Foggy kept him there until he was inches from the breaking point, and then pulled him back.
“In,” he said. “And out when you’re ready.”
Matt almost choked as he tried to breathe out too quickly. He glared sharply at Foggy.
“Not a test, Matt,” Foggy reminded him. “Breathe.”
Matt breathed, unsteadily. Foggy stepped away for a second, and returned with a rolling desk chair and the thing he had taken out of the fridge. Matt had almost forgotten about it.
He smelled the food before it touched his lips- a carefully sliced bit of apple, perfect for hand feeding, wet and juicy against his lips. He took it into his mouth without thinking, and glared up at Foggy. “I can feed myself,” he said.
“Yeah, dude, I know,” Foggy replied. “Although I think the more popular response is ‘thank you, Foggy’, but hey, to each his own.”
He held out a small square of cheese, and Matt barely resisted biting him when he took it.
“Settle,” Foggy commanded softly. He held out another slice of apple.
Matt didn’t take it. “Is this supposed to be some sort of symbolism?” he asked.
Experience told him that it was impossible even for him to hear someone rolling their eyes at him. And yet.
“Sometimes an apple is just an apple, Matt. What are you, a poet?”
“Catholic.”
“Even worse,” Foggy groused, but there was no heat behind it. Matt took another bite-sized piece from his fingers. “I’m not trying to tempt you, dude. Just feeding you. You don’t need to read anything into it that you don’t want to.”
Matt almost asked what would happen if he did want to read something else into it, but the words didn’t quite come out of his mouth. Instead, he found himself breathing to Foggy’s rhythm again, taking little nibbles of the food he fed him, and leaning his head against the Dom’s thigh and letting himself be pet.
FILL: Kneel 7/?
“In,” he said. “And out when you’re ready.”
Matt almost choked as he tried to breathe out too quickly. He glared sharply at Foggy.
“Not a test, Matt,” Foggy reminded him. “Breathe.”
Matt breathed, unsteadily. Foggy stepped away for a second, and returned with a rolling desk chair and the thing he had taken out of the fridge. Matt had almost forgotten about it.
He smelled the food before it touched his lips- a carefully sliced bit of apple, perfect for hand feeding, wet and juicy against his lips. He took it into his mouth without thinking, and glared up at Foggy. “I can feed myself,” he said.
“Yeah, dude, I know,” Foggy replied. “Although I think the more popular response is ‘thank you, Foggy’, but hey, to each his own.”
He held out a small square of cheese, and Matt barely resisted biting him when he took it.
“Settle,” Foggy commanded softly. He held out another slice of apple.
Matt didn’t take it. “Is this supposed to be some sort of symbolism?” he asked.
Experience told him that it was impossible even for him to hear someone rolling their eyes at him. And yet.
“Sometimes an apple is just an apple, Matt. What are you, a poet?”
“Catholic.”
“Even worse,” Foggy groused, but there was no heat behind it. Matt took another bite-sized piece from his fingers. “I’m not trying to tempt you, dude. Just feeding you. You don’t need to read anything into it that you don’t want to.”
Matt almost asked what would happen if he did want to read something else into it, but the words didn’t quite come out of his mouth. Instead, he found himself breathing to Foggy’s rhythm again, taking little nibbles of the food he fed him, and leaning his head against the Dom’s thigh and letting himself be pet.