my fic – oh my god, they were roommates

returnsandreturns:

i’m gonna write something really filthy to justify my blog getting marked as explicit, i guess

i guess that’s what i need to do

an unfinished dirty talk scrap i got bored with

It turns out Matt is completely filthy in bed. Foggy’s not that surprised, but he’d convinced himself in old fantasies that Matt was probably a horrible romantic. All soft touches and kisses and whispers. Not a hint of teeth. Real lovemaking.

And their first time is kind of like that, slow and sweet on Matt’s silk sheets, both of them testing the waters until Foggy asks Matt to fuck him harder and, when he’s fucking Foggy hard, Matt asks him if he likes it—not in a considerate way, more like a I already know you like it because you’re moaning for me but I’m gonna make you say it anyway way and the illusion that Matt’s a gentleman goes out the window. Which Foggy is fine with.

Because holy shit. Matt’s got stuff to say.

“You kiss your priest with that mouth?” Foggy asks, panting, sprawled out on his back with come cooling on his stomach.

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” Matt says, turning to press a kiss to Foggy’s temple.

“Yeah, it was—quite a conversation,” Foggy says, laughing softly. “It was fun.”

“You wanna keep having fun?” Matt asks.

“Tonight? I think you wore me out.”

“No,” Matt says. “I mean…I want to keep doing this.”

“Fucking me senseless?” Foggy asks.

“Yes, exactly,” Matt says, dryly, but he climbs on top of Foggy again to kiss him on the mouth and ask softly, “You want me, Fog?”

Foggy’s wanted Matt—forever.

He never expected to get him.

“Yeah, Matty,” he says, running his fingers over Matt’s jaw. “I want you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Foggy says, sprawled out on his elbows with Matt behind him, fucking him so hard that it’s hard to use intelligible words.

“You’re so tight,” Matt says. “God—take it, baby.”

Matt calls him baby sometimes.

Foggy doesn’t hate it.

“Give it to me,” he gasps, pushing back to show Matt exactly how much he wants it—and he wants it, feels more desperate than he’s ever been to have someone inside of him, someone’s hands bruising his hips.

Matt leans down to press a kiss to the top of Foggy’s spine, graze his teeth and tongue over his neck.

“You love it,” he says, breath hot on Foggy’s skin, slowing down but thrusting in hard enough to jolt Foggy forward every time so he slides on the silk sheets. “Don’t you, Fog?”

“No,” Foggy says. “I’m just putting—oh fuck—putting up with it.”

“I could stop,” Matt says, pulling out slowly.

“No you fucking can’t,” Foggy says, crying out when Matt slams back in.

“Then tell me how much you love taking my dick,” Matt says, grinding against him.

“Let me count the ways,” Foggy mutters.

matt/foggy “got lost in the game” (in honor of the britney gifset you reblogged :P)

returnsandreturns:

returnsandreturns:

theladyragnell:

This is definitely law school era–the phrase “mock trial sex bet” just occurred to me, and yeah, I think this is definitely that one. Matt and Foggy drunkenly make a bet that whichever one of them wins a mock trial gets a blowjob from the other, and refuse to back down from this bet when sober. Gee, wonder why?

I’M FEELING THIS

“Yeah, sure,” Matt says, distracted and dry, accidentally more focused on the sound of the couple having very vocal sex down the hall than Foggy, whose ego gets bigger the drunker he gets. “If you beat me, I’ll blow you.”

Foggy gets quiet and Matt catches up to his own words, mouth falling open.

“I–I mean,” he says. He might’ve been influenced by the guy getting sucked off on the other end of the hall. He’s not sure what it says about them that they’re here drinking alone while everyone else is hooking up.

And that he just offered to blow Foggy, apparently.

“Deal,” Foggy says, surprisingly firm.

“…deal?” Matt echoes.

“I win, you blow me,” Foggy says.

“And if I win?”

“Uhm, I blow you, I guess,” Foggy says, more hesitant when he adds, “Deal?”

The thing is that Matt’s drunk. And straight. And he still kind of wants to just get on his knees right now because it sounds interesting, because he’s never done it before, because he’s also heard what Foggy sounds like when he’s getting sucked off and it’s–

It’s.

Interesting.

“We can just forget it,” Foggy starts, because apparently Matt’s taken too long to imagine what it would be like to suck his best friend’s dick and has made this whole thing awkward, but Matt shakes his head.

“No,” he says, with all the confidence he can find inside himself. “Deal.”

Matt thinks about losing on purpose but he hates losing. And he’s not even sure why he’d want to lose, because winning would mean winning and also getting a blowjob that would be pretty amazing based on the things that Matt’s heard.

He loses anyway, and he’s only a little upset about it because Foggy’s going to be an amazing lawyer and he’s his best friend and he’s proud. And–well, watching him work doesn’t exactly make the idea of having Foggy’s dick in his mouth less appealing.

Which is new.

Keep reading

ALL MY DEADLINES ARE THIS WEEK BUT WHAT’S MORE IMPORTANT

Here’s the last bit

Matt doesn’t hesitate when the door shuts behind them, taking Foggy’s hand and leading him in, saying, “Sit in your desk chair, okay?”

“Okay,” Foggy echoes, nervous laughter in his voice.

Matt follows him after he sits, kneeling in front of him and steadying himself with his hands on Foggy’s knees. Foggy’s heart beats impossibly faster.

“Tell me if I should stop,” Matt says, smiling up at him before he turns his attention to unbuttoning Foggy’s jeans and pulling down his fly slowly, nerves kicking up at how clearly he can smell that Foggy’s turned on when he’s this close. It’s not abnormal, but usually it’s just part of the whole–now, though. It’s. Everything.

He takes a deep shaky breath before pulling at Foggy’s waistband, so Foggy sits up and lets him pull down his jeans and boxers down to his knees.

“Oh, fuck,” Foggy breathes. “This is happening.”

“A bet’s a bet,” Matt says.

I think I want to kiss you, Matt thinks. He’s got business to attend to first, though.

Foggy moans before Matt even touches him, just from watching Matt lick his own palm, but it’s nothing compared to the noise that he makes when Matt wraps his fingers around him. And that’s blown out of the water by Foggy moaning his name when Matt takes him in his mouth.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing persay but he’s always been a quick learner, especially with things he enjoys.

“God, Matty,” Foggy says, short of breath. “I–can I touch your hair?“

Matt pulls off, licking pre-come off his lips and laughing when Foggy lets out a soft string of swears.

“Of course,” he says, softly.

“I wanted to ask first,” Foggy says, running cautious fingers over Matt’s cheek, making him shiver. “Treat you like a lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” Matt says.

“Yeah,” Foggy says. “Yeah, you’re–definitely not behaving like one.”

“Shut up,” Matt says, laughing. “Just pull my hair.”

“…pull your–”

“Or touch,” Matt says, quickly. “Whatever.”

Both sound really nice.

He goes back down until Foggy’s dick is pressing against the back of his throat, mouth stretched around it, and Foggy slides his fingers into Matt’s hair and tugs gently. Matt follows the pull of it and moans gratefully when Foggy sets the pace, cautiously, not pulling enough to hurt even though Matt wonders how it would feel.

“Buddy, I’m gonna come,” Foggy says, pulling Matt off of him with his fingers curled at his scalp. “Where should I–”

“Uhm, in my mouth,” Matt says, finally letting a hand stray to rub over his own erection through his jeans. “I want to taste you.”

“You’re killing me, Matty,” Foggy says, but it’s with this reverence that Matt’s never even heard in his voice before. It’s devout.

Foggy calls him Matty in that voice again when he comes in his mouth, petting Matt’s hair when he swallows–not ideal but arguably worth it–and slowly pulls off to catch his breath.

“Wow,” he says.

“Wow is–accurate,” Foggy says. He sounds like he’s smiling. “Matty, could I maybe–I want to get you off, too. Do we have to make a bet first?”

Matt grins and climbs into Foggy’s lap. Foggy’s hands come up to hold Matt’s waist and steady him.

“Bet you won’t kiss me?” he offers, leaning in close.

“You’re so bad at bets,” Foggy says, happily, closing the distance to win again.

returnsandreturns:

i’m gonna try to write something fluffy for you before i fall asleep, please hold

“Can we stay like this forever?” Matt murmurs, like he’s joking but his voice is soft and he looks happy when Foggy sits up just enough to see the sleepy smile on his face.

“Library closes in an hour, Matty,” he says.

“Shit,” Matt says, a little more awake. “That was a long nap.”

It’s the week before they’re supposed to take the bar exam and Matt declared that he wasn’t leaving the library until somebody dragged him out. Foggy’s willing to drag him if necessary, but it seemed better to coerce Matt onto the floor to make the most of their time and take a nap in the quitest part of the library, using their bags as pillows.

He woke up with Matt a lot closer to him than when he fell asleep, right up against his side. Matt seems–weirdly okay with it.

“Well, you learn stuff good when you sleep occasionally,” he says, nudging Matt with his elbow and laughing when Matt makes a sad, hurt noise. “C’mon, let’s go home and take another nap.”

“No,” Matt moans, turning on his side enough to hide his face in Foggy’s shoulder. “No moving.”

“Matthew,” Foggy says, with nothing resembling heat, moving on tired instinct to pull Matt into a hug and trying to be cool when Matt hugs him back, moving so he’s partially on top of Foggy.

They settle like that for a few long moments until Matt says, hesitantly, like he just woke up, “Are we–are we cuddling right now?”

“Sure seems like it,” Foggy says, patting him on the head.

“Okay,” Matt says. “Okay, cool.”

Foggy would use a stronger word than cool but that also works.

“Thirty more minutes,” he says, yawning, “but you have to answer a question first.”

“Shoot,” Matt says, hesitantly.

“Do you really want to stay like this forever?”

Matt’s breath catches and he takes his time but, eventually, he sits up enough to get closer to Foggy’s face, which makes heat flare up in Foggy’s cheeks.

“We can’t have sex yet,” he says, a little hysterically.

“…sure,” Foggy says, almost choking. “Is that–in the cards?”

Matt groans softly and leans down to kiss him, messy and sweet, shaky fingers buried in Foggy’s hair, before saying close to his mouth, “If you want, Foggy, I want–I want everything. After we’re lawyers, though. No sex and–no more kissing.”

“One more kiss,” Foggy says, pulling Matt down to kiss him again.

“…okay, maybe two,” Matt agrees, after the first one.

matt/foggy “got lost in the game” (in honor of the britney gifset you reblogged :P)

returnsandreturns:

theladyragnell:

This is definitely law school era–the phrase “mock trial sex bet” just occurred to me, and yeah, I think this is definitely that one. Matt and Foggy drunkenly make a bet that whichever one of them wins a mock trial gets a blowjob from the other, and refuse to back down from this bet when sober. Gee, wonder why?

I’M FEELING THIS

“Yeah, sure,” Matt says, distracted and dry, accidentally more focused on the sound of the couple having very vocal sex down the hall than Foggy, whose ego gets bigger the drunker he gets. “If you beat me, I’ll blow you.”

Foggy gets quiet and Matt catches up to his own words, mouth falling open.

“I–I mean,” he says. He might’ve been influenced by the guy getting sucked off on the other end of the hall. He’s not sure what it says about them that they’re here drinking alone while everyone else is hooking up.

And that he just offered to blow Foggy, apparently.

“Deal,” Foggy says, surprisingly firm.

“…deal?” Matt echoes.

“I win, you blow me,” Foggy says.

“And if I win?”

“Uhm, I blow you, I guess,” Foggy says, more hesitant when he adds, “Deal?”

The thing is that Matt’s drunk. And straight. And he still kind of wants to just get on his knees right now because it sounds interesting, because he’s never done it before, because he’s also heard what Foggy sounds like when he’s getting sucked off and it’s–

It’s.

Interesting.

“We can just forget it,” Foggy starts, because apparently Matt’s taken too long to imagine what it would be like to suck his best friend’s dick and has made this whole thing awkward, but Matt shakes his head.

“No,” he says, with all the confidence he can find inside himself. “Deal.”

Matt thinks about losing on purpose but he hates losing. And he’s not even sure why he’d want to lose, because winning would mean winning and also getting a blowjob that would be pretty amazing based on the things that Matt’s heard.

He loses anyway, and he’s only a little upset about it because Foggy’s going to be an amazing lawyer and he’s his best friend and he’s proud. And–well, watching him work doesn’t exactly make the idea of having Foggy’s dick in his mouth less appealing.

Which is new.

Outside the classroom, they stand silently until Matt says, “Congratulations?”

“Yeah,” Foggy says. “Thanks.”

“Uhm,” Matt says, eloquently.

“Uhm,” Foggy agrees.

The following silence makes Matt contemplate jumping out a third floor window and scaling his way down to run away forever, but eventually the sound of Foggy shifting uncomfortably on his feet makes him says, “So, I think I owe you something.”

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, laughing. “You really don’t have to.”

“I’m a man of my word,” Matt says, as calmly as he can, taking Foggy’s arm, tugging him gently toward the elevator.

“You’re not even into guys, Matty,” Foggy says. “Are you?”

All signs point to Matt being into Foggy, a feeling he hasn’t quite been able to name before faced with the possibility of having sex with him because he’s stupid and oblivious and–straight? But–Foggy’s a guy.

“Can’t hurt to try,” he says, shrugging.

Foggy laughs again, a little more desperately.

“You really don’t have to,” he repeats.

“Fog,” Matt says, leaning into him as the elevator doors close. “I want to.”

“…oh,” Foggy says.

Matt spends the ten minute walk back to their door half-listening to Foggy talk about anything that isn’t what’s about to happen and strategically planning what’s about to happen. Foggy could be standing or on his back or sitting on the bed or his desk chair, maybe, and Matt–

Matt would be on his knees. His brain kind of falters there but it’s because the thought goes straight to his dick.

matt/foggy “got lost in the game” (in honor of the britney gifset you reblogged :P)

theladyragnell:

This is definitely law school era–the phrase “mock trial sex bet” just occurred to me, and yeah, I think this is definitely that one. Matt and Foggy drunkenly make a bet that whichever one of them wins a mock trial gets a blowjob from the other, and refuse to back down from this bet when sober. Gee, wonder why?

I’M FEELING THIS

“Yeah, sure,” Matt says, distracted and dry, accidentally more focused on the sound of the couple having very vocal sex down the hall than Foggy, whose ego gets bigger the drunker he gets. “If you beat me, I’ll blow you.”

Foggy gets quiet and Matt catches up to his own words, mouth falling open.

“I–I mean,” he says. He might’ve been influenced by the guy getting sucked off on the other end of the hall. He’s not sure what it says about them that they’re here drinking alone while everyone else is hooking up.

And that he just offered to blow Foggy, apparently.

“Deal,” Foggy says, surprisingly firm.

“…deal?” Matt echoes.

“I win, you blow me,” Foggy says.

“And if I win?”

“Uhm, I blow you, I guess,” Foggy says, more hesitant when he adds, “Deal?”

The thing is that Matt’s drunk. And straight. And he still kind of wants to just get on his knees right now because it sounds interesting, because he’s never done it before, because he’s also heard what Foggy sounds like when he’s getting sucked off and it’s–

It’s.

Interesting.

“We can just forget it,” Foggy starts, because apparently Matt’s taken too long to imagine what it would be like to suck his best friend’s dick and has made this whole thing awkward, but Matt shakes his head.

“No,” he says, with all the confidence he can find inside himself. “Deal.”

WANT SOME WEIRD CHRISTMAS PORN THAT I WROTE MAINLY BETWEEN THE HOURS OF MIDNIGHT AND 2AM?

IDK Y’ALL

make the yuletide gay | matt/foggy | mikey murcock series

“Okay,” Foggy says, dropping his head back and laughing brokenly. “Tell me the truth, Mikey—whose dick do you like sucking more, me or St. Nick?”

Matt pulls off and makes a show out of considering it before Foggy tugs gently at his hair, making him laugh and say, “Fog, I didn’t even know what sucking a dick truly meant until I sucked yours.”

“That’s it,” Foggy says. “Those are your wedding vows.”

i have to save this fic for awhile but i need to post this bit:

“Fun day?” he asks.

“So fun,” Foggy says, leaning back to grab the snowman made out of craft foam and glued on macaroni that Mary hasn’t painted yet to press it into Matt’s hands, “We’re working on making all of our crafts daddy-accessible. I feel like there’s a lot of puffy paint in our future.”

Matt’s smile goes so soft when he runs his fingers over the snowman.

“I have no idea what it is,” he says, “but I love it.”

This was for a prompt but I can’t remember which one, soooooo here! Acknowledging the Foggy/Marci breakup and how Marci is better than both of them and also christening the new office.

I’m going to find a better ending and put it on AO3 later.

“That’s it,” Foggy says, closing his laptop abruptly.
“Why did we tell Karen she didn’t have to keep the books this time?”

“Excel isn’t accessible for the vision impaired,” Matt
says, lightly, for the third time.

“I googled that, actually, and it isn’t true,” Foggy
says, “but I will admit having vision to see how much money we’re losing—or
maybe earning, honestly, I have no damn clue how to use a spreadsheet—gives me
some advantage.”

“You’ve gotten by on your good looks for too long,”
Matt says, shutting his own laptop and smirking at him.

“You’re right,” Foggy says, sighing. “I should’ve
married rich while I still had my chance—before I got stuck with you again.”

“Marci isn’t going to make an honest woman out of
you?” Matt asks, actually sounding concerned.

“Oh, no, we’re parting ways,” Foggy says, laughing
softly, already wishing he hadn’t brought it up because Matt was—a factor. “I
can’t keep her in the lavish lifestyle she’s used to.”

“Marci Stahl wouldn’t let anyone else control her lifestyle,”
Matt says, getting to his feet and coming over to sit in the chair in front of
Foggy’s desk, making a concerned face that gives Foggy too many simultaneous
emotions, because sometimes he forgets that Matt cares. “What actually happened?”

If Foggy’s being honest, he’d say that Matt was the factor. But he’s not being honest.

“The usual,” Foggy says, leaning back in his seat.
“We’ve broken up four times, Matty, I wasn’t banking on it lasting.”

“Well,” Matt says, reaching out to find Foggy’s hand,
squeezing it gently before he lets it go and stands up again, going over to
start packing up his things. “I’m sorry to hear that. Now I know what our plans
for tonight are, though.”

“Taking a nap,” Foggy asks, hopefully, “and then going
to bed immediately after?”

“Getting extremely
drunk,” Matt says, throwing a smile over his shoulder.

Foggy thinks this is probably a bad idea because
there’s a whole lot of shit between them now and neither drunk Matt nor drunk
Foggy are good at navigating emotions without just outright running into them.

But he’s missed
drunk Matt and he’s pretty sure drunk Foggy missed him even more.

“Just like old times,” he says, smiling back.

After Matt dies (none of them say it, but—what else
could it be?), Marci shows up at Foggy’s apartment with a bottle of tequila and
a pint of ice cream and sits with him while he cries. It’s nice of her. They’re
still at a tenuous friends with benefits stage, so she really doesn’t have to.

When they’re both a little drunk, Marci sighs and
rests her head against Foggy’s and says, “You really loved him.”

“He was—my brother,”
Foggy says, even though it tastes wrong in his mouth.

Marci snorts but then she makes a face, turning to
press a kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry,” she says. “I just—you were never great at hiding
what you feel, Foggy.”

Foggy sighs and shuts his eyes, tipping his head back.

“Do you think he knew?” he asks.

“I think Murdock spent a lot of time with his head up
his own ass,” Marci says, and Foggy laughs despite himself, turning to smile
wetly at her. “So—probably not.”

He thinks about Matt’s crazy senses and all the things
he must have been able to hear and—smell,
but Marci’s not wrong. Matt would have to notice or care enough to put all the
pieces together and come up with Foggy’s inconveniently undying feelings for
him.

He knows Matt cares—cared about him, but it feels nicer to think that he never noticed
and not that he knew and just ignored it.

“I loved
him,” Foggy says, after a long moment, feeling paralyzed and trembling at the
same time because he’s never said it out loud before. “Shit, Marci—shit.”

“You need more tequila,” Marci says,
getting to her feet quickly, “and—Xanax, maybe, do you think tequila and Xanax
pair well?”

“No,” Foggy says, “but we may as well try.”

That night, they fall asleep curled up together and
Marci takes him out for brunch in the morning.

It feels okay even though nothing else feels okay.

They go back to the office after they’ve had a few too
many drinks at Josie’s because Matt says he left his keys there, but the moment
that Foggy shuts the door behind them, Matt’s hands find his face and he’s
kissing Foggy hesitantly.

“Whoa,” Foggy breathes.

“That okay?” Matt asks.

“I—don’t know,” Foggy says, “but don’t stop.”

He catches a glimpse of Matt’s smile before he’s being
kissed again and he wraps his arms around Matt to get closer and tries to
ignore the red lights flashing in his head that say he’s been in love with Matt
for years and this might just be a drunken hookup. He probably could have dealt
with that back in college when he was hornier and had less self-esteem, but
now—

“Wait, why—” he says, pulling apart just enough to get
the words out, “why are you doing this, Matt?”

Matt rests his forehead against Foggy’s like they’re
protagonists in a romance novel and not drunken idiots making out in a law
office that will never stop smelling like different varieties of pork.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I want to be with you, Fog,” Matt says. “I don’t want
to push you away again.”

“I know,” Foggy says, cupping Matt’s cheek. “Not about
the kissing, that’s a fun development—but I know you’re trying.”

“Let me keep trying,” Matt says, after a moment, voice
dropping low as he takes Foggy’s hand and leads him to his desk, pushing Foggy
down gently into his chair.

“Really?” Foggy asks, voice breaking.

Matt drops slowly to his knees, tipping his head up to
smile at him.

“I was going to take you out for real,” he says,
fingers sliding up Foggy’s thighs before starting to undo his fly. “Treat you
right. Make you wait for it. But…we’re drunk and we’re here…”

“Yeah, this feels right for us,” Foggy agrees,
groaning when Matt pulls his jeans and boxers down enough to wrap a rough hand
around his dick. “Jesus.”

“My name’s Matt,” Matt murmurs, before he takes Foggy
in his mouth, hollows his cheeks and sucks so Foggy makes a noise that sounds
like it reverberates off the walls. He moves his head slowly at first, one hand
still at the base of Foggy’s dick and the other rubbing circles on his thigh,
and he moans hoarsely when Foggy starts to run fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Foggy says. “I’ve been
thinking about this for a—a long-ass
time.”

“Me blowing you?” Matt asks, pulling off, mouth wet
with spit.

“I’ve had to look at that mouth without doing anything
to it for years,” Foggy says,
tightening his grip on Matt’s hair a little, feeling kind of predatory. “Yeah,
it’s come up a few times.”

Matt hums out a pleased noise.

“Pull my hair?” he says, going down on him again,
slowly taking Foggy’s dick until it’s nudging up against his throat.

“Whatever you want.”

Foggy pulls his hair and that pleased noise turns into
something low and compelling, like Matt’s a step away from purring.

Jesus Christ.

He’s really not prepared for this at all.

Marci kisses him before she tells him, one firm press
of their lips together before she takes a step back and smiles.

“Alright, kid,” she says. “You’ve got to pack your drawer
up and go back to your place.”

“What are you
talking about?” he asks.

She shakes her head, still smiling when she says, “Nelson
and Murdock. You know there’s no room for me in that, Foggy Bear—I’ve been
ready for it since Matt’s stunning resurrection.”

It still takes him a second to fully get that she’s
really talking about his feelings for Matt, his—stunningly resurrected
feelings, if he’s being honest, but he doesn’t want to be honest. He loves
Marci, too, even if it’s not quite the same. A fact but not a part of him like loving Matt is.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but
Marci makes an annoyed face at him so he sighs and continues, “Look, Matt’s
never wanted me before. There’s no way that he’ll want me now.”

“I wasn’t sure before,” she says, “but—I can tell that
it’s more than just you. Maybe having a building fall down on top of him gave
him some perspective or something, but—his face is different when he’s around
you now.”

“I don’t—he’s straight,”
Foggy says.

“Oh, god—maybe,” Marci says, stepping forward to place
her hands on his shoulders. “Look, I love you and I can admit that this has
been fucking great but—straight or not, I’m not going to sit around and watch
you pine like every other time we tried this.”

“I—I love you, too,” Foggy says, softly. He does.

“I know,” she says, sighing and kissing him on the
cheek before wrapping her arms around him. “I’m not pissed, I promise—I just
deserve more than that.”

Foggy holds her tightly and takes a few deep breaths. It
could be so easy with Marci—it was
easy—but she’s right.

“You do,” he says, stepping back slowly and letting
his arms fall to his side. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault your boyfriend pulled a
straight-up Jesus,” she says, dryly. “You wouldn’t have let us get this far if
he’d been around.”

Foggy laughs despite himself, covering his face with
his hands.

“You’re too good for me anyway, Stahl,” he says.

“You’re not wrong,” she says, reaching up to ruffle
his hair before she turns to walk to her bedroom, adding without turning
around, “I’m going to find the manliest tote bag I’ve got for you and then I
want you to fuck me one more time, like, really
hard. Sound good?”

She really is too good for him.

Matt undresses for him after Foggy comes because Foggy
asks him to—wants to finally see all of him when he’s allowed to be looking. By
the time Foggy goes out to the front to double check that the door’s locked,
Matt’s standing naked and waiting for him, looking sweet and hesitant and—perfect.

“Fuck,” Foggy says, laughing breathlessly. “Come here.”

Matt laughs, too, immediately stepping forward and
kissing Foggy.

They end up with Matt sitting on his desk and Foggy
standing between his legs, kissing roughly until Matt says, panting, “I—I want
to make love to you.”

“Make love,”
Foggy says, grinning and kissing him on the forehead. “I want that, Matty, but
I don’t exactly keep lube in my desk.”

Matt makes a disappointed noise.

“You should start,” he says, reaching up to slide
fingers into Foggy’s hair and pull him down into another kiss, murmuring close
to his mouth, “Wanna be inside you, Fog.”

“You’re killin’ me,” Foggy says, breathing out a laugh
and resting their foreheads together. “You want to put all your clothes back on
and go fuck me on your silk sheets or do you want me to jerk you off right
here, right now?”

He moves a hand down to trace his fingers up Matt’s
erection and Matt moans.

“Good point,” he says. “Do that.”

“Silk sheets after,” Foggy agrees.

“Let’s eat him,” Venom hisses.

“He spilled coffee on us,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve gotta stop keeping us up late watching Real Housewives, you get bitchy when we’re sleepy.”

“They amuse me,” Venom says, defensively.

“I’m really sorry,” the guy interrupts, “but–are you that dude with the alien? The journalist?”

“He knows too much, Eddie,” Venom says, rippling a little inside of Eddie, under his skin. “Let me eat him. He looks delicious.”

“We’ve been on the news like thirty fucking times, everyone knows,” Eddie says. “And I don’t care if he looks delicious.”

“…should I be flattered or scared?” the guy asks, smiling. It’s a nice smile.

“It’s hard to say,” Eddie says.

“Fuck him if I can’t eat him,” Venom says.

"Bitchy and slutty. Jesus.”

“Oh, I actually heard that last bit,” the guys says, kind of faint, looking surprised and–interested, definitely interested, cheeks pink. Not everyone goes for the creepy alien thing. Eddie’s. Also interested. “Uhm, I’m Foggy.”

“Eddie,” Eddie says. “I’m real sorry, they think you look delicious and we’re still working on boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” Venom says, scoffing.

“I guess I’m flattered then,” Foggy says, shifting on his feet. “Do, uhm–do you think I look delicious?”

“Oh,” Eddie says. “Yeah, we’ve–we’ve got the same type.”

waited my whole life for just one thing

Daredevil | Matt/Foggy | Explicit

Warnings: time travel induced age difference

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, faintly. “Matt, how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Matt says. “How old are you?”

Eighteen. The third thought that Foggy had after an apparently teenage Matt was sitting in normal Matt’s apartment, after two emphatic what the fucks, was how he didn’t realize that Matt looked like a ridiculously hot twink at that age when he didn’t have all the scars and scruffy facial hair and jacked muscles to compare it to. There’s something about that mouth when Matt’s clean-shaven that’s just—obscene.

He’s going straight to hell.