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daredevilkink2015-08-14 07:00 pm
ddk_mod) wrote in daredevilkink2015-08-14 07:00 pm
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Prompt Post #6
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Fill (2/?) (Matt/Foggy - compelled, not forced, to fuck)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-30 10:12 pm (UTC)(link)“Matt. Hey. We need to talk.”
Through the phone interference and hum of electronics pressed against his ear, Foggy sounds... flat. Dull. Carefully so, to cover the turmoil of what he’s really feeling. Matt’s heart twists and he wets his lips before replying, “Yeah, we do.”
“Meet at my place?” Foggy offers hesitantly.
Matt thinks about what they did the last time they were together at Foggy’s, now about twelve hours ago. Winces at the blur of memories running into another, more flashes of sensation than any discrete images: Foggy’s mouth on his dick, Foggy’s spit-slick fingers in his ass. Biting frantic kisses all over Foggy’s shoulders, licking his nipples until he comes from that alone. A thick thigh between his, the two of them grinding together like graceless teenagers and lasting just about as long.
The silence has dragged on and he fumbles a bit, hoarse: “Maybe it’d be better if you came here.”
“... yeah,” Foggy says after another moment. “I, uh. I haven’t gotten a chance to clean up, yet.”
Matt squeezes his eyes shut: he can only imagine the mess Foggy’s faced with right now. Environmentally and personally. Dammit, he shouldn’t have run off, left Foggy to wake up alone in the wreckage of his apartment, his feelings, no matter how discombobulated he was. Murdock, you utter heel.
“I’ll bring your gear,” Foggy is continuing. “You, um, left most of it here. Last night.”
“I know.” Matt feels a stab of true gratitude; the hand-crafted armor would be a lot harder to replace than the get-up he’d cobbled together from internet purchases. “Thanks.”
“So... maybe we can talk over something to eat?” Foggy’s attempt at a laugh is anemic at best. “After the workout we put each other through, I could use a few thousand more calories or so. And protein, lots of protein.”
“I’ll order something in,” Matt says in a hasty attempt to distract from why they both need to load up on protein. “Thai all right?”
“Thai sounds great. I’ll see you in a bit?”
It’s a tentative version of their usual arrangements but Matt’s grasping at anything resembling normalcy. “Yeah, I’ll call it in. See you in a few.”
Fifteen minutes later Matt can hear Foggy’s familiar heartbeat outside in the street, elevated with perfectly understandable nervousness. Matt tracks the rapid th-thump as it makes its way up his building and approaches his door from down the hallway as he moves across his living room to let Foggy in.
Halfway to the door, arousal hits him so hard it leaves him dizzy, reeling and clutching at the wall to keep upright. Dimly he hears Foggy gasp, then groan, scrabbling frantically at the doorknob. How Matt finds the coordination to stagger down the hall and unlock the door to let him in, he has no idea. Foggy falls into him, all hungry hands and teeth, and Matt yanks him inside and slams the door behind him.
They wreck Matt’s apartment too.
And now here they are, Foggy still staring at him from across the ruins of his couch and Matt turned deliberately away from his friend as he paces his end of the living room. Thank god it’s the weekend and they don’t have to explain to Karen why one of them can’t be in the office as the same time as the other right now. They’ve already scarred the delivery boy.
“I was going to say that last night was a mistake,” Foggy starts. “A sexy as hell mistake because, you know, I’ve seen you, but still a mistake.” He pauses, grits his teeth; Matt can hear them grinding from across the room. “I’m starting to think it was more than just a mistake.”
“A -- a--“ Matt searches for the right word, uncharacteristically thick-tongued. “A compulsion.”
“An artificial one,” Foggy concurs. “Because it’s not that I don’t love you, man, but not like this, you know?”
“I know.” There’s a small, shameful part of him that’s relieved to know Foggy feels the same way about all of this: that it’s wrong, forced on them by some outside influence. Nothing they’d do if they could retain their right minds around each other. Because he loves Foggy, his friend, his brother, but not like that.
“It’s got to be related to that thing you busted up last night.”
Matt’s long since come to the same conclusion. There’s nothing else it could be, no other weird incidents common to the both of them. Though it was only chance that had Foggy out near the docks, waiting to meet a skittish client before getting tangled up with Daredevil’s impromptu raid. He bursts out, “Foggy, I’m so sorry--”
“Yeah, no,” Foggy interrupts with a sharply-raised hand. “How about we both agree to cut each other some slack on this one? You can’t help wanting to fuck my brains out, I can’t help wanting to fuck your brains out, and we certainly both can’t help wanting to get our brains fucked out by each other. So let’s table any blame for now because they sure as hell never covered wacky pan-dimensional brain scramblers when discussing consent in any of my sex-ed classes and I doubt the nuns at whatever Catholic high school you went to did either.”
In spite of the situation, Matthew snorts at the mental image of Sister Mary Eunice addressing the intricacies of giving consent while under the influence. Alien, that is. “There we go,” Foggy says approvingly. “Always look on the bright side of life.”
“Mm.” Matt sobers again. “Still, this is my fault. If you hadn’t gotten caught up in that mess--”
“--someone else would have taken it in the face and you’d be fucking a complete stranger instead. I’m not thrilled about this but at least you’re sucking face with your best friend instead of a John or Jane Doe who might have more of a life to wreck than me. Or one of the guys you were previously beating on. Ugh.”
“In spite of how incredibly, excruciatingly awkward this makes our friendship,” Matt feels he has to point out. He’s a masochist, he has to be. He hears Foggy’s hiss of breath, can almost picture the wince in his mind’s eye, winces himself.
“Yeah, well. The situation isn’t perfect, I admit it.” Foggy shakes his head. “But it still isn’t your fault.”
“Mm.” It’s a placeholder noise, an I-don’t-agree-with-your-assessment-but-we-have-more-important-things-to-worry-about noise and they both know it, but Foggy tacitly agrees to disagree on this point for the moment when he doesn’t call Matt out on it. A brooding silence descends, broken only by what sounds like Foggy collecting scattered couch cushions for lack of anything more effective to do.
“I suppose it could be worse,” he offers after a moment of putting the furniture back to rights. Matt blinks, arches a brow in inquiry, and he points out succinctly, “We could be trying to kill each other rather than trying to fuck each other.”
The thought is enough to make Matt blanch. In a physical altercation between the two of them, it’s Matt winning ninety-nine times out of a hundred, and if he were to attack Foggy with any sort of lethal intent-- “You have,” he manages, throat dry, trying to erase the thought of Foggy’s neck in his hands, “a very good point.”
“I generally tend to.” A whumph of displaced air indicates Foggy collapsing onto the couch. “So we’re agreed that something is messing with us, correct?” His voice is directed at the ceiling; he’s likely staring up at it. “In a really fucked up but thankfully non-terminal way?”
“Agreed. The pertinent question seems to be: now what?”
“Well, I’m going to go home and not-have a crisis of sexual identity,” is the matter-of-fact reply, eliciting a snort of amusement from Matt. “Though maybe a shower. Definitely a shower. You are going to call the Thai place to try to get off their delivery blacklist, and also find something to eat as originally planned.”
So, damage control. As much as they can manage separately, and for the short-term, but damage control. “We should also clean up our respective apartments,” Matt says, rueful. He’s going to need to be careful for the time being; furniture’s been shoved out of place everywhere and he doesn’t fancy stubbing his toes on everything because he got careless.
“I may douse my entire place with hand sanitizer,” Foggy tells him. “No offense.”
“Some taken, but I may have to do the same.” It reeks of sex in here. It’s going to reek of sex for days. Matt actually considers buying a candle or lighting incense because otherwise every minute spent in his place is going to be an olfactory reminder of what he and Foggy have done and he really doesn’t need that right now.
“Oh. Right.” Planning stalls into momentary silence as Foggy seems to realize just what that means for Matt and his enhanced sense of smell. But he forges on, bringing up another pertinent point: “So what do we tell Karen?”
Matt presses his lips together, the thought of explaining this mess to their friend becoming a hot embarrassed glow in his stomach. “Hopefully we can resolve this before it becomes necessary,” he says, but that’s not an answer and he sighs. “I don’t know. One of us can call in sick for the time being, but it’s obviously not a long-term solution.”
“And I don’t think she’ll buy ‘whoops, we got drunk and accidentally fell on each other’s dicks’ as a reasonable excuse for avoiding each other,” Foggy says, then pauses as Matt hides his face in his palm.. “Too soon?”
“Too soon,” Matt tells him from behind his hand, then sighs, shoulders slumping. “Though maybe she would. Half the people we know already think we’re dating anyway and the other half seem to be waiting for us to start.”
“True enough.” Foggy accepts this as a matter of course. They’ve both dealt with misunderstandings of this nature multiple times as just another aspect of their close friendship. “An awkward drunken hookup to kick things off leading to avoidance until the both of us get over ourselves and talk it out like rational adults -- sounds plausible.” A bit of a mischievous grin enters his voice as he says, “After we fix this, want to stage a messy breakup?”
“So soon?” Matt asks, miming hurt and a shot to the heart. Foggy laughs and he smiles, glad to hear it in the midst of this mess. “Might be fun. Though it can’t be that messy, we still have a business to run together.”
“I get custody of Karen,” Foggy says immediately. “No offense, buddy, but your WPM is shit.”
“I make better coffee,” Matt fires back. Foggy hums in an exaggeratedly reflective manner, audibly weighing the pros and cons.
“A salient point. Partial custody in exchange for a Keurig machine?”
“In your caffeine-addled dreams, Nelson.” Foggy whines, and it feels nice, it feels great to be able to banter with Foggy like normal in spite of what has occurred between them. What might occur again, no matter what precautions they take. Matt’s smile is fond as he says, “You know, in spite of everything, I’m sort of glad you’re the one in this with me. Even if you only love me for my coffee-making skills.”
There’s a sweep of air; Foggy seems to have dipped into a sitting bow. “Matt Murdock, you’re the only one I’d want to be compelled to fuck,” he says grandly. Then he pauses, audibly winces. “Wait, no, that came out wrong.”
Matt laughs, warm with appreciation for his friend. “I get it, don’t worry.”
“Oh good, because I’m not sure I do.”
Re: Fill (2/?) (Matt/Foggy - compelled, not forced, to fuck)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-31 07:27 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fill (2/?) (Matt/Foggy - compelled, not forced, to fuck)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-31 09:20 am (UTC)(link)Ugh oh, I feel like something really bad is going to happen, they're too--zen and happy. Something terrible like 'they're going to have potentially life-threatening withdrawal symptoms' and shit like that.
Re: Fill (2/?) (Matt/Foggy - compelled, not forced, to fuck)
(Anonymous) 2015-08-31 10:45 am (UTC)(link)you're absolutely right, they're too zen and happy. things are about to go to hell because foggy joking and matt Not Thinking About Things can only last so long.
Re: Fill (2/?) (Matt/Foggy - compelled, not forced, to fuck)
(Anonymous) 2015-09-08 04:37 pm (UTC)(link)But look at you! You're handling it so delightfully! I love that you're actually putting real work out, fleshing it out with conversation and narration, and handling the boys' voices so well. I love how they're approaching it calmly and rationally and still speaking to one another even though it's awkward.
and as much as I love, love, love get-together fics and would be madly cheering for this to be one, I think I would love and enthusiastically re-read this even if they remain just bros. It'd be a funny 'superhero antics' story to tell, no?