Sometimes Foggy shaves his legs and Matt accidentally brushes up and feels his soft legs
YES THO:
Foggy’s lounging on Matt’s bed when he gets back from
class.
“Your bed is more comfortable than mine,” Foggy says,
before Matt says anything at all.
“Our beds are equally uncomfortable,” Matt says,
raising his eyebrows.
“Silk sheets,” Foggy says, shimmying a little like he’s
making a point.
“…yeah, fair,” Matt says. They’re nice sheets. He
hangs his bag up on the hook on the back of the door before walking over to
stand next to Foggy. “Did you skip your classes?”
“Yep. Much needed mental health day,” Foggy says.
Matt absently drops his hand to pat Foggy’s leg and
tell him to get out of his bed when his fingers brush against Foggy’s calf and
he realizes that Foggy’s wearing shorts and his skin is—really smooth.
“Uh,” Matt says, leaving his hand there. “Did you—shave?”
“Huh?” Foggy asks, then laughs, heart picking up a
little. “Oh, yeah, I did it in high school once on a dare and it just felt
really great, so I still do it sometimes.”
Matt lets his fingers slide up Foggy’s leg a little,
listening to Foggy’s body react and flushing.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling his hand away.
“It’s okay,” Foggy says, softly, sitting up on his
elbows. “You can—touch me, if you want?”
Matt wants—not for the first time, but now he has permission, something outside of
guessing what Foggy’s heart was actually saying. He sits down on the edge of
the bed, listening as Foggy lies back down, then traces his fingers slowly from
Foggy’s ankle to his knee. He cups Foggy’s knee for a moment, thumbing over the
skin.
“How, uhm,” Matt says, swallowing hard, “how far up
did you shave?”
Foggy’s heart’s definitely saying something right now.
“Why don’t you find out?” he asks, hoarsely.
its not just his legs that he shaved…probably 😮
Matt slides his hand up Foggy’s leg slowly, feeling the soft skin and small goosebumps coming up under his fingertips. Foggy’s thigh is also smooth, but the texture is a little different from his calf.
“Did you shave your thighs, too?” Matt asks, trying maybe a bit too hard to sound nonchalant.
“Yeah, but only the backs and the inner sides where they were hairy. Generally speaking, most of my hair is on my head. ”
“Oh?..”
Matt moves his hand to feel his inner thigh, where he can trace minuscule scrapes left by the razor . Foggy’s heart is beating faster, and his whole body is growing warm, but his breathing is slow and he speaks in low voice; and all of it just does something to Matt. It’s almost too much, and he is sure he is going to explode. Foggy must see some of it reflected on Matt’s face, because he takes mercy:
“Okay, I’ll give you a guided tour, buddy.”
He takes Matt’s hand off his leg, and Matt feels both relieved and frustrated. He now finds his hand placed just above Foggy’s wrist and moves it up, just as Foggy narrates:
“Didn’t shave my arms. It’s a bitch to deal with when it starts to grow back, and the hair is pretty soft here anyway.”
This is safe territory: Matt has touched Foggy’s arms countless times, and he knows the sure, solid feel of them, dusted with the softest, finest hairs.
“Got rid of the beard, though,” Foggy continues. “I will leave the goatee to my evil counterpart from the parallel universe.”
That’s it, Matt thinks, don’t be a fucking coward. He reaches out, and Foggy sits up, moves his face towards Matt’s hand.
“Do you think I have an evil counterpart somewhere?” Matt asks, feeling the unfamiliar smoothness of Foggy’s chin.
He likes it, how Foggy’s cheeks and the underside of his chin are even softer now. He feels the smile just as he hears it, when Foggy speaks.
“Yeah, definitely. He’s probably called Murderdock, or something.”
“Murderdock, or something,” Matt repeats, automatically.
Foggy laughs, and his breath is hot on Matt’s hand. He strokes his thumb over Foggy’s small and plump lower lip, completely mesmerized, drawn closer. He crawls up and rubs his cheek over Foggy’s, his whole face against Foggy’s. Their lips catch for a moment, it’s not even a kiss, just a brush, and they laugh into it.
“There’s more,” Foggy says when they part, both panting now.
“Oh?” Matt asks, swallowing hard as his own heart starts to speed up.
“Uh huh,” Foggy answers, hands once again lightly circling Matt’s wrists and guiding them down…down to the waistband of his pants, finally.
But Foggy just uses Matt’s fingers to slide up under the hem of his shirt, pushing the swell of his stomach against Matt’s palms when he presses them down against the smooth skin there.
“Chest and treasure trail too,” Foggy huffs out, jolting a bit as Matt glides his hands up to thumb over his nipples.
Matt hums thoughtfully, enjoying the velvety smoothness of Foggy’s skin. HE trails his fingers slowly down, grinning as Foggy laughs when Matt dips a finger playfully into his belly button.
“Treasure trail too, huh?”
“Yep…” Foggy’s voice trails off as Matt dips his face down to nuzzle his cheek against Foggy’s belly as well. “You’re gonna get scruffle burn on my freshly shaved tummy, you wild man.”
Matt laughs an apology before turning his rubbing into a kiss. “Did you go any lower?” he mumbles into Foggy’s skin.
The breath Foggy takes pushes his belly further into Matt’s face, and Matt can’t help the grin that happens when Foggy all but groans “Why don’t you see for yourself?”
I HAD TO CONTINUE THIS. MOSTLY CUT BECAUSE EXPLICIT:
“Can I?” Matt asks, curling his fingers under Foggy’s waistband, feeling how soft and warm the skin is right below it.
“Well, you’ve made it this far,” Foggy says, softly, reaching down to slide fingers into Matt’s hair. Just that touch makes Matt shiver, centers everything on the feeling of Foggy’s fingers moving and the hum of his body underneath Matt’s hands. They’re doing this.
Foggy lifts up for him when Matt tugs his shorts down, so Matt can pull them off of him entirely and drop them on the floor. He tries to be patient, hands finding Foggy’s stomach again before he draws them down with just enough pressure that Foggy’s breath catches and he exhales with a long moan.
Matt traces down to Foggy’s hips, squeezes them gently before he lets one hand move slowly between Foggy’s legs, feeling soft hairless skin everywhere and going a little breathless when his fingers slip into the crease of one of Foggy’s thighs.
“There’s, uhm,” Foggy says, a little shaky. “Actually one more thing I shaved.”
Sometimes Foggy shaves his legs and Matt accidentally brushes up and feels his soft legs
YES THO:
Foggy’s lounging on Matt’s bed when he gets back from
class.
“Your bed is more comfortable than mine,” Foggy says,
before Matt says anything at all.
“Our beds are equally uncomfortable,” Matt says,
raising his eyebrows.
“Silk sheets,” Foggy says, shimmying a little like he’s
making a point.
“…yeah, fair,” Matt says. They’re nice sheets. He
hangs his bag up on the hook on the back of the door before walking over to
stand next to Foggy. “Did you skip your classes?”
“Yep. Much needed mental health day,” Foggy says.
Matt absently drops his hand to pat Foggy’s leg and
tell him to get out of his bed when his fingers brush against Foggy’s calf and
he realizes that Foggy’s wearing shorts and his skin is—really smooth.
“Uh,” Matt says, leaving his hand there. “Did you—shave?”
“Huh?” Foggy asks, then laughs, heart picking up a
little. “Oh, yeah, I did it in high school once on a dare and it just felt
really great, so I still do it sometimes.”
Matt lets his fingers slide up Foggy’s leg a little,
listening to Foggy’s body react and flushing.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling his hand away.
“It’s okay,” Foggy says, softly, sitting up on his
elbows. “You can—touch me, if you want?”
Matt wants—not for the first time, but now he has permission, something outside of
guessing what Foggy’s heart was actually saying. He sits down on the edge of
the bed, listening as Foggy lies back down, then traces his fingers slowly from
Foggy’s ankle to his knee. He cups Foggy’s knee for a moment, thumbing over the
skin.
“How, uhm,” Matt says, swallowing hard, “how far up
did you shave?”
Foggy’s heart’s definitely saying something right now.
“Why don’t you find out?” he asks, hoarsely.
its not just his legs that he shaved…probably 😮
Matt slides his hand up Foggy’s leg slowly, feeling the soft skin and small goosebumps coming up under his fingertips. Foggy’s thigh is also smooth, but the texture is a little different from his calf.
“Did you shave your thighs, too?” Matt asks, trying maybe a bit too hard to sound nonchalant.
“Yeah, but only the backs and the inner sides where they were hairy. Generally speaking, most of my hair is on my head. ”
“Oh?..”
Matt moves his hand to feel his inner thigh, where he can trace minuscule scrapes left by the razor . Foggy’s heart is beating faster, and his whole body is growing warm, but his breathing is slow and he speaks in low voice; and all of it just does something to Matt. It’s almost too much, and he is sure he is going to explode. Foggy must see some of it reflected on Matt’s face, because he takes mercy:
“Okay, I’ll give you a guided tour, buddy.”
He takes Matt’s hand off his leg, and Matt feels both relieved and frustrated. He now finds his hand placed just above Foggy’s wrist and moves it up, just as Foggy narrates:
“Didn’t shave my arms. It’s a bitch to deal with when it starts to grow back, and the hair is pretty soft here anyway.”
This is safe territory: Matt has touched Foggy’s arms countless times, and he knows the sure, solid feel of them, dusted with the softest, finest hairs.
“Got rid of the beard, though,” Foggy continues. “I will leave the goatee to my evil counterpart from the parallel universe.”
That’s it, Matt thinks, don’t be a fucking coward. He reaches out, and Foggy sits up, moves his face towards Matt’s hand.
“Do you think I have an evil counterpart somewhere?” Matt asks, feeling the unfamiliar smoothness of Foggy’s chin.
He likes it, how Foggy’s cheeks and the underside of his chin are even softer now. He feels the smile just as he hears it, when Foggy speaks.
“Yeah, definitely. He’s probably called Murderdock, or something.”
“Murderdock, or something,” Matt repeats, automatically.
Foggy laughs, and his breath is hot on Matt’s hand. He strokes his thumb over Foggy’s small and plump lower lip, completely mesmerized, drawn closer. He crawls up and rubs his cheek over Foggy’s, his whole face against Foggy’s. Their lips catch for a moment, it’s not even a kiss, just a brush, and they laugh into it.
“There’s more,” Foggy says when they part, both panting now.
oh my god, they were roommates 