i’m watching sex and the city and now i want 30-something sex columnist foggy and eligible single bachelor matt and…that’s all i’ve got but i want it
Foggy’s column is about trying out sex-related things (light BDSM! watching porn together! putting IcyHot on your bits! he didn’t like that last one) but he and Marci just ended their friends with benefits arrangement for the ninth time and he has a column due TOMORROW and he’s FREAKING OUT…
…and then his best friend volunteers to help.
this is very good
“I have to have sex with someone
on a washing machine right now,” Foggy
says, stumbling through the door at Josie’s and throwing himself into the chair
in front of Matt.“Well, time to go,” Jessica says,
finishing her whiskey and standing up.“It would be fun! I mean—probably!”
Foggy calls after her, before slumping down in his seat and moaning. “Matty, I’m
getting fired.”“Where’s Marci?” Matt asks,
amused.“She ditched me,” Foggy says, leaning
over to steal Matt’s beer, “for a Wall Street broker with a big dick and an
obnoxiously nice face.”“You’ve met him?” Matt asks,
raising his eyebrows.“Nope,” Foggy says, sighing. “She
sent me a picture and a measurement. My deadline’s tomorrow—I’m fucked.”“Well, technically you’re not,” Matt says,
laughing when Foggy balls up a napkin and throws it at him. “Come on, you write
a sex column—surely there’s somebody you can hook up with.”“I made calls,” Foggy says. “I
made ten calls. Turns out most people don’t want their sexual exploits written
about in the paper, even anonymously—who knew?”“You and Marci do have a certain unique form of
shamelessness,” Matt says. “What about Karen?”“Yes, I should just casually
sleep with a coworker and my best
friend’s ex,” Foggy says. “That’s not a terrible plan at all. Come on, I need your
A game right now, Murdock.”Matt nods and takes his beer
back, finishing it off.“I’ll do it with you,” he says, calmly.
“…excuse me?” Foggy asks.
“Well, I don’t want you getting fired,” Matt says reasonably. “Who would pay your half of the rent?” He makes a thoughtful face. “The difficult thing will be getting a washing machine. I don’t think the laundromat down the street would appreciate your journalistic endeavors.”
“Danny has one at his place, I was going to ask him,” Foggy says automatically. “Let’s go back to the part where you said you’d do it.”
“Well, do you have a better idea?”
They’re walking down the sidewalk
toward Danny’s place, Foggy’s laundry bag with condoms and lube on top slung
over one shoulder and Matt’s hand holding onto his arm, when Foggy breaks and
says, “Okay, how are you being so cool about this? I didn’t even know you slept
with men.”“I’ve been known to,” Matt says.
He will never tell Marci this, but normally, when preparing for the actual sex part of his sex column, Foggy is thinking less about the handcuffs or the whipped cream or the aromatherapy oils and more about how he’s going to write about the handcuffs, whipped cream, etc. Even while doing things that seriously entice – or intimidate – him, a good percentage of his mind is hung up on racy turns of phrase, atrocious puns, and trying to come up with a non-stupid synonym for “nipple.”
Standing here in Danny’s laundry room, though, Foggy can’t think about anything but Matt.
“I—uhm—” Matt says, laughter in his voice
even though Foggy’s clearly thrown him off which is—amazing. He doesn’t get the upper hand that often and especially
not in a way that has the blush spreading to Matt’s cheeks.“Or you could have both,” he says, stepping closer,
placing a hand on Matt’s arm.“Yeah, nothing fancy, just on my phone,” Foggy says.
Matt furrows his brow. “This isn’t a cool visual feature of your column you’ve so far neglected to mention, is it?”
“No, no!” Foggy says hastily, half laughing and half horrified. “Just…if I need to reference it later. It’s a way of taking notes without, like…” He crouches over and holds up an imaginary phone. “Siri, add to Notes: spanking isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”
“Says you,” Matt mutters, and Foggy chokes. “So it’s just for research?”
“You caught me,” Foggy says, dryly. “Want to stop?”
“Nah,” Matt says, settling in again and sighing.
“Might as well see it through.”Matt lets out a laugh that’s mostly air. “Are you kidding me right now?” he asks.
“For once, no,” Foggy says. He feels…dizzy, maybe? with the idea that Matt might have wanted this as much and for as long as Foggy did. Does. Always will.
Matt groans and tips his head up like he’s beseeching heaven for answers. Foggy’s atheist-ish these days, but he still really hopes Matt’s god isn’t watching them right now.
“Put something in me and I’ll tell you,” Matt says.
Well.
“For how long?” Foggy asks, responding to Matt’s annoyed groan with a second finger, stroking inside of him experimentally until Matt’s whole body jerks forward.
“If you don’t stop interrogating me,” Matt says, panting and pushing back onto Foggy’s fingers again, which is–Jesus Christ. It’s a lot. “The cycle’s going to be over before you actually fuck me.”
“…I don’t know, okay?” Matt says, knocking his forehead against the washing machine. Foggy’s heart stutters for a minute before Matt goes on: “I wanted you before I knew I wanted you.”
“…Yeah?” Foggy asks. He doesn’t sound as cool as he wants, but he thinks Matt’s too far gone to care.
Matt drags in a shaky breath. “I didn’t…I didn’t know I liked guys. And then you…I wanted to smell you, all the time. And touch you. I spent like a week sophomore year daydreaming about pulling your hair and couldn’t figure out why.”
There aren’t that many
situations where Foggy doesn’t have something to say–last time it involved
Matt, he was unconscious for long enough that Foggy basically had time to rest
and write a monologue. Now, though–there’s a definite time limit. He breathes
out slowly and pushes inside of him, aching at the long, broken moan it draws
out of Matt, the feeling of Matt clenching around him when he’s seated in him.
“Fog,” Matt
breathes.
“I know,” Foggy says, nonsensically, tightening his hold on
Matt’s hips and thrusting again. “I know–but–Matty, you’re–this isn’t
just fun for you, is it?”
Confusing, casual
friendship sex is what Foggy thought. Weird laundry sex with a pal you happen
to have intense one-sided feelings for. Just a guy helping another guy with his
work while naked.
“I thought it could be,” Matt murmurs.
“No,” Foggy says,
after a moment, leaning down to kiss the top of Matt’s head. “I don’t
think it could.”
“Foggy–”
“Shh,” Foggy
says. “You just hit me with a hell of a metaphor, Murdock, let me get my
shit together.”
“Fuck me while you do
it?“ Matt asks, despairingly, the smallest hint of laughter.
“Oh, right,” Foggy
says. That’s why they’re here, after all. He’s so distracted by the fact that
he thinks Matt might be in love with
him that writing his column isn’t even in his head anymore.
When Foggy really
starts to fuck him, Matt’s eager, makes
a pretty groaning noise every time Foggy thrusts into him and pushes back to
take more, his knuckles turning white when his hands clench around the sides of
the washing machine.
“You like that?” Foggy
asks, reduced to bad porn dialogue.
“Yeah,” Matt pants. “Yeah,
don’t stop.”
“Tell me what it’s
like,” Foggy says. “What you’re feeling—for my column.”
“Fuck,” Matt says,
whimpering. “With the washing machine? It’s—it’s actually interesting but it doesn’t do
much for—shit, Foggy, harder. You
know, I’m a little more interested by
what’s happening than where.”
“Keep talking,” Foggy says, slowing down. It’s helpful to get a natural reaction on tape but mostly he just wants to
hear Matt. “Doesn’t have to be about the laundry aspect. Just—talk, Matty.”
“You’re killing me, buddy,” Matt says. “You want to know what I’m feeling right now? Does that include your dick?”
“…sure,” Foggy says, reaching up on pure instinct to thread his fingers through Matt’s hair and pull his head back gently as he thrusts into him hard, making Matt gasp. “Tell me about my dick.”
oh my god, they were roommates 