Tag: moonyloonylupin

about Mikey Murcock: WEDDING. NIGHT. WEDDING. NIGHT. WEDDING NIGHT SCHMOOP. LOVE AND THINGS.

OKAY, SO, I’m not doing their wedding night because I feel like I need to be able to write everything that happens around it before I do that (and I think that’s one of those things that @dancinbutterfly and I might write together, maybe?) 

So, someday that will happen, but for now, have this loosely related thing!

“I don’t even want to leave New York,” Matt says, when Foggy asks about possible honeymoon plans.

“Oh, yeah?” Foggy asks.

Matt smiles and circles his arms around Foggy’s waist.

“I just want to get an amazing hotel room,” he says, close to Foggy’s mouth, “with an amazing bed and I don’t want to get out of it for a week.”

“Can we get amazing room service, too?” Foggy asks.

“Wow,” Matt says, pulling back to give him a look, trying not to smile. “I say I want you to fuck me for a week straight and you’re thinking about room service?”

“Hey—look, you said hotel and my first mental picture was eating lobster while you sucked my dick,” Foggy says, happily, shrugging. “Or I could hand feed you—filet mignon or something. Or we could order up fancy chocolate sauce and whipped cream and I could tie you to the bed and lick it off you and really fuck up the sheets.”

“…okay,” Matt says, faintly, letting out a harsh breath. “Yeah, okay, let’s get room service.”

Foggy grins and pulls him closer to kiss him on the mouth.

“I’ve got your number, Murdock,” he says, close to Matt’s mouth, and Matt grins and nudges their foreheads together.

“I think me covered in whipped cream and chocolate is maybe more your number,” he says, and they kiss until Foggy turns his head and makes a soft huh noise.

“…you know, I think we have whipped cream in the refrigerator,” he says.

“Why would there be whipped cream in our refrigerator?” Matt asks, grinning at him.  

“For—hot cocoa,” Foggy says, speculatively. “And pie. Also, I thought about covering you with it yesterday and picked some up on the way home.”

Matt laughs. He’s normally not a huge fan of being sticky, but the thought of Foggy’s tongue all over his body completely overrides that.

“Okay, but this means you don’t get to do it on our honeymoon, because it won’t be special,” he says, letting go of Foggy to step backward and pull off his shirt, tossing it into the laundry hamper in the corner. “You get the whipped cream, I’ll get the cuffs ready. Do we have sheets we don’t care about?”

“I’ll grab some,” Foggy says, brushing lips over his cheek as he passes to head toward the kitchen. He keeps talking in a normal voice while he’s in the next room, asking, “What can we do on our honeymoon that’s special? I feel like we’ve already won sex at this point.”

“We are definitely the winners of sex,” Matt calls. “We could just cuddle, I guess.”

Foggy laughs, shutting the refrigerator before he says, “I mean, I could make love to you.”

“Missionary?” Matt asks, loudly.

Foggy doesn’t answer until he comes back with a set of old sheets, tossing them and a can of whipped cream onto the bed.

“I could undress you tenderly,” Foggy says, warmly, “and lay you out on the bed and make it slow and sweet. Make sure you know how precious you are to me–how lucky I am to be your husband.” 

Matt’s fingers curl around one of the cuffs, his cheeks going pink, and Foggy laughs softly and steps forward to take it from him and press a soft kiss to his mouth. 

“You want me to make love to you on our wedding night, honey?” he asks. 

“Yeah, Fog, I want that,” Matt says, taking both of Foggy’s hands in his, beaming at him. “Is it weird that it sounds like the hottest thing I’ve ever done?” 

“Oh, definitely,” Foggy says, “but I like weird. And I love you. Now, are you ready for me to chain you to a bed and lick every inch of your body?” 

“So ready,” Matt says, eagerly. 

I’m a super huge fan of Matt and Foggy getting high and making out, if you’re feeling up to it. We’re all in this together. Thank you for your words. It’s art that the people turn to in trying times like these.

 Foggy is endlessly amused by the fact that Matt can
always find where he hides his stash, and Matt lets him think it’s just a good
nose and intuition. Doesn’t want to ruin the magic. And, also, their friendship
and maybe his entire life. Anyway, technically, it’s true—Matt has a really good nose.

He pretends like it takes effort and then steps up
onto his desk and shifts the ceiling tile above it, pulling out the Tupperware container.

“You’re like a drug sniffing dog,” Foggy says,
laughing when Matt barks dryly and climbs down to join him on his bed, passing
off the container. Foggy’s mom sent cookies home with him once in it and then
it got repurposed for less legal means; it still kind of smells like vanilla.

He leans against Foggy while Foggy packs a bowl, shuts
his eyes until Foggy nudges him and says, “Hey, first hit?”

Matt takes the pipe from him, rubs his thumb over the
smooth glass.

“Do you want to, uhm—do what we did last time?” he
asks.

“What?” Foggy asks.

“Uhm,” Matt says, then reaches his hand out for the
lighter, breathes in deep before he leans in to press his lips to Foggy’s.
Foggy’s mouth opens on a gasp, and he breathes in the smoke that Matt breathes
out, one hand clenching on Matt’s arm. When they pull apart, Matt says,
laughing softly, “That?”

“Yeah,” Foggy
says, shifting closer and swallowing hard. “We can do that.”

It’s kind of all Matt’s been thinking about since last
week, when they chased beer with weed and Foggy tackled Matt to share the last
good hit by slotting their mouths together.

They switch off until Matt’s drifting and unfocused,
fingers fascinated by the texture of Foggy’s hair, messing with his split ends.
He’s idly aware that he’s hard, and he thinks Foggy might be, too—wonders if
maybe Foggy wants to do something about it.

“Okay, you look like you’ve had enough,” Foggy says,
sounding amused as he leans over Matt to sit the pipe down on his bedside
table. Matt stops him halfway when he moves back, so Foggy’s hand is on his
shoulder and Matt can reach up to touch his hair.

“One more time?” he asks, softly.

“Oh,” Foggy says. “Yeah, I can—”

He starts to move again but Matt slides his fingers to
the back of Foggy’s head and pulls him down to press their lips together. They
didn’t do this last time, but he wanted to, and he thinks Foggy did, too,
because he kisses him back now, cups Matt’s face in his hand and touches their
tongues together tentatively. He moans softly when Matt opens his mouth for
him, moves to lay down and pull Foggy down on top of him at the same time.

“Okay, buddy, wow,” Foggy says, pulling back to pat
Matt’s face, tentatively. “This is really happening, right?”

“Yes,” Matt says, laughing then adding, too quickly. “If
you—want to, I mean. I thought you might, and I—I wanted to. I want to.”

“You want to?” Foggy asks, stroking fingers through
his hair. Matt takes a moment to take everything in, the smoke still in the
air, the feel of Foggy’s body on top of him, the sound of Foggy’s heart.

“I want you,” Matt says, because he feels stupid and
brave and good.

Foggy leans down to kiss his cheek, his nose, right
between Matt’s eyes, so Matt laughs and wraps his arms around him, angling his
head up so Foggy finally kisses him softly on the mouth.

“You can have me,” Foggy says, happily.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started