the chance to fight without having to worry about his bills. What would she think, seeing him use this freedom to stalk his best friend?

But it was just for today, Matt told himself. After all, Foggy had been in the middle of an attack and while it was unlikely, he was more than a coincidental target, it was better to make sure. Only today.

When the warmth of the afternoon sun was fading, heralding dusk, Foggy left the building. Matt would see him home and then prepare for a visit at the hospital.

But half-way Matt noticed that Foggy was not going home. Of course, Matt had no problem following him, but where was Foggy heading? And why did Matt have the feeling that he would not like the answer?

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