daredevilkink | Prompt Post #5

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Prompt Post #5

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Henna makes a huge mess just like other dye, though, so it you're going to write it, keep that in mind. Carrot bags are useful for precise application...

- and I somehow managed to hit send before finishing this comment, but yeah. I will wait until the end of time for the next update to this fic, because it rocks that much. <3

(Repost should go up sometime in the next day or two!)

Foggy feels like they're being obvious when they meet Meg in the lobby in the morning, but Meg is practically psychic and she doesn't blink an eye. Foggy is pretty sure it would be her cousinly duty to tease him about an embarrassing amount of pining coming to fruition if she guesses, but apparently there's nothing weird about the two of them with their heads bent together arguing over the hotel bill and whether Matt should get to take Foggy out for breakfast because he's been cheated out of his portion of the expenses.

“I'm glad to see that nobody ended the night in jail,” Foggy says when Meg greets him with a kiss on the cheek and a complaint that he left so early. “Did Beth end up having that threesome?”

“I don't know, nor do I want to, and no, Joe didn't show up. It was almost anticlimactic. Jake Fiore found us, he waxed rhapsodic.”

Matt looks abruptly murderous. “Did he?”

“Cool your jets, Murdock, he didn't ask for Foggy's number or anything. I think it's hilarious.”

“I really do not,” says Foggy, and Jeff nudges Meg with his elbow, because he is a really nice guy behind all the boring. “Hey, Matt's making noises about us going for breakfast, but I hate hotel restaurants. Do you guys know anywhere in easy walking distance so we don't have to park twice?”

Meg doesn't give them a suspicious look as Matt slides his hand into Foggy's already-crooked elbow and gets his cane ready, but Jeff does, which is surprising. It's possible Foggy shouldn't underestimate him. All he says, though, is “I think there's a bakery fairly close, if you don't mind pastry for breakfast.”

“When have I ever objected to pastry? Lead the way.”

They don't hold hands. Foggy has kind of wondered, over the years, if holding hands is a valid strategy for leading the blind, but he's used to the way Matt's hand fits against his arm, and Matt is holding on more firmly than usual, like he wants the usual contact to be something different too. It's a pretty good start.

Breakfast is full of stories. It turns out debriefing from the reunion is way more fun than going to it in the first place, because Meg has no trouble being mean with him, which Jeff and Matt both seem more than willing to listen to and even sometimes join in on. Though Matt is really unfair on Ben Rosenbaum and Jake Fiore, which Foggy is going to have to tease him for later.

“Jessica C. said that she saw you two with Conrad Whittier,” Meg says at some point through a mouthful of pancake, and Matt instantly goes tense as a wire.

“Matt didn't kill him, I'm very proud.” That's actually less funny now that Foggy knows Matt does pretty much everything short of kill people. It's especially less funny when Matt looks like he's going to snap his fork in half. “And I never have to see him again, since he's going to die in some really karmic way I won't have to feel bad about before the twenty-fifth reunion, so that's the last time we ever have to deal with him.” He elbows Matt. “You aren't going to make me go to the twenty-fifth, right?”

“Probably not,” says Matt. “I've learned plenty about how your high school was, I don't need to spend another night with those people.”

Meg laughs and changes the subject to debating who actually won the reunion (probably the middle-of-the-road student who seems to have an incipient telecommunications empire), which lasts them all the way through the bill, which Matt pays over Meg's objections, and then all the way to the car. It probably wouldn't last that long except that Matt tries to make a valiant and misguided attempt to convince them all that Foggy won, which is blatantly false except in the cheesy won-the-guy sense.

Matt falls asleep in the car. Sometimes they put him to sleep, and sometime Foggy's going to have to ask him if that's a senses thing or just normal human car sleepiness, but for the moment he lowers his voice to talk to Jeff about the next Nelson family meet-up for Nana's birthday and what they should bring for the pot luck portion of the evening. Matt tips over on top of him halfway through the drive, tucking his face into Foggy's shoulder, but that's actually pretty normal. Which should probably give Foggy a few clues about their relationship, come to that.

Jeff drives them to Foggy's apartment, and Foggy wakes Matt up with a purposeful nudge. “Hey, we're home, let's get our bags out of the back and get upstairs, okay? You can go back to yours later.” Since Matt will probably want to go punch criminals in the face to celebrate his new relationship or something.

Matt smiles at him so bright Foggy feels like blushing even though it's the same damn grin Matt's been giving him for years now. “Sure, I'll stay for a while. Maybe we can have some lunch.”

“Sure, lunch.” He lets Matt get out of the car and leans forward to get a hug from Meg and a slap on the back from Jeff. “I'll call you guys about Nana's party, I feel like the grandkids should probably all get together and buy something good for her this year.”

It only takes another minute to get out of the car, and when Foggy gets out Matt's waiting on the sidewalk, already reaching out to take his arm even though he definitely does not need guiding to get into Foggy's building from less than twenty feet from the front door.

Foggy gets a text from Meg when he's halfway up the steps, and almost falls down the stairs when he reads it and can't stop laughing. “Meg says,” he says when he can manage the words, “that we've got forty-eight hours of honeymoon period before she tells my mom so we'd better take advantage of it.”

Matt laughs too, the big one that means he really thinks it's funny, and only stops himself to cut Foggy off with a kiss. “Let's go to your apartment, then,” he says quiet, once he's pulled away and Foggy is shocked silent, still not used to doing that. “And you can bargain for a full week and the right to tell your mother yourself later on. Deal?”

Foggy kisses him again, just because he can. “Deal.”

*

“Matt, you've got some mail from a church, I think,” Karen says during mail call a few weeks later. “They actually wrote your name out in braille above the letters on the address in pen, which is … a sweet gesture? I guess? Probably not a very useful one.”

Foggy comes out of his office just in time to catch Matt's completely horrified expression, which is golden. “Want me to read it for you, Matt? I really doubt the interior is braille either.”

“It's probably a charity request,” says Matt, looking uneasy, but Foggy has his number now, and Karen must be getting it, because she's got her hand over her mouth holding back her snickering the same way she's been doing in the office ever since Foggy and Matt got back from Foggy's reunion and started trying to figure out how to be boyfriends. It takes Matt under ten seconds to sigh. He's hilarious when he gets huffy. “Fine, read it.”

Foggy snatches the envelope out of Karen's hands and clears his throat while he tears open the envelope. He doesn't recognize the name of the sender, but it looks sufficiently Catholic that he's got his suspicions. “Dear Matthew—it's a form letter, by the way, there isn't even any clip-art like there was on mine—you're cordially invited to your class reunion, dates and times, RSVP numbers, we're really looking forward to seeing you and reconnecting, please RSVP by the fifteenth of this month, send any current pictures of yourself that you'd like, please feel free to bring a guest. You know, the usual. I can read you the stuff about school pride later if you want. Oh, hey, handwritten note at the bottom! Weird gesture. Anyway, someone named Margaret Donaldson wants you to know that they've made sure that service dogs are allowed in the chosen venue.”

“We don't have to go,” Matt says, without much hope. He's already got to know what way the wind is blowing. “We've already been to one reunion in the past month.”

“Yeah, but these are your assholes from the post. Aren't you going to let me go along so I can tell them all how great a lawyer you are and how lucky you are to have me as your boyfriend? You're totally winning this reunion, I'm excited for you.”

Matt laughs and shakes his head. “I'm not sure about this. They're unlikely to believe much in how happy I am with my life right now.”

“Are you taking it as a challenge? I'm taking it as a challenge.” And Karen is laughing, so she's on his side, and Foggy will call his mom if he has to, she's already in raptures that Matt is going to be officially part of the family.

“Fine. Fair's fair, I suppose.” Matt's smile goes a little softer, and that's a new smile, one of the ones Foggy is just now getting used to. “I did win, after all.”

*squeezes this fic to my bosom*

Ahhhhh! <3

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Awww man! I love how they acted like boyfriends even before they got together XD so cute.

I've loved this fic so so much - thanks for such a fun ride!

Working on this. Running longer than I'd planned; may be a while, but it's coming...

"Since Matt will probably want to go punch criminals in the face to celebrate his new relationship or something."

LOL, this is a perfect line. So much cuteness in this fic! I love it all the way through, and this ending was amazing.

...any chance you're going to write a sequel about Matt's reunion? :D

I see this version of sub!Matt as having even more trouble accepting loving aftercare than usual!Matt. And yet I still want to write this as Matt/Foggy and I can't imagine Foggy being anything but loving and sweet to a sub even if he beats them to crying, begging submission beforehand. Granted, Matt needs that kind of gentle sweetness. Hm, and then Foggy would have to insist on good BDSM practices and "Let me take care of you, damn it Matt."

I may have to write this afterall...

"Very good." Fisk was sounding a little breathless now, and despite himself Matt was glad that he was being affected, too. At least he wasn't alone, as completely and utterly wrong as the situation was. "Close your eyes."

Matt couldn't help it; he snorted, a little too loudly. "Okay," he said, glibly.
"Is something funny?" Fisk asked, sharply.

"N-no," Matt stammered, his heart skipping a beat. He was hyped up, taut as a guitar string, and for some reason he felt like Fisk was staring right at him, like he knew. It was stupid. This whole situation was stupid.

So why hadn't he hung up yet?

"Good," Fisk grunted. He wondered if Fisk was touching himself yet- by the way he was breathing, probably. Not for the first time, Matt wished he knew what Fisk looked like- just, for different reasons, now. He knew Fisk was big, tall and heavy if his voice was any indication, the deep way he breathed. His heart seemed to labor at times, and he was clearly older than Matt by at least a decade, probably more. "When I find you- and I will," Fisk said, frighteningly sincere, "I will- impress upon you- the importance of showing respect. You are too impulsive, too reckless. I think you've been wanting this, haven't you."

He paused, then let out a low rumbling sound, thoughtful, from the back of his throat. Matt swallowed, his hand finally slipping beneath the silk of his boxers. His hand was dry, too dry, the callouses of his palm making him flinch. "Wanting what?" he asked, and his voice came out hushed, a little strained.

"Someone to tell you what to do," Fisk answered. "You need it, don't you? Someone to keep you in check. Someone to answer to."

"And you think- that's you?" Matt growled.

"Yes," came the reply, smug; Matt's fist tried to clench, and he squeezed his cock a little too hard, but it was good, Jesus- he whined, unable to stop himself, and Fisk laughed, softly. "Don't hurt yourself, boy. Shh," he said, as Matt opened his mouth to protest, panting, "Hush. Tell me what you like. What do you want?"

This call to end, Matt's brain supplied, but he couldn't find the will to say it out loud. He imagined Fisk's hands, probably twice as large as his, pulling down the waistband of his boxers, slick palm engulfing his, taking his cock in a vice grip, locking him in place- what would it be like, to be pinned by someone so large, to be unable to fight back? Fisk would kill him, no matter what he was saying now- he knew that, he really did, but- but what if?

"I- I want-" he started, but he couldn't finish. His face was hot, and there was no way Fisk wasn't laughing at him. He let out an angry noise and exhaled shakily.

"Yes?" Fisk said. "Tell me."

"I like- pain," Matt managed, finally, and it sounded utterly alien to his ears, this cowed voice coming out of his mouth. But it felt good to finally admit it- he'd never said it before, not to any of his girlfriends, though Elektra had probably had an idea.

Fisk didn't laugh at him, and Matt wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Yes, you do," he said, thoughtfully. "Hmm. You'd like to be thrown around a little bit, wouldn't you? You don't look like you weigh much. It wouldn't be difficult. I could pick you up, pin you to the wall by your neck while I fucked you. You would beg me to make it hurt, wouldn't you?"

Matt gasped, fisting his cock furiously, squeezing out beads of precum that wetted his palm, took away that slight edge of discomfort- he was already perilously close, and Fisk seemed to realize it.

"Calm down," Fisk said, sharply. Matt belatedly realized he was panting. "I didn't say you could come yet."

KSLERIHFJJSFKLDK

Fisk didn't laugh at him, and Matt wasn't sure how to feel about that.

son of a goddamn, there's so much characterization packed in here

"Yes, you do," he said, thoughtfully. "Hmm. You'd like to be thrown around a little bit, wouldn't you? You don't look like you weigh much. It wouldn't be difficult. I could pick you up, pin you to the wall by your neck while I fucked you. You would beg me to make it hurt, wouldn't you?"

aaaaaand that hit my size kink right there

HOW DID I MISS THIS

kaaaaaaren

yup yup yup

This is so good @v@

I am always here for Matt making bad sex choices.

(Just waiting for the phone to die tho. That means Matt would have to CALL HIM BACK, oh ho ho)

OP

this fill. Is. Amazing. The dialogue is great and very much in character. And it's so sweet. ;_;

Jesus, hello Satan, just rip my heart out, why don't you?

don't forget to add a link to this part to your comment on the wip post! (this is so good)

... That's gonna be really awkward when they meet each other in the gallery. >D

The next morning, his knuckles bruised and raw from encounters with the various faces of Turk Barrett's friends and accomplices, Matt headed up the stairs towards their office expecting to hear the usual sounds of Foggy typing and Karen humming softly to herself while she made coffee. He steeled himself for the confrontation he knew he would have to have with Foggy.

Instead he was surprised to hear a loud argument happening, and not between Foggy and Karen. Marci was there.

"- need to fix this. I am not going to lose everything because of some sick, twisted revenge plot orchestrated by that woman to get back at you!" Marci screamed. "Whatever she wants, you give it to her or I'll find out what it is and I will. I mean it."

"What's going on?" Matt said as he opened the door.

"I'm being screwed over is what's going on," said Marci. "Landman and Zack are being absorbed by Sharpe and Associates. Which means that all of the impropriety and criminal activity that Foggy promised me that I would be getting ahead of by exposing is now being swept under the rug, along with my career. They suspended me this morning pending an investigation into whether or not I breached the confidentiality of our clients by providing you with evidence of Fisk and Owlsley's criminal activity."

"They can't do that," Matt said. "The documents you provided clearly show that Landman and Zack engaged in communications with Mr. Fisk and Mr. Owlsley for the purposes of committing fraud. That clearly makes what you did a crime-fraud exception to the rules surrounding attorney-client privilege."

"Except if Fisk gets off and no fraud is ever proven or connected to those documents," Marci said. "In which case, I'll be disbarred. And Rosalind Sharpe and her team are already hard at work, I'm sure, making a case that everything I handed you is inadmissible."

"I don't understand," Karen said. "How can they do that? And why do you think Foggy can do anything about it? You said Fisk's attorney wants revenge?"

"You haven't told them," Marci said. "Not even Matt. Not even after all these years. I can't believe you."

"Marci, please don't..." Foggy said desperately. Matt could still smell the booze on him from the night before. He hadn't showered, and was exhausted.

"Rosalind Sharpe is your friend here's mother," Marci said. "Everything you've worked for over the last few months is about to be destroyed because 15 years ago, he threw a temper tantrum and pissed her off. Not sure why she waited so long to finally deliver the finishing blow, but here we are. What does she want?"

Matt went over what he had heard Rosalind say to Foggy the night before in his mind. Could it possibly be true? Rosalind did refer to Foggy as family. But it didn't fit with what Matt knew about his best friend.

"You're wrong," Matt said to Marci. "I've met Foggy's mother, Marci. His whole family. I don't know why you think that, but..."

"It's the truth, Matt. You've met his stepmother," Marci replied. "Somehow the fairy tale got reversed in little Franklin's case and his birth mother ended up the wicked one. He never told you because they don't talk. Like I said, temper tantrum."

"Stop!" Foggy said. "Marci, I am going to fix this, okay?"

"What. Does. She. Want?" Marci asked. "I know her. She's doing this for a reason, and that reason has to be you."

"I don't know!" Foggy screamed, upset. "I don't know, Marci. Nothing good, I can promise you that."

"Promise me that I didn't throw my entire life away, everything I've worked so hard for, because I trusted you," Marci said. "Can you promise me that, Foggy?" She wielded his nickname like a knife, using it to cut into him and draw blood.

"I'm so sorry," Foggy said."

"That's what I thought," Marci said. "Turns out that after all these years the new you is an even bigger asshole than before. Don't call me unless it's with good news."

With that, she walked out the door.

Matt took a deep breath once the door shut behind Marci and gripped his cane a little tighter trying to get his bearings.

"Your mother?" Karen asked.

Foggy just sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, moving to retreat to his office again, but Karen grabbed him by the arm before he could.

"No, you don't get to walk away today, Foggy. Fisk is being defended by your mother?" Karen asked again.

"What do you want me to say, Karen?" Foggy asked. "She birthed me, yes. But we don't talk. I haven't said one word to the woman since I was 17 years old, alright? And I have no idea why she decided to come to New York and defend Fisk or what she wants!"

He was lying. Matt didn't have to hear how erratically Foggy's heart was beating to know that. Whether he was lying about the state of their relationship or what happened between them, Matt couldn't know. But he had heard Rosalind tell Foggy exactly what she wanted from him the night before.

"You said you never would have kept anything this big from me," Matt said quietly. "That night. The night that you..." He caught himself as he remembered that they weren't alone. "The night that you walked out on me."

"Matt..." Foggy said, his voice desperate and pleading for forgiveness.

"No," Matt said. "I believed you. It didn't matter what anything else was telling me. Your heart. Your body language. You're my friend and I believed you when you said that you knew that you would never lie to me the way I..." He couldn't continue. Not with Karen there.

"It's not the same," Foggy said.

"It changes everything," Matt said. "I don't even know who you are. This entire time..."

"Hurts, doesn't it," Foggy said coldly, and he jerked his arm away from Karen. The office door slammed behind him signalling that their conversation was over.

The rest of the day passed in tense silence as the three of them worked, waiting for the moment when they could all go their separate ways.

Matt forced himself to disconnect his personal drama from the problem at hand and preoccupied himself with research. He needed to know more about Rosalind Sharpe, about how her mind worked and what her connection was to Foggy, about her past and current clients, her most famous cases. If she was playing a game, he wanted to make sure he understood it's rules and could anticipate her next move. He wanted to win.

The more he learned, the more concerned he became. Rosalind's firm, Sharpe and Associates, was one of the most expensive and well-regarded firms in the country. It's client list read like a who's who of American politicians, celebrities, and infamous criminals. She had started the firm herself in the 1980's with one other partner, and in the beginning it was a small New York City firm that worked to represent labor unions and defend working class criminals who'd been harassed or railroaded by the system. There were several infamous cases that she had handled which had seen wrongfully convicted men on death row released when Rosalind won them new trials or brought new evidence to light. But by the end of the 80's her firm had begun to develop troubling ties to New York's Irish and Russian mobs. Their connections to the labor movement began to associate them with corruption and cronyism rather than their initial working class ethos. Rosalind's partnership merged with another and their firm moved it's offices to Boston, began to take on more corporate clients and sensational cases, began to rake in millions of dollars.

Rosalind earned the nickname Razor for the way she could demolish a prosecution's arguments with precision and focus. Her cases were marked by key evidence of guilt being declared inadmissible or never getting to the jury and witnesses being relentlessly grilled on the stand until a jury didn't know whether to believe anything that came out of their mouth. Her cases frequently ended in mistrials or convictions that were overturned on appeal. She loved to slow the system down with protracted battles over every word out of a prosecutor's mouth and wielded minutiae and minor details of a case like they were battle axes.

Matt realized that Foggy may have been right. If Rosalind decided to dig her heels in and make Fisk's case her highest priority, there was a very real possibility that everything could fall apart. The thought terrified him.

Matt wasn't sure where his friend fit into any of it. There was nothing in any of the profiles of Rosalind in newspapers or magazines that mentioned her having a son or juggling a career and a family. He couldn't find any record that she was ever married to Foggy's dad, although he resolved to hunt down further information on when the man had married Anna.

While caught up listening to his screen reader, Matt heard a gentle rapping on his office door. "Come in, Karen," he said, pausing what he was doing.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Matt said. "Just a little shaken up. Surprised."

"Me too," Karen said. "And I haven't known Foggy as long as you have, so I can only imagine how you feel."

"Did you need something?" he asked.

"I just..." Karen said, but then seemed to back away from her thought.

"What is it, Karen?" he asked again, gently to encourage her.

"You should go easy on Foggy," she finally said. "If what he said his true about not talking to his mother, about their relationship, then it can't be easy for him to suddenly have her show up. And I'm sure he didn't tell you for a reason."

"Does that matter?" Matt asked. "He lied, Karen. About something fundamental. Something that I should have known. His mother is a defense attorney. A great one. And all through law school any time that we discussed why we wanted to practice law together, what kind of lawyers we wanted to be, it just never came up? Any time that I spent the holidays with his family, he didn't think that I would want to know that there was an entire history there that changed how he was with them and what they meant to him? And even worse, when we had that fight... I don't want to get into it, but he threw a lot of accusations in my face. He played at being betrayed and hurt, when he knew the entire time that he was being a hypocrite. What am I supposed to do with any of that, Karen?"

"You're supposed to be his friend, Matt," Karen said. "You're supposed to try and understand things from his point of view, and then work from there to get back to a place where you can trust each other again. I still don't know what that fight was about, but I know that he did it for you once, hypocrite or not. And we all have secrets. We all have things that belong to us that we want to keep for ourselves, things about ourselves that we're ashamed of and terrified of facing. We're entitled to that. And Foggy's no different, as much as he might seem to wear his heart on his sleeve. So I think you should talk to him."

"Maybe," said Matt, wondering what Karen's secrets were. "I'll think about it. Thanks, Karen."

"Good night," she said as she left, shutting the door behind her.

awwwright so, i’ve never written anything a/b/o before. i hope this is okay :3 warnings for dub-con because i feel in this sitch nothing can ever be taken as entirely consensual? i promise smut is coming in pt2 heh

The change happened quickly -- swift and physical, surging up through Matt’s body from his heels to his throat. Where he felt it most keenly, though...where it went slick and wet and hot, was between his legs. And that was...Matt felt himself go rigid, senses assaulted by a smell that was both sickly sweet and tangy with the edge of salt.

What was this? What the fuck was this?

He struck out and felt his knuckles collide with a crunch against the mugger’s cheekbone. The girl he had been fighting for -- the one whose purse was still clutched in the mugger’s limp grip -- was stumbling away from them both, and she was gasping, and the smell...

Matt shoved the man away from him with shaking hands and tilted his head back to sniff the air. His stomach, weirdly, was beginning to cramp, and it was a struggle to remain upright and to focus through the thick haze of unfamiliar scent and pain.

Nearby, someone started screaming. A woman, probably, but it could just as easily have been a teenaged boy. High-pitched. Piercing.

Matt snatched the purse from where the man had dropped it before bolting, and pushed it into the girl’s grip.

“What’s happening?” she asked, as she took it from him. Matt could feel a feverish warmth radiating from her, and something else, damp in the air. He couldn’t quite tell which of them it was coming from. He felt sick.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Just...get out of here. Go home.”

“But--”

“Go.” He started running in the direction of the screams before she could call after him.

+++

There were no more people on the streets than was usual, but today, to Matt, it seemed like the number had doubled. The temperatures were all off, with everyone exuding that strange, stifling heat, and any picture that Matt tried to build of his surroundings was sent spiralling into confusion.

All the things he had come to associate with people were being warped, and running down the street was like wading through a sea of animals. An unknown species.

A hand shot out and tried to grab him -- Matt heard a growl, felt nails scrape against his neck as fingers tried to find purchase on his collar, but he shrugged them away with a breathless, full-body jerk. He could still hear screaming but...but it wasn’t coming from one place, anymore. It was all-encompassing, with people everywhere clutching at their own bodies which were...Matt didn’t know.

He didn’t understand what was going on, other than that there was desperation clawing beneath his skin, like hunger, and the air was thick with the onset of panic and also something else. Something cloying, like being pressed up against a wall while someone panted, wet and close, into the crook of his neck.

Someone else grabbed at him and this time Matt stumbled. He felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around his waist, and a mouth brush against his ear. The smell of this person -- man or woman, Matt couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell -- wasn’t like the girl’s. Wasn’t like his own. It was deeper, somehow, like a bass note, and it set something trembling in Matt’s gut.

He felt like he was gaping. Like someone had prised him open from the inside out, leaving him hollowed to the core. Dripping and empty. So fucking empty.

Matt’s movements were slow, dragging through the air, and it seemed to take an age for his hand to connect with the stranger’s head, his fingers grasping at their hair to wrench them away. The action felt inexplicably wrong, sending a jolt of nausea through him, as if he were breaking some vital law of nature.

The second Matt was free, he was staggering away again, his lungs starting to burn, his pants sticking to thighs that were now unbearably wet. He found himself retching as he ran, doubled over, and came to the realisation that there was nothing he could do out here. Whatever was happening, it was too late for him to stop it, and he had to get off the streets now.

It took several deep breaths and one steadying hand, pressed flat against the nearest wall, for Matt to find his bearings. All around him, people were preoccupied with themselves and each other, and it was mayhem, it made no fucking sense, but -- there. There it was. His office, two blocks away, and far closer than his apartment. He had the key with him, he could lock himself in, just for a few hours, just until he could sort out the fucking mess that his body was becoming. His, and as far as he could tell, everyone else’s in the Kitchen.

He pushed himself away from the wall, lowered his head, and kept up the pace the whole way there.

+++

Apparently, Foggy realised as flicked through news updates on his computer, someone had fucked up bad. Otherwise, Twitter wouldn’t be blowing up with shit about wolves that looked like it had been lifted from the ‘erotic literature’ wiki page, and Foggy wouldn’t be squirming in his office chair feeling like he was going to die.

He had been googling symptoms (using an incognito window -- Matt might be blind, but his screen reader and Foggy's internet history were already more intimate than Foggy would like), which were along the lines of ‘horny as fuck’, and had been surprised to find articles from that morning about a crazy ass virus that was sweeping through New York.

Foggy wondered which dickhead of a mad scientist holed up in the Avengers Tower had let loose enough hormones to probably make inanimate objects desperate for a fuck -- but, not for long. He was finding it difficult to concentrate on any one thing while his dick was occupied in being the hardest it had ever been in his life.

Also, he was pretty sure that his sense of smell hadn’t been this strong before, and that was its own kind of distracting, because something nearby smelt really, really good. It was like he’d been given a dose of Matt’s sense-enhancing radiation, and then dumped outside his favourite bakery. A really sexy version. Or something. God.

Foggy groaned and drummed his fingers on his knees to stop himself from reaching into his pants and jerking off inside his office. Foggy had self-restraint, he had control, and he wasn’t going to get come on his perfectly nice desk.

His perfectly nice desk that would probably look perfectly nicer if he had someone bent over it, right about now. Foggy even had a good idea about who that someone would be, if he had any say in the matter, and, fuck, imagining Matt in that position -- bending over for Foggy, with lube dripping out of his ass because Foggy was all about the smooth slide home, Foggy covering him completely, his mouth against the back of Matt’s neck, his hands locked around Matt’s wrists…

Jesus fucking Christ.

Foggy let his head fall back and took a deep, calming breath.

He wasn’t some kind of fucking animal. He wasn’t about to pound his best friend into his desk, and claim him like they were in some weird mating ritual. He’d just been reading those articles for too long -- the ones that used words like ‘alpha’ and ‘omega’ and ‘self-lubricating’...shit, shit, shit.

Foggy was screwed. Foggy was so screwed, and that delicious fucking smell was getting stonger, and...someone was unlocking the door.

Foggy scrambled to his feet, because someone was unlocking the door, and the only other people with keys were Matt and Karen, and seeing either of them while he was in this state would be no good, very bad, but seeing Matt, especially? Foggy felt that seeing Matt would possibly be the baddest of the very bad, no good, to ever bad. Ever.

Which was why, obviously, it was Matt who walked inside.

Oh God. Oh man. This is...um.

...More?

......Please?

eeeeeeeeeeee!!! :D

yaaassssss

Oh wow, this is amazing. So good.

I cleaned this up a bit and it is now readable on the AO3 in one handy piece right here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4591800

Yeah, at this point Fisk would probably recognize Matt's voice in his sleep. Awkward.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 172 of 186

Prompt Post #5

Re: Gen or any, crack: Matt is secretly a redhead

Re: FILL: leave the world outside 5/?

FILL What All This Time Was For (9/9)

Re: FILL What All This Time Was For (9/9)

Re: FILL What All This Time Was For (9/9)

Re: FILL What All This Time Was For (9/9)

Re: Matt vs. Child Soldiers

Re: FILL What All This Time Was For (9/9)

Re: D/s-verse, Matt is a dom

[Fill] Matt/Fisk, Phone sex (3/?)

Re: [Fill] Matt/Fisk, Phone sex (3/?)

Re: Eldritch abominations

Re: [Fill] Matt/Fisk, Phone sex (3/?)

Re: FILL What All This Time Was For (9/9)

Re: Matt/Foggy, in every reality

Re: Matt/Foggy, Dom!Matt, "get down" 2

Re: [Fill] Matt/Fisk, Phone sex (3/?)

FILL: The Price of a Soul (5/?)

[FILL] Re: Sudden A/B/O Universe Matt/Foggy Smut. 1/2

Re: [FILL] Re: Sudden A/B/O Universe Matt/Foggy Smut. 1/2

Re: [FILL] Re: Sudden A/B/O Universe Matt/Foggy Smut. 1/2

Re: [FILL] Re: Sudden A/B/O Universe Matt/Foggy Smut. 1/2

Re: [FILL] Re: Sudden A/B/O Universe Matt/Foggy Smut. 1/2

FILL What All This Time Was For (REPOST)

Re: [Fill] Matt/Fisk, Phone sex (3/?)