Midnight
To be completely honest, Matt is a bit angry. Of course, Matt is angry very often, but rarely at Foggy. But right now, with Foggy being so reckless and endangering himself, Matt can’t help being mad at Foggy.
Matt knows it’s hypocritical. Because he encourages said recklessness with lips and hands. Eating up Foggy’s soft noises, Matt seeks to draw out more of them. His fingers dance across soft skin and inviting curves while his muscled body keeps Foggy down. Foggy moans and offers his throat. Mesmerized, Matt follows the steady drum of the vulnerable, bared pulse point to nip and lick and kiss. A delicious whine falls from Foggy’s lips and a shudder goes through his whole ample form.
Jealousy joins the anger. Because it’s not Matt Foggy gives these sounds and movements to. It’s underneath Daredevil that Foggy groans and sighs and trembles. Actually, Matt should stop this. He doesn’t want Foggy to be taken by Daredevil and Foggy doesn’t know he is going to be taken by Matt. But it’s so very tempting and Matt has wanted Foggy for so long.
Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on the amount of common sense one has -, Matt is very pathetic so he accepts whatever he can get.
23:03
Daredevil knocks. His knuckles hit the cold, rain-stained glass. Foggy hurries over and opens the bedroom window. He greets with one syllable and Daredevil is sure he does not seek eye contact.
Wordless, Daredevil nods. He hands Foggy the file, the paper poorly protected from the rain by an old scarf.
“Thanks,” Foggy says, gratitude - if grudgingly - swinging in his voice.
“You’re welcome,” Daredevil says, keeping his voice low and dark so as not to be recognized.
For a moment, neither speaks. Sharp cold wind rushes through the open window, causing Foggy’s hair to swish over his shoulder like a soft whisper. Only the rain patters in the awkward silence between the two men, one needing the other’s help, the other desperate for the first’s approval.
Finally, Foggy sighs. His overall caring attitude apparently prevents him from leaving people in a rainstorm. It even outweighs his aversion towards masked vigilantes.
“You… wanna come in?” he asks hesitantly. “Wait until the rain stops?”
Daredevil is of two minds. On the one hand it would be risky. Foggy is his oldest friend and getting too close for too long might lead to him realizing who Daredevil really is. On the other hand, the city felt weird tonight. Quiet, but not calm. Daredevil would like to stay a little longer to make sure Foggy is safe.
“Would you turn off the lights?” Daredevil asks. “I’d like to keep incognito.”
“If it helps,” Foggy says drily. Daredevil does not miss the muttered “Drama Queen” and he is sure, if not for the thunderous noise of the falling rain, he could hear Foggy’s eyes roll.
But Foggy obediently walks to the light switch. His bare feet pad across the wooden floor of the bedroom and soon the electric humming stops. Only the streetlamps will fall into the room now.
“Thank you,” Daredevil says and slips in.
23:38
“Without the methods you detest so much, Mr. Nelson, you wouldn’t have the file,” Daredevil says, low-voiced. “A bit of gratitude might be appropriate.”
“I’m grateful, alright,” Foggy says, gesturing towards the papers on his nightstand. “For the fact that there is no blood on it. Wait, is there no blood or did I just miss it? Is that why you wanted me to kill the lights?”
“For one, no,” Daredevil insists. “For two, there is worse than a little blood.”
“U-hu,” Foggy mumbles. “Could be brainmatter.”
“You’re bad at gratitude, Mr. Nelson.”
“Could be worse.” Foggy shrugs. “I could be prancing on the nightly roofs in my underwear.”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Daredevil grabs his own knees painfully. This will be a long night.
23:52
“I’m just saying, Mr. Nelson,” Daredevil growls as he gets up. “If I’m so dangerous, you maybe shouldn’t provoke me.”
Foggy stands as well, bravely holding his ground. “Don’t think I’m scared of you.”
Daredevil barely tames the smile, daring to form on his lips. Slow but determined, he stalks towards Foggy who instinctively takes a step back. The movement betrays his facade of bravado and Daredevils can’t hold back the grin. Steadily, he walks Foggy against the wall. Then Daredevil just stands there, towering over Foggy. But Foggy is nothing if not stubborn and surely won’t back down.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he says “Just because you’re… very tall and flex those… impressive muscles.”
Heat flares up in Foggy’s cheeks. Daredevil is not sure it’s all anger.
“You’re sure, counselor?” Daredevil asks. “After all, I'm an unpredictable vigilante.”
Foggy lifts his hands and pokes a finger into Daredevil’s chest.
“You don’t get to claim to be the good guy and intimidate people who disagree with you.”
“I don’t mind disagreement, but the disrespect is annoying.”
“Oh please! You see disrespect in my objections because deep down you know your methods are questionable at best.”
“Spoken like a true lawyer!”
“Well, I am a lawyer. That’s what I do.”
Humming thoughtfully, Daredevil grabs the hand on his chest. “Fair enough. But maybe this,” he presses himself harder against Foggy, “is what I do.”
“Aggressive Neanderthal.”
“Ungrateful brat.”
23:57
One hand tangled in Foggy’s silky hair, the other laying softly against Foggy’s throat, Matt moves his lips desperately against Foggy’s, groaning and demanding. This is such a bad idea.
0:11
Matt’s black disguise has disappeared. It’s lying somewhere on the floor and he can worry about getting it back on later. While he should feel ridiculous, wearing nothing but the mask, he can’t bring himself to care. Not only about the mask. All his concerns have been thrown out of the metaphorical window.
With the decision made, there is no holding back. Matt’s fingers dig into soft flesh while his lips all but devour Foggy’s mouth. Pleased but not really surprised, Matt notes that Foggy likes it that way. Even the rare little hisses of pain transform into a sound of arousal fast enough.
And Foggy gives as good as he gets. Matt marks his throat, Foggy bites Matt’s lips. Matt pulls his hair, Foggy’s nails scratch along Matt’s back. All the while their groins are rolling against each other, skin slapping, erections brushing.
But foreplay is just that and Matt wants more. After one last bruising kiss, Matt takes a hold of Foggy’s broad hips and flips him around. Foggy makes an adorable noise, somewhere between surprise, indignation and hornyness and Matt has to stop himself from laughing out loudly and fondly. Instead, he breathes a dark chuckle into Foggy’s ear.
“Oh! Sorry, darling,” he whispers. “Did you think I’d be sweet with you?”
Foggy’s voice is muffled by the mattress, but his answer doesn’t fail to make Matt smile.
“Can’t say I did much thinking in the last minutes,” he says.
With a smug grin, Matt reaches for the nightstand. As expected, he finds a bottle of lube and some condoms.
“Aww, sweetheart,” he cooes. “You can think of me. Tomorrow. Everytime you sit down.”
The words cause a full one body shudder in Foggy and draw out a long groan.
“Fuck,” he says.
And Matt can’t help thinking, Isn’t that right?
0:45
Matt can’t rule out this is a dream. So overwhelmed by sensations, he can hardly think and try to make sense of things. The smell of sex and sweat and Foggy fills Matt’s nostrils, his heartbeat and the rush of his blood fills Matt’s ears. Matt’s hands hold Foggy down by the wrists, his groin is flush against Foggy’s plump bottom and his cock is surrounded by tight wet heat. All these impressions are like mist wavering around his mind and no rational thought finds its way through.
Judging by his sounds, Foggy fares no better. It’s a satisfying feeling to at least draw even. Underneath him, Foggy pants and moans, most of his words not making sense. Now and again, Matt hears a desperate “please” or “harder”. Matt complies every time because he is way beyond teasing.
His climax is approaching fast. And he’ll be damned if he leaves Foggy thinking Daredevil is a selfish lover. (Lover. What a concept.)
Gathering all his self-control, Matt holds himself back. He adjusts his thrusts, angling his hips experimentally until Foggy all but screams in pleasure. Chuckling, Matt aims at the special spot purposefully. Only a few well-placed hits are needed now.
Foggy keens. He goes taut and his walls clench around Matt. Under his breath, Matt curses when his own orgasm is all but sucked out of him by Foggy’s climax.
Groaning, he collapses on top of Foggy. Shudders wrack both their bodies as they find their way back to themselves and to reality.
Damn. Reality. Matt had almost forgotten about it.
1:00
The scent of sex still hovers in the air. Sweat and semen create a heavy musky smell that will cling to Matt for a while.
Beside him, Foggy snores softly. Smiling, Matt listens to his breath and heartbeat, both steady and peaceful. Lovely. Matt has tucked Foggy in and now sits on the bed in a Lotus position, thinking.
What now?
He should probably just go. Get into his suit, maybe leave a note… damn, no. No note, Foggy would recognise Matt’s horrible non-Braille handwriting at once. Going out in his costume to buy flowers isn’t the best idea either.
Matt sighs. Rubbing his face, he scolds himself. Who is he trying to fool? There is no “nice” way to fuck your best friend while in disguise and leave him without a word but with an aching bum.
But it has to be done. Right?
6:16
The first thing going through Foggy’s mind is “What is wrong with me?”. He let in a law-breaking ninja, started a discussion about vigilantism with him and then bent over for him. God! What would Matt think? Sure, Matt hopefully doesn’t know about Foggy’s hopeless crush on him. But if he does, Foggy’s roll in the hay with an anonymous stranger in a mask will seem rather pathetic.
The second thing he thinks is “ouch”. The encounter wasn’t exactly gentle. But Daredevil must have some bruises to remember him by as well. The thought makes Foggy smile.
Foggy looks around. As expected, all traces of Daredevil are gone, except for the used condom in the bin and the lube, carelessly tossed on the floor.
After slowly standing, Foggy stretches his arms. It smarts a bit, he’ll be fine though. But boy, he stinks.
“Shower,” he tells himself with a decisive nod.
Then he pauses. He could swear he heard a noise from his kitchen. Quietly, he steps closer to the bedroom door and as he does, a pleasant smell reaches his nose. Coffee.
With furrowed brows, Foggy leaves his bedroom. He enters the kitchen and his eyes go wide.
There sits Matt Murdock himself in one of Foggy’s shirts and a pair of his boxers. Matt’s unfocused eyes are tired, his red hair mussed and the handsome face plastered with the trademark guilty expression. But quickly, Foggy’s attention is drawn to the reddened lips. They look bruised, but not from boxing, more as if… No!
Matt puts two cups of coffee on the table.
“Hey, buddy,” he says sheepishly. “I have to tell you something.”