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Applied Contract Law, 13 part 1/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

Hey folks! I decided to put this half of the chapter up now since it's done and you guys have been SO PATIENT with me (thank you so much) and it keeps getting longer and I keep revising the second half so much that it might take a while to get out. In other news, chapter 13 is going to be the last linear chapter of this series, and is going to be followed by 5 or 6 snapshots of Matt and Foggy's relationship developing in Hell and what this new period holds for the both of them. Note! This fic will be posted on ao3 once it's completely done AND will have the playlist that I've been talking about attached so keep an eye out for that. That's it from me!

The duo was able to find a relatively quiet cafe a few minutes’ walk from Foggy's new place. Their walk was mostly silent, Foggy taking in the sights and smells around him and definitely seeing what Matt was taking about when he compared Purgatory to New York.

Dave lead him up to a hole-in-the-wall shop where the idle chatter and exposed brick of the walls echoed nicely, the drinks were bordering on obscenely overpriced, and the smell of impending caffeine reminded Foggy of just how tired he was. The familiarity of the place was jarring to Foggy; he'd seen this scene many times. It was in these sorts of shops that he spent a majority of his finals weeks in.

While Dave ordered their drinks, Foggy picked his way over to an empty table, slightly away from the other patrons. He took a few moments to look around him. Sitting at the table closest to him were of three women, bickering over which of Hitchcock’s post-mortem movies were best.

It was then that Dave set Foggy's latte in front of him, starling him out of his thoughts.

As he watched his ex-coworker settle down into the seat across from him, Foggy suddenly noted how jittery the other seemed, hands fluttering over his own espresso cup and eyes incessantly darting anywhere but to Foggy himself. Despite himself, he felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry if I forced you into coming out today," Foggy started.

Dave let out a shuddering breath. "No, no, it's fine."

Foggy eyed the other before deadpanning, "It's not, is it?"

Dave gulped, staring into his cup. Despite Foggy's unasked question, he said nothing in response. The human knew he would have to take another route.

"How have you been? I haven't heard from you in a while."

The question made Dave twitch. "I've been fine," he answered carefully, eyes still on his cup, "A bit busy since L&Z picked up a few big-name clients.”

Foggy hummed in response. “I heard you’re getting a lot of business after that politician was sacked a few years ago. What was his name? Frisk? The one who wanted to gentrify Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Fisk,” Dave corrected. “Many of his… associates came to us for their cases.”

“Aaaah, that makes sense.”

The two fell into an awkward silence. Foggy took a sip from his latte and grimaced. It really was overpriced.

“Mr. Nelson…” Dave’s hesitant question made Foggy’s attention return to the demon across from him.

“That’s my father,” Foggy chided, more good-naturedly than reprimanding, “Nothing’s changed there.”

If anything, the look on Dave’s face got even more pinched. “But it has,” Dave murmured, before visibly starting at his own words and quickly backpedaling. “Not that that’s a bad thing I simply mean— I mean that your situation has changed and you—”

“Dave,” Foggy interrupted, “I’m a lawyer. Well, was, but you get the idea. My job is to tell when people are lying.” Here the human pinned Dave with a ‘please just stop’ look that had him squirming.

“Now,” Foggy sighed, “Could you please tell me what exactly has changed?”

Dave seemed to mull the question over before venturing, “You… know who that was, right? In your apartment?”

“Yes, I know who Matt is.” Foggy said, perhaps a bit sharply.

“Then you know,” Dave paused a bit, obviously aiming for dramatic, “That he’s Satan, not ‘Matt.’”

Foggy almost rolled his eyes at his efforts. “I know Matt is Satan, yes.”

Dave almost choked on his own spit, “You— you knowingly— Foggy you knew he’s Satan and you sassed him! That— That’s—”

“Reckless, ill-advised, and none of your concern.” Despite himself, Foggy felt his nerves fraying. He wanted answers; he was tired of feeling in the dark. “Now could you please tell me what’s going on? What was that production on my doorstep? What’s with this ‘homage’ business? More importantly, why haven’t you looked at me since we got here?”

If possible, Dave stiffened further. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A scream almost wormed its way out of Foggy’s throat. “You damn well do,” he accused, slipping into his ‘I’m a professional and you will treat me like it’ voice with practiced ease. “And I would really appreciate it if I didn’t have to use my apparently impressive position of power that I had no idea about until 20 minutes ago to get these answers out of you.”

Foggy’s words had the desired effect. “You’re my superior!” Dave’s panicked admission was whispered, but his eyes remained downcast. “I’m not even supposed to interact with you; you’re that high up! I mean—” Dave ran his hands through his hair, gripping tightly and exhaling shakily.

“Foggy, the Boss likes you! What did you do?”

“I made a Deal,” Foggy explained slowly, “It’s what people do with demons.”

“With demons, Foggy. Satan isn’t a demon; he can make deals and collect on them, but he isn’t bound to fulfill them. And it barely happens nowadays! You humans have a legend about the last guy who did that. You can still hear the poor bastard screaming on some floors of The Pillar.”

“Then he must have done something awful.” Foggy quipped.

“He didn’t! He just wanted to get the hang of chemistry! Which brings me to my second point.” Now that he started, Dave seemed unable to stop even at risk of being rude. “Matt, Satan, whatever you call him, he hates humans, that— that’s his shtick! Why does he like you? Why did he create a new division just to put you at the head? That makes no sense! You’re just a human! Foggy, you should have been strung out on the Rack the second you got here—” Dave’s voice here died in a pitiful gurgle, and Foggy was suddenly aware of just how many people around them had started talking.

However, the human just watched the demon as his expression slowly morphed from confused to horrified as he realized what he had just said, and to who. Foggy wasn’t above admitting that watching this particular revelation gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.

“I— I’m sorry. I was out of line.” Dave’s voice was quiet, barely a shadow of what it was a few seconds before.

Foggy just hummed noncommittally, and allowed them to fall into a silence as he took a long sip from his drink.

“OK, Dave,” Foggy said, decisively putting his latte down on the table between them, “Now that I know how you really feel, you’re going to answer my questions.”

He punctuated this statement with a smile, and the earlier satisfaction from getting Dave to crack only multiplied as he saw sweat break out on the other’s brow.

Re: Applied Contract Law, 13 part 1/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

Oooh Dave, you done fucked up there, didn't you?

Loved seeing his utter confusion and his efforts to display proper submission - right up until Foggy pushed him to display his bigotry.

Interesting to learn that Matt didn't have to fulfill his side of the deal - and I really want to hear the full story behind the last human Matt made a deal with, not just the propaganda version Dave knows.

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 14/16(?)

[(Anonymous)]

Holy moly mackeral! OP here, and I guess I accidentally deleted the update notification for this installment!

Oh, noooo, Foggy is going through what Matt went through now! D: Don't brain-bleed and die, Foggy!

He is watching a man die and a devil mourn; she is washing dishes and wishing for a dishwasher; zie is trying to get zir computer to load already, stupid thing; he wants an ice cream but not to get out of bed; they want a drink but know they'll never stop if they start; he wants his best friend to live.
- Oh, I really like this!

This was... this was harder but I had your heart familiarcomfortfriendlove to drown everything out. It wasn't enough but that was all you needed smartlovetrustfaith to get me help.
- <333 Lovesick babies ♥

He - he! He is a he! - sighs as he sinks into the memory of their first meeting; Matt's emotions guiding him through the joy Matt'd felt when he realised his roommate seemed to be... nice? Then they're in Matt's memories of Foggy's ordinary kindnesses - all of them somehow much more extraordinary when viewed through another's eyes.
- Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww...

Foggy drifts out of Matt's memory of one of their drunken nights to comment and immediately the world threatens to swallow him. His retreat back into it is half voluntary; half Matt forcing him into it. It's an odd feeling.
- ;__; Poor baby!

HungermattContentmentFearPainReliefmattScaredMommyWantChocolatematt?
- Ahahahahahaha, cutie!!

I hope your classes are going well!

Applied Contract Law, 13 part 2/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

Hello readers and welcome to the last linear chapter of Applied Contract Law!!!! Here! Have some Matt and Foggy dialogue!

Foggy took his time getting back to his apartment. He was alone now, having sent Dave on his way upon finally getting some straight answers out of the terrified man.

From what Dave had told him, the introduction of the “conflict resolution and interest management” division was the biggest change to Hell’s infrastructure since e-mail became a thing (ousting the previous system of notes written in fire on each relevant desk and booming bodiless voices sounding from the walls). Not only was this new division going to be headed by a human, but it was to report directly to Satan himself. Thus far, it had no real employees, no contacts within administration, no known purpose, and no record of ever being discussed before it was originally announced.

The memo sent out about it nearly caused a few riots. That is, until Matt stepped in and handed down his endorsement from on high, sending the message that the human being put in charge of this department was Really Fucking Important and would soon become the second worst person to cross on this plane.

So, naturally, the demonic population started Hell's biggest rat race in order to ingratiate themselves to Foggy as soon as they could.

Foggy was so close to righteous fury upon hearing this that he felt like he could burst into flames at the slightest provocation. Matt— the oddly sweet but utter moron that he was— had totally overstepped his boundaries on this.

Foggy would have been perfectly happy setting up another independent law practice in Purgatory, representing the decent people that he could and making a fair living from the ground up. But no, Matt had to make the executive decision to place him at the head of an experimental and ridiculously powerful division with no experience to speak of.

Personal sentiment be damned, this was could only spell trouble for Foggy.

Storming into his new building, Foggy cursed that this conversation would have to take place between them right after they had finally sorted through their mutual feelings for each other.

Finally making it up to his apartment, Foggy wasn’t surprised to see Matt lounging on his couch like a cat, a huge asshole cat that had a lot to answer for.

As soon as he entered the living room and came to stand in from of the couch, Matt turned his head towards Foggy, cocking his head with a troubled expression. It was obvious he knew something was wrong.

Before he could ask however, Foggy butted in, “A new entire division? Really?”

Matt didn’t look guilty. “I have my reasons.”

Foggy made a frustrated noise. “Reasons that you didn’t deign to share! When were you going to tell me about this? Were you even going to give me a choice?”

“Of course I was. I was going to tell you when you had settled in so I wouldn’t spring this on you. I didn’t know the welcome wagon would be so ambitious.” During the last muttered part, Matt had the grace to at least look a little shamefaced.

Foggy was not amused, in fact it nudged him that much closer to hysterics.

“’Spring this on me?’ Like you sprung this on the entirety of Hell? Your half-cocked, unwanted endorsement practically put a ‘I-slept-to-the-top!’ sign over my head! This is obvious favoritism.”

“Well,” Matt said slowly, patronizingly, “you are my favorite.”

The scream that had been building in Foggy all day finally broke its way out of his throat, choked and muffled behind his teeth, but still there and obviously furious. Matt’s expression flickered, confusion and worry finally making their appearances.

“That. Is not. Okay, Matt! You completely undermined my authority to make this decision and now every demon with the slightest amount of power is going to be pandering to me in order to get closer to you. I don’t want to be in that position! You’ve sabotaged any credibility I could have had here because you couldn’t get your head around the idea of a situation that doesn’t go exactly how you planned.”

Matt looked ready to interject, but Foggy just steam rolled right over him, going from scathing to downright vicious. “This was a horrible decision, Matt. It was reckless and downright shitty to your employees. And personally, I would have liked for my friend to be there for me when I got down here, not my boss. And honestly, even a slightly competent boss might have had the courtesy to tell me they were using me.”

Normally, the look on Matt’s face would have stopped Foggy in his tracks, but by now he had built up so much momentum that he wasn’t sure he could.

“I’m disappointed in you,” Foggy hissed, “I know damn well you play this game where you try to rile me up and make me angry at you; you’re hardly subtle about it. I get it, you think it’s funny. But now you’ve involved an entire realm and guess what! I’m pissed now!”

Letting out a long exhale through his nose, Foggy stormed around his (his? Was it really?) coffee table to drop into the chair there. The distance gave him some room to think through the anger roiling in his gut.

For the first time since this argument began, Foggy really looked at Matt and immediately knew something was off. He had gone from lounging to sitting up, hands gripping painfully tightly at the fabric of his slacks. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his cheeks had gone beyond pink to ruddy. It almost looked like he was—

No.

A quick glance at Matt’s crotch confirmed Foggy’s suspicion. Matt was definitely getting something out of this. But at the same time… he looked miserable.

“Don’t look at my boner when we fight,” Matt muttered, pulling a pillow into his lap and curling in on himself. Against his will, Foggy snorted in laughter at the petulant tone.

“We’ll talk about your boner later. But now I need to know just what you were thinking.”

A gut-wrenching sigh left Matt. “I just— I knew you’d be a good choice. Demons have been around long enough to form their own networks of alliances and rivalries. For the most part, I don’t care about these relationships, but recently this has been getting in the way of business.”

Matt brought up his hand to rub at the bridge of his nose as he continued. “On top of that, I recently found that many demons in charge of human location assignment have been taking bribes to extend or shorten punishment of unattached souls before they are released into Purgatory. The soul-processing system here has been compromised and inter-demon relationships are playing into it.”

“You'd need someone outside of these influences to take care of this.” As much as he didn’t like it, Foggy could see the appeal of such a plan.

“Yes,” Matt dropped his hands and began fiddling with his cushion. “The issue came to my attention a short time before we made our deal. I originally wasn’t going to do anything about it. I mean, this is Hell and Hell has always been filled with utter bastards— human and demon alike— so I thought nothing of it. But… then, you were just— Foggy, you were interesting. And you were willing to sell your soul to get justice for people who didn’t deserve you and… And it was perfect. You were perfect.”

“For the job you mean?”

Matt shrugged noncommittally, face somehow getting a bit redder. “If I was going to get someone to clear up Hell’s infrastructure, I needed someone relatively unattached to Hell’s politics and well-versed in human morality, but still good at handling demons. And if nothing else, human rights activists have been petitioning for a human high in Hell’s infrastructure for centuries.”

“I can’t be the only one suited for this.” Foggy’s voice was incredulous.

“You’re the only candidate that I liked.”

“…Out of how many?”

Matt’s silence at this was proof enough of his answer. Not sure what he expected, Foggy just sighed, “And what if I say no?”

“Then you don’t have to. You can do literally whatever you like. Every demon on this plane knows you’re under my protection.”

That made Foggy groan, leaning forward and planting his forehead in his hands. Matt wisely said nothing.

“You understand why I’m upset?”

Matt mulled over Foggy’s question, mouth twisting up uncomfortably. “With the division?”

“Yeah, let’s start there.”

Matt was quiet for a long while. “Yes,” he eventually murmured, “yes and no. I wanted to make sure you were taken care of. I never wanted you to feel like I was… using you.”

“But I do.” Despite trying to keep his voice gentle, Foggy knew that probably came out harsher than he intended.

“I’m sorry,” Matt whispered, “I’m so sorry, Foggy. I should have taken that into consideration.”

Foggy sighed. “I know you’re sorry.”

The two fell into a long silence, and Foggy weighed his options silently.

“If I go along with this,” Foggy eventually murmured, “I’m going to have to start from the ground up. I’m going to have to work independently of you and all demons in order to figure out where to start.”

Matt said nothing, but nodded.

“I’m going to have to build my own task force,” Foggy continued, “and it’s going to be mostly humans.”

Matt’s nod this time was accompanied by a grimace, but it was a nod all the same.

“I’m also going to need every scrap of solid evidence for the bribery and under the table dealings you have. I need to know what I’m working with.”

“Okay,” Matt assented, “Whatever you ask for. I’ll manage it myself.”

“Don’t let it distract you from your real job,” Foggy teased.

The humor flew right over Matt’s head. “Managing Hell is my real job. I’ll just have to spend less time in the Racks.”

Foggy hummed, “I’ll leave that to you then.”

“Does this mean you’ll…” Matt’s words were left hanging in the air, the air charged with its unasked question.

“Yes,” Foggy huffed. “Goodness help me, but yes.”

Matt nodded, short and sharp. “I look forward to working with you.”

“…it’s really hard to take you seriously with that pillow in your lap.”

Foggy’s deadpan voice made Matt huff out a self-depreciative laugh. “Sorry.”

“Hmmm… is this why you were always—” Here Matt could hear Foggy waving a hand around, probably in a vague manner “—weirdly interested in shocking me? Like in the park? Or the Cocoa Incident?”

“Not… necessarily.” Foggy’s expectant silence egged him on. “My goal wasn’t to piss you off to, well, get off but… it felt nice. Not a lot of people call me out on being an asshole, or when they do, it has permanent consequences one way or another.”

By now, Matt’s voice dropped down low enough that Foggy had to lean in to hear clearly. “You gave me the derision I deserved, and you didn’t leave. That felt good. Like, really good. Good enough that I wanted to know how far I could go and still get to— get to have you come back.”

Foggy wasn’t sure how to feel about this. On one hand, a part of him was now running over so many of their previous interactions wondering how many times that Matt felt that he had to push the boundaries on Foggy’s patience for his own purposes. But also… when Matt put it in those horribly besotted terms it sounded like he was chasing a part of Foggy he couldn’t believe he could ever have.

As the quiet space between them stretched out, Foggy found himself wondering if Matt had had anyone stick around for him after he had screwed up. Had anyone ever forgiven him? He was guessing not.

Lost in his own thoughts, Foggy failed to notice that Matt’s increasing discomfort with the silence between them. The human was getting ready to speak when Matt stood stiffly, professional demeanor firmly in place.

“I see that this makes you uncomfortable. I’ll take my leave and let you think over—“

“Sit down, Matt.” Foggy’s voice was gentle, and yet it made Matt drop to the couch like a rock.

Matt waited for Foggy to say something— anything— with the knot of dread in his chest not loosening in the least bit. If Foggy told him to leave, he couldn’t blame him. After all it probably sounded like Matt was just using, using, using him for whatever sick purposes he found fit and oh, what had Foggy ever seen in him that was worth spending time on?

Embarrassingly enough, Matt felt the burn of tears behind his eyes. He hoped that if Foggy was going to tell him to leave, he would at least do it quickly.

“I’m not going anywhere, OK?” Foggy’s words made Matt inhale sharply, and his focus shifted to what else Foggy had to say.

The tension in Matt’s shoulders did not abate. Foggy knew he would have to be more direct.

“Come here, Matt.” At Foggy’s soft command, Matt hoisted himself up and shuffled over to stand in from of the human, who remained sitting. Foggy took Matt’s stiff hands in his own and looked up into the red of Matt’s glasses.

“I’m still a bit mad with you and weirded out right now, but I’m not going anywhere. I like you too much.”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.” Matt’s tone was quiet, almost whispered between them.

Foggy rolled his eyes. “Couples fight and stay together all the time. Maybe not about the stuff we fight about, but it’s gonna happen… boner or not.”

“You’re not letting that go, are you?”

”Never.”

Matt chuckled softly. “We are though? Still a couple?”

Foggy hummed, “I certainly hope so. It took us long enough to get here. You OK with that?”

“More than OK,” Matt’s answer was immediate, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“We’ve known each other for five years. That can’t be that long for you.”

“Felt like centuries.”

“Drama queen,” Foggy pulled their hands to his cheeks, letting Matt feel his smile. “You’re impossible. What am I going to do with you?”

“Not sure. But…” Matt drawled, characteristic smirk pulling at his lips, “you have a lot of time to figure that out.”

“That’s true.”

“…hey Foggy?”

“Mhmmm?”

“Thank you.”

Foggy glanced up. The expression on Matt’s face was tender enough to make his stomach twist. Despite their shortness, he knew the implications surrounding to those two words were too big to unpack at once.

Ah well, as Matt said, they had plenty of time.

“You’re welcome.”

Matt smiled a bit wider. He was, wasn’t he? Foggy had willingly opened up his life for someone like Matt. Someone as achingly good as Foggy had found him worth of attention, affection even. Foggy had seen so many parts of Matt that he had locked up or used to push others away and came back more.

Matt was not a good person. He would never be a good person (if he even counted as a “person” in the first place). He was vain, self-absorbed, conniving, aloof, self-righteous and a host of other awful attributes.

But he was good enough for Foggy.

That was enough to make him feel the slightest bit holy again.

Re: Applied Contract Law, 13 part 2/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

good for foggy for standing his ground and explaining himself to matt about both the job thing and the state of their relationship!

Re: Applied Contract Law, 13 part 2/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

Matt getting off on Foggy yelling at him it's hilarious. Anyoen will be distrated by a boner in the room whle fighting lol.
They are a messed up couple but they are trying.

Re: Applied Contract Law, 13 part 1/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

(A!anon) aw man thanks! I'm having more fun writing Foggy being competent and Hell mythology than I thought I would

Re: Applied Contract Law, 13 part 2/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

(A!anon) communication in relationships is just so much fun to write tbh and seeing as both of these nerds are lawyers in some sense it seemed odd for them to not talk it out

Re: tiny!fill from a different anon - tiny!fill reloaded!

[(Anonymous)]

*____* here take my love anon <3

Re: Matt/Foggy - Foggy Meets Stick (Past sexual abuse)

[(Anonymous)]

please

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 14/16(?)

[(Anonymous)]

Here's hoping! =)

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 14/16(?)

[(Anonymous)]

Matt being there saved his life. Thank you! More up (hopefully) soon.

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 14/16(?)

[(Anonymous)]

Oh hey, it's okay! I've been majorly busy and not able to write so it all works out. =)

He is! Only Foggy has an advantage - Matt's on his side.

Thanks! I had fun writing that bit, trying to balance known characters with OCs.

So lovesick. It's almost sickening.

Yeah! I find it's always the simplest kindnesses that are remembered - I met one of my friends when she did what was a great great kindness to me. She doesn't remember it, it was that small of a deal to her. Which only makes it more of a kindness to me.

They are ah, going? It's crunch time so I'll be finishing up soon. I'm hoping to sneak up a part sometime tonight but if not, my classes are over in 2 weeks so I'll have time to finish this then. I'm so sorry for the delay!

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 14/16(?)

[(Anonymous)]

(OP here)

No worries! Take however much time you need! ♥ Good luck!!

Re: Daredevil/House MD Crossover - Preview Thing

[(Anonymous)]

oh god I hope you haven't abandoned this.

also, I have a theory about what it is already.

Re: [FILL] Moths and Flames [5/?] (5/7, maybe?)

[(Anonymous)]

This is amazing. Is it abandoned? D: D:

Re: [FILL] Moths and Flames [5/?] (5/7, maybe?)

[(Anonymous)]

(Author!Anon here) Whoops! Not intentionally! I just got busy with a fest in another fandom and forgot about this fic!

Re: Applied Contract Law, 13 part 2/20-ish

[(Anonymous)]

(Prompter here)

Oh my gods I’m so sorry I didn’t reply sooner. I got two jobs, had to deal with a housing problem, and relationship problems. Back now, I swear. I'm so sorry. This is SOOOOO good and I can't wait for more!

Dave almost choked on his own spit, “You— you knowingly— Foggy you knew he’s Satan and you sassed him! That— That’s—”
Ahahahahahahhaaha!

“Foggy, the Boss likes you! What did you do?”
He was just his own sweet self.

You can still hear the poor bastard screaming on some floors of The Pillar.”
“Then he must have done something awful.” Foggy quipped.
“He didn’t! He just wanted to get the hang of chemistry!
Holy shit, who’s that?!

You’re just a human! Foggy, you should have been strung out on the Rack the second you got here—” Dave’s voice here died in a pitiful gurgle, and Foggy was suddenly aware of just how many people around them had started talking.
However, the human just watched the demon as his expression slowly morphed from confused to horrified as he realized what he had just said, and to who. Foggy wasn’t above admitting that watching this particular revelation gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.
“I— I’m sorry. I was out of line.” Dave’s voice was quiet, barely a shadow of what it was a few seconds before.
Foggy just hummed noncommittally, and allowed them to fall into a silence as he took a long sip from his drink.
“OK, Dave,” Foggy said, decisively putting his latte down on the table between them, “Now that I know how you really feel, you’re going to answer my questions.”
He punctuated this statement with a smile, and the earlier satisfaction from getting Dave to crack only multiplied as he saw sweat break out on the other’s brow.
Wow. WOW. On the one hand, Dave is right. On the other, he was out of line and Foggy getting to enjoy his new status is nice.

Finally making it up to his apartment, Foggy wasn’t surprised to see Matt lounging on his couch like a cat, a huge asshole cat that had a lot to answer for.
Accurate.

“Well,” Matt said slowly, patronizingly, “you are my favorite.”
*melts*

“Don’t look at my boner when we fight,” Matt muttered, pulling a pillow into his lap and curling in on himself. Against his will, Foggy snorted in laughter at the petulant tone.
Oh my GODS.

I’m so glad they finally talked, so important. And wow, Matt playing the long con.

“Not… necessarily.” Foggy’s expectant silence egged him on. “My goal wasn’t to piss you off to, well, get off but… it felt nice. Not a lot of people call me out on being an asshole, or when they do, it has permanent consequences one way or another.”
By now, Matt’s voice dropped down low enough that Foggy had to lean in to hear clearly. “You gave me the derision I deserved, and you didn’t leave. That felt good. Like, really good. Good enough that I wanted to know how far I could go and still get to— get to have you come back.”
Oh Matt, you … you are the subbiest sub.

“Sit down, Matt.” Foggy’s voice was gentle, and yet it made Matt drop to the couch like a rock.
*fans self* GODDAMN.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“We’ve known each other for five years. That can’t be that long for you.”
“Felt like centuries.”
“Drama queen,” Foggy pulled their hands to his cheeks, letting Matt feel his smile. “You’re impossible. What am I going to do with you?”
“Not sure. But…” Matt drawled, characteristic smirk pulling at his lips, “you have a lot of time to figure that out.”
*cackles* Yes please!

Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 15/17(?)

[(Anonymous)]

So I got caught up in essays then realised I'd written myself into a corner. This is my attempt to break out of it - Next chapter should be the last and then there'll be an epilogue that is part 17. Hopefully. Sorry about the delay!

Hiding from the world in Matt's mind might be keeping him sane and breathing; but it means all his interaction with it right now is through Matt. If they'd not sent the last three days - has it really only been three days? - in each others' head it might have been maddening.

Instead it's oddly comforting. Foggy barely registers he has a body right now and he should be terrified but any fear he has is nothing compared to his absolute terror at the thought of the return of the overwhelming nothingness. How Matt managed to focus and keep himself sane for as long as he did... Well, Foggy has some serious respect for Matt's focus and training.

Thanks.. I think.

'How's he holding up?' Banner asks, as Matt heaves Foggy body into the same bed Matt had lain in, before leaning on the chair beside it. He makes sure to keep holding onto Foggy’s hand, so as not to break skin contact.

'Alive and sane,' Foggy replies, using Matt's voice to speak tonelessly.

You can speak normally.

Best to give them a way to tell us apart. Matt can still hear their hearts jump in fear every time Foggy speaks. The Avengers in the room - Banner, Stark and Hawkeye - seem extremely freaked out by the fact that Matt and Foggy are now basically two minds in one body.

'Any solutions, doc?' Foggy uses Matt's voice to say.

Matt relays Banner's sigh and shrug. 'No. We could try the same thing we did for Matt for you but either that'll drag a third person into your situation or we're risking turning your minds into a feedback loop.'

‘He can’t live his entire live in my head,’ Matt snaps.

‘Because you don’t want him there?’ Stark sounds disbelieving.

‘Because I’m not so cruel as to force my friend to live in my head for any length of time.’ Force you to experience everything I do.

It’s not so bad Foggy lies and feels Matt’s irritation at it.

‘Thor!’ Banner calls as a thunderously big man walks into the room. ‘What do you have?’

The man - Thor - takes a seat at the end of the bed Foggy’s body is in. ‘You are the brave warriors who have survived this weapon?’

‘Not sure we’re warriors-’ Foggy begins before pausing, ‘-actually Matt’s totally a warrior but I’m really not.’ A dash of life creeps into Matt’s voice as Foggy speaks of his friend.

All the Avengers except Thor flinch. Thor must notice because Matt can sense his cocked head. ‘You seem upset friends?’

‘Matt’s the one whose body was talking,’ Hawkeye explains. ‘But it’s the guy on the bed speaking. Us humans tend to find that a bit weird. No offence guys.’

‘None taken,’ Matt says in a voice that makes it clear offence was taken. ‘And Foggy has a name, use it.’

Thor rises. ‘My companion meant no slight against yours,’ he says, moving to stand beside Matt. ‘You were the one whom I aided three morns ago.’ Matt nods and Foggy can feel how he’s both unsettled by Thor’s closeness but also somehow reassured by the way he’s speaking. It’s a confusing feeling. ‘And your Foggy the man who shared your burden?’

‘Yes,’ they say.

‘But now he needs you to share his burden?’

Matt nods again. ‘We’re sharing a mind. I’m protecting from what is trying to kill him.’

‘Admirable.’ Thor sighs and looks down. ‘I must confess that this is beyond my experience-’

‘So you can’t help.’ Foggy finds himself feeling nothing but resigned to his fate. He loves Matt and sure this is way closer than he ever thought he’d be to Matt - even after the last few days - but it’s Matt. There are worse fates than living in his mind.

Don’t you dare lovebraveFoggyadmireprotective give up.

I doubt I’ll be allowed to resignedloveyoumakemebetter with you beside me.

‘I did not say that. Only that this is beyond my experience.’ With a clap on Matt’s shoulder, Thor turns to walk away. ‘I have found that I have managed well enough on Midgard where most things are beyond my experience.’ And with that, he’s gone, Banner trailing after him.

Huh.

Dude, if you ever have to fight fearscaredlovebesafe with the Avengers, I want him admirefriendlykind as your backup.

Agreed

*********

Matt wants to follow Stark and Hawkeye, who go after Thor, to offer help or assistence but they can’t leave Foggy’s body without contact to Matt’s. Instead he rages at the rudeness of the Avengers, taking their brainstorming and planning to a room they know MattandFoggy can’t follow.

We’re not worthy of consideration. We’re not people to the-

Or they forgot about the skin contact thing. Foggy. Always the reasonable one. Now what had been the name of the tower…? Jarvis?

It sounds familiar. ‘Jarvis?’

‘Yes Mr Murdock?’ Score! ‘Can you tell the others that if they want to brainstorm and plan with us they’re going to have to bring it in here or help me bring Foggy out there?’

There’s a pause then, ‘I have informed them of this. They are returning to your location with sincere apologies.’

Matt can feel his disbelief being matched by Foggy’s. ‘Sincere apologies?’

Another silence and Matt gets the feeling if JARVIS was human, he’d be looking shifty right now. ‘Apologies would perhaps be the better term.’

‘Thank you Jarvis,’ they say with a smile.

Stark bursts into the room then, attempting to bang the sliding door. Matt blinks, sure his senses have read the situation wrong but nope. He’s actually trying.

‘You look ridiculous,’ Matt says mildly and Stark turns to him. ‘Well, I say ‘look’.’

‘So there is some sight?’

Foggy surges forward before Matt can even shake his head, ‘Matt’s blind which means, hey, no sight!’ Stark flinches and Matt grins. ‘Keep your experiments to yourself,’ Foggy adds and Matt feels his fear at the thought of Matt as a labrat.

Gently Matt shares his own memories/nightmares/concerns of that. I get why you never betrayedfeartrust told me, if this fearterrortrapped was what you imagined.

One day I think was going to. I just had to work around trustfearwhatifheleaves my holds up first.

That’s… That’s surprisedelightcuriousity not a lie.

‘Mr Murdock? Mr Nelson?’ Banner asks in a tone that suggests this is not the first time he’s asked. Matt nods their acknowledgement. ‘We have… we think we have something of a plan.’

‘Will it work?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Then explain it to us.’

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 15/17(?)

[(Anonymous)]

a solution in sight! and i am with foggy; that was very kind of thor.

FILL: Matt/Fisk/Vanessa. Matt/Others. Infertility. Non con. Part 1

[(Anonymous)]

I actually prompted this, but then I couldn't get it out of my head. Even more embarrassingly, I couldn't even stick to my own own prompt as the story evolved.

----

“How is he this morning?” Wesley asked as he entered the basement facility.

“Charming as ever,” Harry answered, flipping a switch on the instrument panel in front of him. He held a button down on the panel, and then spoke into the microphone. “The bathroom door is open now, Matt.”

On the large monitor in front of them, they watched as Matt listlessly rolled himself off the bare bed, and said, “Thanks, Harry. Can I have the radio on?”

“Sure, what channel?” He asked over the comm.

“News. Something local.”

“One of these days you'll surprise me and ask for sports.”

Matt grinned, then paused at the padded door. “Never gonna happen.”

The view on the monitor changed to a camera inside the bare shower stall, as Matt entered, stripped off his black T shirt and sweat pants, then stepped under the steaming spray.

“Quiet night?” Wesley asked, as he perched on the edge of the control desk.

“Nothing on the logs,” Harry replied, as he punched at his keyboard and selected a news channel to stream over the speakers built into the ceiling of the padded cell. “Looks like he slept right through.”

“That's good news at least,” Wesley replied.



“Report,” Wesley said, as he folded his hands together and placed them on the flat surface of the fold down table.

Matt let out a humourless snort and ran his hands through his damp hair.

“Matthew, why do you have to make this more difficult than it needs to be?” Wesley asked with a sigh.

“Oh, believe me, this isn't half as difficult as I can make it,” Matt replied, leaning back in his chair.




Matt had been almost co-operative at first, once he had been properly subdued.

When male fertility dropped to almost zero without reason & the government had offered substantial financial rewards to any still fertile male to come forward and donate to a national sperm bank, they hadn't bet on someone from the private sector making those men significantly more substantial offers.

It had actually been Wesley's idea, to move into this new market. They had been in the middle of clearing out tenement blocks, in between waging a war against a masked vigilante and a woman who just wouldn't quit being a thorn in their sides, when this new opportunity had presented itself.

It quickly became clear that this business was going to be more profitable than anything they had ever encountered before. Unlike drugs, where supply could be upped to meet demand until the market was flooded, fertile semen was so rare that they could set their own price, and people were still so desperate for children that no matter how high they pushed the price, people would still pay it.

Fisk quickly ended all his other business enterprises. His plans to improve Hell's Kitchen were forgotten, and he ended his associations with all the crime syndicates he was doing business with.

With his catalogue of willing, and handsomely paid, donators, Fisk soon had enough money to invest heavily in his business, and built his own tower block, named after himself, in the centre of Hell's Kitchen. Offices, medical facilities, an insemination clinic and a sperm bank were built on the lower floors, while higher up the building, Fisk created luxury apartments for the fertile men, to ensure no other operation would tempt them away.

Fisk's business was entirely legal now, but it wouldn't stay that way.

There were a few publicly minded individuals who had refused all offers, preferring instead to go with the government initiative, but when demand outstripped supply, Fisk issued orders for those men to be picked up off the street and placed in a newly built secure basement facility, where no one would ever find them.

They only ever successfully found one man, and it just so happened that it was Matthew Murdock.



He put up a hell of a fight for a blind man, and it didn't take them long to put two and two together and realise that the person they had locked in a cell was in fact the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Fisk had wanted to put a bullet in his head straight away, but Wesley persuaded him on an entirely different course of action, once he had explained the financial advantage of keeping him alive.

At first they merely observed; watching how his unusual abilities worked, and then brought in a doctor to surgically remove his left ear drum. They weren't sure it would work, but Matt had howled when he came round from the anaesthetic, and flung himself off the bed. He stumbled round the room, tripping over a chair, and collapsed onto his hands and knees on the floor.

When Wesley entered the room and Matt took a swing at him, his punch swinging wide by six inches, he knew they had won. They had tamed the Devil.



They kept it secret at first, but soon a few select, trusted, clients were offered a unique opportunity. Instead of choosing the father of their child based on family history of illness or hair and eye colour, they were offered a chance to have their child fathered by a unique individual. One with special talents, who was fit, strong, and brave. What parent would choose the human equivalent of a pony to be the father of their child, when they had a derby winner in their stable?

Matt's semen sold for five times more than any other man at the facility, once they had finally convinced him that co-operation was a lot better than being hit with an industrial cattle prod until his skin was seared with burns and he was writhing breathless on the floor.

For six months business was good. They were bringing in monthly what their previous criminal activities had generated in a year, and apart from the man they had held in their basement, everything in the operation was legal and above board.

And then a new client had come to Wesley with a proposition. He was a crown prince of a small country, and he had heard through his close associates that they had the devil at their disposal. The prince was distrustful, and wouldn't believe their claims until he saw Matt with his own eyes, and then he announced that he would pay ten times the going rate for a live insemination.



Matt had refused point blank, and even with his back a weeping mess of cattle prod burns, he had refused, until Fisk appeared in his cell and gave him a simple choice.

“You will go in that room and fuck that woman,” he said. “If you don't, I will fuck you until you bleed.”

Matt had relented, and suddenly they had a waiting list of rich customers who wanted live inseminations. Within a year the money they had earned from Matt had paid for the entire costs of building Fisk Towers.



Wesley had delivered the rules to prospective parents so often he recited them by rote.

“When you are ready, press the buzzer on your left. The door will open and Matthew will enter. He will be ready and it will not take him long, so be prepared for that. And most importantly, whatever you do, do not touch him. The last person who did that left without their teeth.”

“I-is this safe?” one of the parents would usually stutter.

“As long as you follow the rules everything will be fine. We have a team just outside, simply as a precaution, should you fail to follow the rules.”

For the first year Wesley had watched Matt's appointments with the dispassionate eye of someone watching a financial transaction. Truth be told, there was actually very little of interest to watch, as it was usually over so fast. When the buzzer sounded, Matt would stand on his side of the door with his hand down his pants, then he would push to door open and walk into the room like a boxer entering a ring. In less than a minute he would always be back in his own room, stalking around the bed until the door to the shower was opened.

It all changed when Fisk & Vanessa decided they wanted a child.

“You know the rules, sir?” Wesley had asked outside the appointment room.

“Rules?” Fisk asked amusedly. “He belongs to me. I want the cameras off and I don't want any interruptions.”

“Sir, if he should become violent-”

“IF he becomes violent,” Fisk interrupted, “I will handle it myself.”

Four hours later Fisk and Vanessa had emerged from the room laughing, and the medical team had dragged Matt's unconscious body back to his cell.

The same thing happened for the next 2 days.

After that everything had gone to hell.

re: Matt/Fisk/Vanessa. Matt/Others. Infertility. Non con. Part 2

[(Anonymous)]

“Report, Matthew,” Wesley said again, sternly.

“I'm fine,” Matt snapped back.

“Do you need anything?” Wesley asked.

“You could give me the day off?” Matt suddenly asked.

“Matthew, you know that isn't possible.”

Matt ran his hands over his face, and asked, “So how many many times am I going to get fucked today?”

“You have one appointment today,” Wesley replied.

“Great,” Matt replied bitterly.

The intercom crackled into life, and Harry announced, “Breakfast's here.”

“Send it in,” Wesley replied loudly.

Harry wheeled the trolley through the door and set the plates out on the table, placing plastic cutlery either side of it, then wheeled the trolley back out.

“Is it my birthday?” Matt asked as he sniffed the waffles.

“Waffles and syrup, pomegranate juice, plain yoghurt & pumpkin seeds,” Wesley replied, crossing his legs. Matt was fed a strictly controlled diet, mostly consisting of vegetables and fruit, to ensure he received all the vitamins and minerals he needed, but Wesley had asked the chef to prepare something special that morning.

Matt picked up his knife and fork and started to dig into the waffles, savouring then flavour, and then he paused. “You wouldn't bring me food like this unless something was going on.”

Wesley closed his eyes for a moment, smoothing a finger tip over one eyebrow, as he sighed. There was no way to sugar coat this. “Vanessa wants another baby.”

“No!” Matt shouted, as he slammed the knife and fork down onto the flimsy table. “You know what they did to me last time!”

“I know what they did, Matthew, but I'm afraid we don't have any choice.”

“We?” Matt shouted, as he jumped out of his chair, sending it skittering backwards across the floor.

Wesley was out of his chair in seconds, with one hand outstretched. Keeping his voice low and calm, he said, “Matthew, you need to calm down. You know what happens when you get angry.”

Matt stalked furiously round the room, his hands locked in his hair, and then he circled back round, and with a roar he grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it across the cell.

Wesley backed against the wall, and said, “Harry, calming measures please.”

“No. NO!” Matt wailed, and then the room was filled with sound as a loud alarm blared and multiple jets of pressurised white gas erupted into the room from the ceiling.

When the overhead fans cleared the smoke, Matt was writhing on the floor, his eyes wide, and his hands clamped to the sides of his head.

Wesley moved over to him, and said, “I'm going to touch you now, Matthew.” He placed his hands on Matt's shoulders and dragged him upright so he was leaning against the edge of the bed. “I'm sorry, but they are coming today and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“I can't. I-I can't,” Matt stuttered. “Please. Don't let them do that to me again.”

“If you'd just co-operate and don't fight him, maybe it won't be like last time.”

Matt let out a soft, mirthless laugh, and said, “That's what I did last time and you saw how that ended.” He placed a hand on Wesley's arm, and begged, “Please, you have to stop them.”

Wesley swallowed. When he had gone to Fisk and stated that he saw a new trade opportunity opening up, he had never imagined it would end like this. Of all the brutal beatings and executions he had seen Fisk dish out over the years, this was the slowest and most agonising death Wesley had ever witnessed.

“I really wish I could,” Wesley said softly.







“Report,” Wesley stated calmly.

Matt was sat on the edge of his bed, one arm wrapped defensively around his chest and the other between his legs. His eyes were open, mottled bruising bright on one cheekbone, staring blankly ahead of him, but he gave no indication that he had even heard the question.

“Matthew,” Wesley says sternly, and his head jerked up. “ Where are you injured?”

“I'm fine,” he stated blankly.

“Broken bones?”

“Two ribs.”

“Are you bleeding inside?”

Matt cocked his head to one side, then replied, “Yes.”

“On your side.”

Matt obediently laid down, drawing his knees up to his chest. He knew the drill by now.

Wesley looked away when the doctor snapped on latex gloves, he tried not to listen to the sound of the cap popping off the bottle of lube, nor Matt's pained intake of breath a few seconds later.

“Is it bad?” he asked.

“Minor tearing,” the doctor replied, as he snapped off his gloves and deposited them in the bin. “No need for stitches. I'll prescribe some salve and some pain meds, and have one of the nurses come down and tape his ribs, but other than that, he's good to go.”

When the doctor left the room, Wesley scrubbed his hands through his hair and sighed. “Did you fight him?” he asked.

“No,” Matt replied wearily, still curled in a ball on his side. “He said he'd see me tomorrow though.”

Wesley thought for a moment. “Maybe I can pursued Wilson to stay out of it. Just let Vanessa into the appointment room.”

“It wouldn't make a difference,” Matt sighed. “She's just as bad as him.”

“I don't know what I can do,” Wesley said quietly.

“With any luck he'll beat me to death tomorrow,” Matt said bitterly, turning over onto his other side, so his back was towards Wesley, indicating that this conversation was well and truly over.






“What's going on?” Wesley asked, as he burst into the room, wearing sweat pants and a rumpled T shirt. When he got the call he'd been sleeping in his suite upstairs, and had judged the situation serious enough that he didn't have time to change.

“Nightmare,” Matt's night time watcher, David, replied, “And it's a bad one. He hasn't responded at all.”

Wesley pressed the button on the control panel, and dragged the microphone to his mouth. “Matthew, I need you wake up now.”

Wesley shouted twice more, then Matt seemed to still for a second, than sat bolt upright, screaming.

“Open the door,” Wesley shouted.

“I'm not going in there!” David barked. “Last time he was like this he broke my arm.”

“Just open the god damn door,” Wesley shouted.

The door slid open and Wesley strode into the room, stopping a foot away from Matt. He shouted, “Matthew, you're having a nightmare. You need to wake up now.”

The screaming suddenly stopped, and Matt blinked a few times, his eyes roving sightlessly around the room.

“Are you awake?” Wesley asked, and suddenly Matt was off the bed, dragging himself to the corner of the room like a wounded animal, where he curled up, shaking so hard that it looked like he might fall apart at any second.

Wesley knelt by Matt, making sure that he would be close enough so that matt could feel his familiar presence with whatever senses he had left, but not close enough to touch him.

He stayed there all night.

Re: FILL: Matt/Fisk/Vanessa. Matt/Others. Infertility. Non con. Self Harm. Suicidal thoughts. Part 3

[(Anonymous)]

When Wesley woke early the next morning he was thankful for the evolution of Matt's cell and it's padded walls and floor.

It had been designed simply as an inescapable, soundproof, metal box, with a ceiling filled with surveillance cameras, speakers and the complicated dry ice and fan system they used every time their prisoner got out of hand.

For the first year it had served well enough, and Matt had been allowed a few shelves of possessions, some Braille books and a radio, as well as the table and chair where he had his meals.

After Fisk and Vanessa's first appointment Matt had smashed everything he could get his hands on, until only his bed was left. The debris was removed from the room and not replaced.

After Fisk's third appointment Matt had punched the steel walls of his cell until he had broken bones in both in both hands, and then he kept on punching. It had taken four guards to put him down that day, and the next day, when he woke up, he had moved to one corner of his cell, then sprinted across the small space as fast as he could and rammed his head into the sheet metal.

Matt woke from his medically induced coma three days later, with a fractured skull and the walls of his cell padded with thick foam. He started screaming and didn't stop until they sedated him again.



“Morning, sir,” Harry called over the intercom. Then he joked, “Can I take your breakfast order this morning?”

“What time is it?” Wesley asked, running his hands across the floor, looking for his glasses which had slid off his face during the night.

“It's almost 8am,” Harry replied. “Bad night?”

“Very much so,” Wesley replied, as he climbed to his feet.




When Wesley returned to the cell and hour later, dressed in three piece suit, as always, Matt was off the floor and laid on his bed, curled up on his side, as the radio played soft classical music.

“He requested this?” Wesley asked.

“No, I just thought it might make make him feel better,” Harry replied.

Wesley liked Harry. He was certainly a better watcher than David who worked the night shifts, who just seemed to be in it for the money. Harry actually cared about Matt, and had built up an odd easy going relationship with him, despite their situation. Wesley had frequently walked in on them in the middle of a debate about about something they had heard on the news, and he attributed the fact that Matt hadn't gone completely insane in the three years they'd helped him captive to Harry's friendship.

Wesley had come in early one morning about a year before and caught them in a conversation that he was pretty sure he wasn't meant to hear.

“I don't blame you, Harry.” Matt had said. “It isn't your fault.”

“But I'm part of it now. I'm helping them keep you here,” Harry said, his voice sounding clogged and thick with unshed tears.

“You didn't know what you were getting into,” Matt replied. “I know what Fisk is like, and I know what he'll do if you even think of letting me out.”

“But I-I could just open the door. Maybe we could say it was an electrical fault?”

“I won't leave,” Matt replied sternly.” You open that door and I won't move an inch out of this cell.”

“But, what if-”

“Harry, no,” Matt interrupted. “You have a family, and believe me, he will kill every last one of them if you do anything.”

“But I can't just let you die here,” Harry sobbed.

Matt was quiet for a moment, then quietly replied, “I came to terms with the fact that I'm going to die here a long time ago. You need to let it go.”



Wesley knew Matt was right. If Harry helped him escape Fisk would decimate every one he loved, and he hoped Harry was smart enough never to act on those impulses.



Wesley set up the small folding dining set in the cell, and when Matt made no effort to rise from the bed, he said, “Come over here Matthew, and sit down.”

Matt was immediately on his feet, trailing one hand over the edge of the bed as he moved over the table. He reached a hand out, fingers searching for the back of the chair, and gingerly sat down.

“You can bring it in now,” Wesley said, and the door opened, as one of the guards brought in a tray, and set it down on the table.

As the guard left, Wesley arranged the plates in front of Matt, and said, “Fresh fruit, plain yoghurt, and pumpkin seeds, with pomegranate juice.”

Matt kept his hands by his sides, then said, “I don't want it.”

“Does something smell off?” Wesley asked.

“I'm not going to eat it.”

Wesley sighed, and said, “This again?”

“I'm not eating it,” Matt replied.

“If you want I can take this away, but you remember what happened last time you tried to starve yourself.” Wesley said, and then he looked over his shoulder towards the camera and said, “Harry, call up to medical and ask them to prepare the restraints and NG feeding kit.”

Matt's hands shot up and he grabbed the spoon, then began shovelling the yoghurt and fruit into his mouth as fast as he could.

Wesley didn't have the heart to remind him that Fisk and Vanessa had another appointment that day.







Wesley made a point of being in a completely different part of the building when Fisk & Vanessa had turned up for their appointment, but around 5 hours later he had received a frantic phone call from Harry begging him to come down to the basement level.

As the elevator doors swung open, Wesley heard a familiar voice.

“Wesley,” Vanessa said, with a light lilt in her voice. “How lovely to see you.”

Wesley nodded to Fisk, and said, “Sir, Vanessa, it's lovely to see you too.” He cleared his throat and said, “I trust Matthew was well behaved.”

Vanessa curled an arm around Wilson's back and leaned into him. “That boy is simply a delight.” She turned to Fisk, and said, “I don't know why we don't keep him all to ourselves.”

Wilson laughed. “Simple economics, as Wesley often tells me.”

“Wesley, you spoilsport,” Vanessa said, with a mocking pout.

“If you'll excuse me, sir, I have business to attend to,” Wesley said, as he stepped to the side, and allowed the couple to enter the elevator.

“You should stop by the penthouse tonight for dinner, Wesley,” Vanessa said.

“I will, ma'am, thank you for the invitation.”

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed, and then headed towards Matt's cell.

“What happened?” Wesley breathed, when he saw a group of people on the monitor.

Harry turned to him, his eyes wet as if he was trying not to cry. “It's bad.”

Wesley noticed the bloody hand print on the wall on the padding near the door from the appointment room, and asked, “What did they do to him?”

“T-they signalled for me to open the door. He made it back into his room, but then he just went down,” Harry babbled, stumbling over his words.






It took the medical staff an hour to clear the room, and another 30 minutes before Matt woke up. He stumbled around the room, disorientated for a while, before settling in a corner, where he lay until the next morning, without sleeping.

The doctors had suggested that he be given at least three days off to recover.

Fisk didn't listen.

It took the doctors an hour to stitch up the internal damage he caused on his next appointment.






When Wesley came down to the basement level the next morning Fisk was there with a grin pulling at the edges of his mouth, as he observed Matt laying uncomfortably, face down on his bed.

Harry sat, straight backed, answering his questions politely, clearly intimidated by Wilson's presence.

“Do you have another appointment today, sir?” Wesley asked.

“No, no,” Fisk said with a wave of his hand. “Vanessa's fertile time has passed now. I was merely wondering how many appointments he had today.”

“The medical staff have removed him from duty for at least three days, sir,” Wesley replied.

“What?” Fisk asked. “I won't have him laying there costing me money. Have him donate. It will still sell for a high price, even if it is just for insemination.”

“We've tried that in the past and you know he won't comply, especially now,” Wesley said.

“So use the electro-stim on him.”

Wesley saw Harry open his mouth to protest, and held a hand up, cutting him off. “But, sir, if I may, that tool isn't designed to be used on a conscious subject. We only use it on paralysed donators.”

Fisk's face filled with rage as he watched the monitor closely, and he said, “You will use it on him, without sedation, and maybe then he will learn his lesson about compliance.”







“Are you going to do this?” Wesley asked, holding the cup in gloved hands.

Matt was on his side on the bed, blankly ignoring everything that was going on around him.

“Are you going to do it yourself?” Wesley asked again. “Matthew, I swear, you have no idea just how much this will hurt if they make you do it.”

Matt blinked slowly, then reached up with a lazy hand and pulled down the back of his loose black pants.

Wesley turned to the E-stim team, and said, “Do it.”

As he walked to the door, Wesley could hear the team making their preparations, and then a gasp from Matt as the probe was eased into him.

The door closed, but Wesley could still hear the team talking over the intercom.

“Have you got the sheath?”

“Ready.”

“OK, preparing to go to threshold, in three, two, one...”

Wesley turned away from the monitor as Matt let out a pained cry.

“What's the temperature?”

“Looking good.”

“Is the sheath in place?”

“We are good to go.”

“We'll start at level five and work our way up to level seven, but make sure you keep your eyes on the temperature, and be ready to shut down.”

“Will do.”

“OK, in three, two, one...”

Matt let out a wailing scream like nothing Wesley had ever heard before, then there was a click as Harry turned off the audio.

Matt had to go through this again, in eight hours time.

They had their orders.







After the second E-stim session Matt's stitches had been checked by a doctor at Wesley's insistence, and all seemed well.

He had refused to eat, but had gratefully drank down his pomegranate juice, followed by two bottles of water, so Wesley decided not to push the matter.

At about 10pm Wesley was still sitting in the control room, idly answering emails on his phone, when he looked up and noticed Matt was back in the corner of the room, curled up around himself. He didn't seem to be moving, so Wesley returned to his emails.

Half an hour later, with all his business for the day attended to, Wesley turned his attention back to Matt.

“What is he doing?” Wesley asked, looking closer at the monitor.

David, who had taken over from Harry for the night shift, looked up from his book, and said, “He looks fine to me.”

“No,” Wesley said. “He's doing something. Open the door.”

David pressed a button on the control panel, and Wesley quickly entered the room, and from this new angle he could see that Matt was sat in a puddle of fresh blood.

“What have you done?” Wesley shouted as he pulled Matt's bloody hand from inside his pants.






“Thank you for coming down, sir,” Wesley said, as Fisk swept imperiously into the room.

“You said you had an important matter to discuss?” Fisk asked, as he stood in front of the control panel, looking at the monitor.

“We need to discuss Matthew's mental state, sir,” Wesley said.

“You called me down here for that?” Fisk asked, gruffly.

“He's self harming again,” Wesley said. “And he's doing it in bizarre ways. Last night it seems like he tried to castrate himself with his own fingernails.”

“So restrain him.”

“I really don't think that's a good idea, sir. The medical staff have suggested he be removed from duties for at least a week.”

“Absolutely not,” Fisk said loudly. “You more than anyone know how important he is to the financial success of this facility.”

“But if he loses his mind he isn't going to be able to work for us.”

“Then find a way,” Fisk said, jabbing his finger into Wesley's chest. “If you are so worried about him, do whatever it takes to make him work, but I want him back on active duty tomorrow.”

Fisk walked out of the room, and Harry turned to Wesley. “That didn't go well.”

“No, it didn't,” Wesley replied.

“What are we going to do?”

Wesley took off his jacket, and laid it on the side of the control panel. “Open the door.”

Wesley walked into the room and stood buy the bed, watching as Matt moved his slightly, obviously aware of his presence.

“What do you want?” Matt asked.

“Just to talk,” Wesley said softly. “How do you feel?”

“Like I can still smell my own blood under my fingernails,” Matt replied.

“I'm worried about you, Matthew,” Wesley stated.

Matt laughed softly, and said, “Then maybe you should let me go, if you're that worried. It's the only thing that's going to prevent me from dying in here.”

“You know I can't do that. Fisk would lead a one man war against the world until he got you back.”

“I know,” Matt sighed.

“Is it alright if I touch you, Matthew?”

“What?” Matt asked. “Do you want to fuck me too?”

“I don't want anything from you at all. Is it alright?”

“Whatever,” Matt said, with a shrug.

“I need a yes or no answer.”

“OK, yes,” Matt said into the pillow.

Wesley laid his hand on Matt's shoulder, and gently squeezed, then relaxed his fingers. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He stood, hoping that Matt was getting some comfort from the simple gesture.

After a minute or so he felt the muscles under his hand relax, and he quietly said, “I saw your friend Nelson in the street two days ago.”

“Foggy,” Matt said quietly, and then he whispered it again. “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

“He was hanging up 'Missing' posters with your face on them. He hasn't given up on you.”

“Giving up isn't Foggy's style,” Matt grinned.

“No, it certainly isn't.”

“He won't find me though,” Matt said quietly. “No one will.”

“No. They won't,” he sighed.

“Wesley?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think Fisk is going to kill me soon?”

“I honestly don't know,” Wesley replied quietly.

Matt moved, shooting up from the bed, and before Wesley could even react, Matt's arms were wrapped tightly round him, and his face was tucked into his neck. Wesley could feel wetness against his skin where Matt's cheek pressed against him, and the heat of his hitching breath against his collar.

Wesley raised his arms and wrapped them tightly around Matt's back.

Re: FILL: Matt/Fisk/Vanessa. Matt/Others. Infertility. Non con. Self Harm. Suicidal thoughts. Part 4

[(Anonymous)]

“YOU.”

A single word, spoken loudly, woke Wesley from a sleep he didn't even know he had fallen into. He remembered Matt sobbing for what seemed like hours, until he could barely stay sitting up, and then Wesley had laid him back on the bed.

“Don't leave me,” Matt said quietly, like a child about to be abandoned.

“I won't,” Wesley replied, as he removed his tie & glasses.

“YOU. HOW COULD YOU?”

Wesley blinked up at Fisk, standing over them. Matt was still plastered along Wesley's side, one arm thrown carelessly across his chest.

“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HIM!” Fisk roared, and Wesley wasn't sure who exactly he was speaking to.

Fisk grabbed Matt's ankle and dragged him down the bed in one quick tug, waking him from his deep sleep.

“W-what's happening?” Matt stammered, his fingers twitching against the bare mattress.

Fisk opened his belt, and unzipped the fly of his expensive suit, and Matt twitched his head to the right, favouring his good ear.

“N-no. No, no, no, no,” Matt repeated, when he realised what was about to happen.

“No, sir, please,” Wesley said, raising a hand and sliding off the mattress. “Don't do this.”

“Shut up,” Fisk roared, as he pulled out his cock and started pumping it. He was hard in seconds, and he pulled down matt's sweat pants, and lined himself up. “I'm going to teach you a lesson you should have learnt long ago.”

Fisk entered Matt in one punishingly fast move. No preparation. No lube. Matt was screaming.

As Fisk pulled out Wesley could see his cock was already streaked with bright red blood, then he slammed back in again, and started pounding in and out of the writhing body below him.

“Sir, please,” Wesley shouted over Matt's agonising wails of pain.

“Shut up!” Fisk roared. “He has to learn. He has to learn who he belongs to. That he can't just take and take and take.”

Thankfully it was over quickly, and Fisk came with a grunt, as he ground into Matt one final time. He pulled out, leaving a trail of blood behind him, spilling down Matt's pale thighs, and then tucked himself back into his pants.

Wesley breathed out a shuddering breath. Matt was injured, still moaning with with every panting breath, but this was fixable. As soon as Wilson left the room he would call for the medical staff, and they would fix this.

Fisk raised his arm, his hand curled into a fist and with an angry scream he punched Matt in the back of the head.

Matt's body immediately went stiff, and a choked sound came from his throat as his muscles started twitching, and he slithered off the bed on the floor.

Fisk leaned down, one foot planted either side of Matt's seizing body, and grabbed him by a handful of his t shirt, lifting him up off the floor, and he started to punch.







Wesley sat on the folding chair, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, and the life support machine that was pushing air into Matt's unresponsive lungs.

The repair bill the team of surgeons the medical staff had called in was astronomical, and it had taken them almost a full day to drain the blood from Matt's skull, and to repair the internal injuries Fisk had inflicted upon him.

Matt had remained in a medically induced coma ever since, and Fisk had still ordered the E-Stim team to visit him twice a day, even though he had been warned it could cause his heart to fail.

Wesley found himself wondering if it would be better for Matt if he never woke up. The doctors had warned them that Matt would likely suffer permanent, lasting damage from the bleed in his brain, and more than once Wesley had found himself holding his fingers to the off switch on the life support machine, contemplating what Matt would want.

“Don't do it,” Harry had said. “This isn't our choice to make.”

“We have to do something,” Wesley said, desperately.

“You know what we have to do,” Harry replied.







After two weeks Matt was woken from his coma, and although the doctors declared that he had no major brain injuries, it was clear to Wesley that he was still deeply unwell.

Matt slept for most of the day, and when he was awake he followed instructions without question or hesitation, but he never spoke unless he was asked a question, are rarely answered with anything other than whispered single words. It was like a light had gone out inside him, and it worried Wesley.

Harry's words kept playing over in his head.

“You know what we have to do.”

Harry was right.








“Get out of my apartment now or I will break your face with my fist!” Foggy shouted. “I'm not joking. I know Kung Fu and I'm not afraid to use it.”

“Calm down, Nelson,” Wesley said, as he strode across the room.

Foggy edged backwards, picking up a lamp, and holding it up in front of himself. “I'm warning you.”

Wesley stopped, and said, “Matt's alive.”

“What?” Foggy gasped, dropping the lamp, which shattered across the floor. “He's alive?”

“You were right,” Wesley said. “Fisk kept him prison-”

He was cut off as Foggy landed a punch square on his jaw, which sent him staggering backwards.

“You had him?” Foggy sobbed. “You had him all this time?”

“I'm getting him out of there, but I need your help.”

“Anything,” Foggy breathed.

Wesley took out a sheet of paper from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to Foggy. “I need you to be at this address at midnight, tomorrow night, but you need to start planning now. You need to get him out of the country straight away. Take him somewhere no one will ever find him.”

“I will,” Foggy replied, running his fingers over the paper.

“Don't mess this up, Nelson. His life depends upon it.”

“I'll be there,” Foggy said, as Wesley began to move towards the door. “Wesley?”

He paused at the door and turned, then Foggy asked. “Matt, is he OK?”

Wesley shook his head, and said, “No, he isn't.”






“I need you to wake up now, Matthew,” Wesley said, as he gently shook the sleeping man.

Matt made a questioning sound, struggling to overcome the grogginess that had plagued him since his head injury, then asked, “What's going on?”

“I'll answer you questions later, now come on,” Wesley said, as he pulled Matt by the arm and towards the door.

“No,” Matt said, dragging his arm out Wesley's grasp. “I can't go out there. Harry has a family. Fisk will-”

“You let me worry about Fisk,” Wesley said, as he grabbed Matt's arm again and pulled him through the door, and out through the control, where David lay unconscious on the floor.

“Is he OK?” Matt asked.

“Drugged,” Wesley said, as he pulled Matt out into the corridor. “They'll find both David, and I, were drugged with a fast acting barbiturate that was placed in the coffee by your rescuers.”

“But what about Fisk?” Matt asked, as they walked swiftly down the corridor.

“I'm going to take care of him,” Wesley said, as they moved into the basement boiler room.

“You're going to kill him.”

“I am,” Wesley said. “When you are gone I'm going to take the service elevator up the penthouse and shoot both he and Vanessa in the head. It's such a shame that your rescuers took my gun after they drugged me and used it to kill my employer.”

They stopped abruptly, and Wesley bent down, placing his hands on the wheel that operated a hatch. He turned the wheel, and then lifted up the hatch. “Go down the ladder, and take the right hand tunnel. Follow it straight all the way. Do not turn. Do not go slow and do stop. Someone will be waiting for you.”

“Who?”

“Nelson knows you're coming. He's going to be waiting for at the other end.”

“Foggy,” Matt whispered. “Foggy's waiting for me.”

“He is, now go, Matthew. I only have fifteen more minutes before the cameras come back on. Harry can't keep control of the network for much longer.”

Matt climbed down onto the ladder, descending slowly, and then he paused, and looked up at Wesley. “Come with me?”

“I can't. Someone has to take care of Fisk, or you will never be free of him.”

Matt started to descend the ladder once more, and then stepped off it, into the stinking sewer water.

“Matthew,” Wesley called out to him, and he looked up. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Wesley,” Matt replied, and then he was gone.

Wesley went upstairs, entered the penthouse, and shot Fisk and Vanessa dead.






The swiftness of the fall of Fisk's empire had surprised Wesley. He'd expected some kind of civil war, as criminal gangs fought for supremacy, but in the end it was all very quiet.

No one came for Wesley. He knew that several of Fisk's associates suspected that he had killed him, but no one seemed to care enough to do anything about it. Instead, Wesley had carried on with his duties of running of the facility.

He ordered that Matt's cell be dismantled and the doors to the rooms be boarded shut. He wanted no trace that it had ever even been there.

He heard from Nelson, who had somehow managed to get hold of an encrypted phone, on sporadic occasions. The first call was to tell him that they had got out of the country, and that they were safe, and then an enquiry as to whether Wesley had completed his plan, and Fisk was dead.

During the second call Nelson was obviously drunk and emotional.

“How could you stand there and watch them do that do him for THREE YEARS?” Foggy asked. “Don't you have a soul?”

Wesley started to ask himself that question too.

“Matt tried to kill himself,” Foggy informed him during the third conversation. “This isn't the first time, but he damn near did it this time. Did you know he wants to be castrated? The doctor he asked to do it said no so, yeah, he decided death was a better option, but who can blame him, I mean he was raped pretty much every day for three years...”

Wesley closed his eyes and listened to Nelson's word, knowing every single one of them was true. It was his fault.




It was nearly six months later when Wesley received a call again from the encrypted phone.

“Nelson, don't you think you should have called me before now and let me know if he was dead or not?” he snapped.

“Hi, Wesley,” a voice said softly.

“M-matthew,” Wesley stammered.

“I'm alive, by the way.”

“I'm glad to hear it. How are you?”

“I'm good,” Matt replied. “I am now anyway.” Then he let out a laugh and said, “It's amazing what doctors will do for you when you get hold of a rusty razor blade.”

“That isn't funny, Matthew,” Wesley sighed. “But you got what you wanted?”

“100% infertile,” Matt replied. “I'm no use to anyone now.”

“No one here is looking for you, Matthew. No one is going to come for you,” Wesley said.

“Maybe not from you, but you never know when anyone else might try the same thing,” Matt replied. “You set up quite the unique business model, so you never know when someone else might try to follow in your footsteps.”

“A good point,” Wesley replied, as he rubbed his forehead. He was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I'm sorry, Matthew. I'm sorry for everything that was done to you.”

“I know you are, and I wanted to thank you for letting me go,” Matt said quietly, but when he spoke again his voice took on a darker tone. “I also wanted to let you know that I'm training again, and if I ever, EVER, hear that you are doing something like this to someone else again, I will come for you, and I will stop you.”

“I can assure you, I have no intentions of making the same mistake twice,” Wesley said.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Matt replied. “Have a nice life, Wesley. Pray you never see me.”

The line went dead, and Wesley hung up the receiver.

He knew that he and the Devil would never cross paths again.

Re: FILL: Matt/Fisk/Vanessa. Matt/Others. Infertility. Non con. Self Harm. Suicidal thoughts. Part 4

[(Anonymous)]

Holy shit, that was intense.
Fucking awesome fill!!!! wow.
Love the ending.