Foggy closed the door to Matt’s office behind him, relishing that, for once, he could make Matt look surprised.
“Why’d you let Marci go?” he said. He leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You heard what I said,” Matt said, trying to look cool and unruffled, and failing.
“I heard the bullshit you fed Wesley. Tell me why.”
Matt took off his glasses and ran his hand over his face. “There was no point in getting her involved. It would just create more problems down the road.”
Foggy made a buzzer noise. “Enh. Bullshit. Try again.”
“Fuck’s sake, Franklin, what do you want me to say?”
“Try the truth.” Foggy knew he should be more scared, that Matt could hurt him in more ways than he could possibly imagine. But then he remembered Matt’s hand on his arm, telling him to stay quiet and let him do the talking.
“Look, you and I both know Wesley gets off on making people do whatever he wants - he’s a dick. I’m not about to beat up some girl just because she wanted to get laid.”
Foggy watched Matt fidget with something on his desk about the size of a pen, and realized it was a sort of dart.
“What about me?” he said.
Matt pressed the tip of the dart into the desk. Not hard, just enough to mark it. He was frowning tightly.
“I don’t see the point in controlling every aspect of your life,” Matt said. The dart scraped a sharp line into the top of the desk.
Foggy nodded and crossed the office in just a few strides. He stepped around the desk, leaned down, and kissed Matt full on the mouth. Matt didn’t move, not even when Foggy stepped back and walked away from him. As Foggy opened the door, he heard a weak “Franklin” from behind him, but he ignored it, didn’t even look back as he left Matt’s office and fled to his own. Matt didn’t follow him.
In his office, behind his closed door, Foggy slumped in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. If he was any judge, it couldn’t have gone better. He’d debated maybe blowing Matt, but decided that a kiss was more intimate, and fleeing after would keep Matt off balance. And if Matt was unsure about Foggy’s feelings, well, hey, that made two of them. Foggy fought down the tiny rumblings of guilt for manipulating Matt. He hadn’t asked for any of this, being raped and threatened and pimped out, and he was determined to find a way out, and Matt looked like the key to that.
And maybe…maybe Matt wanted out of here, too.
If he kept thinking about kissing Matt, well, he could use that.
But whatever he was doing with Matt, it didn’t change how Wesley used him. Wesley made good on his intimation of expanding Foggy’s duties. He had standing appointments with Van Lunt and Landman every week; Van Lunt still enjoyed fucking him hard and called him “sugar”, while Landman left instructions that Foggy was to be naked and prepped by the time he got to the hotel suite. Landman fucked him quickly and efficiently, and wasted no words either expressing pleasure or disappointment.
Once, Foggy tried to guess where the hidden camera was, but gave up, since they already had enough photos, and Wesley would notice if Foggy found the camera.
When Donovan won his court case, Foggy got a text from Wesley with an address and instructions to “be accommodating.” It turned out to be Donovan’s apartment, where Foggy first sucked Donovan until he was hard, then got on all fours so Donovan could fuck him. Donovan treated him with the same detached, impersonal manner he always used, whether Foggy was sucking his cock or outlining a relevant precedent.
A few days later, Wesley sent Foggy to the hotel suite early one morning, and Foggy found himself responsible for entertaining a man named Lee, who turned out to be the son of Leland Owlsley, who Foggy had seen in the offices. Lee was only a little older than Foggy, wore a wedding ring, and seemed under the impression that Foggy was an escort his father had hired. Foggy didn’t disabuse him of the notion. Lee liked having his ass serviced, and Foggy found that he was far past the point of caring what he was told to do. He obediently knelt behind Lee and licked his hole until Lee was ordering him to fuck him, then put on a condom and obeyed every order Lee moaned out until Lee came all over the sheets.
At the end of the afternoon, Lee left to have dinner with his father, and put an envelope full of cash on the bedside table. Foggy counted it when he got home.
All of which meant he was used to getting curt texts from Wesley with an address and a time and a code word: “treat” meant he was only supposed to give blowjobs, while “accommodate” meant he had to acquiesce to whatever the other person wanted. This particular night was a sixth-floor walkup apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, not far from Foggy’s own apartment. He was supposed to arrive by 11, and be accommodating. Climbing the stairs, Foggy wondered who it was, remembered some of the people he’d seen in the office, meeting with Fisk. The state Senator, maybe, or the pair of tattooed Russians in leather jackets. He hoped it wasn’t the latter.
What he wasn’t expecting was Matt opening the door, wearing just a hoodie and sweatpants and no glasses.
“Oh, Jesus,” Matt swore, running his hand through his wet hair. He looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower. “I told Wesley -“ He shook his head, and walked into the apartment, leaving Foggy confused and standing in the hall.
“Do you want me to go?” he called.
“What?” Matt said. “No! No, just - yeah, come in.”
Foggy stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“Everything OK?” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, it’s just -“ Matt picked up the towel he’d apparently dropped and rubbed it over his hair. “You want to get a drink?”
This wasn’t usually how these assignments went.
“Yeah, sure,” Foggy said. Matt nodded.
“Give me a sec, I’ll get dressed.”
He slid the door to his bedroom closed, leaving Foggy in the living room. There was a pile of black clothing near the bathroom door, and a Japanese sword in its sheath leaning against the wall. Foggy decided he didn’t want to know about those, and for want of something better to do, Foggy wandered to the window, staring at the brightly-lit billboard atop the building across the street. CGI cherry blossoms cascaded across the screen, advertising a Chinese airline.
He heard the bedroom door slide open, and turned to see Matt in a sweater and jeans, his glasses back on. He allowed himself to admire the way the sweater stretched across Matt’s chest as Matt said, “Let’s go.”
Foggy was expecting Matt to have expensive tastes in bars, so he was surprised when Matt led him to a hole-in-the-wall bar whose red neon sign in the window said its name was Josie’s. No-one gave them a second glance except the woman behind the bar, who slid a bottle down at them. Matt caught it effortlessly, and reached over the bar to snag two glasses.
“How do you do that?” Foggy said.
“Hm?” Matt poured out two drinks and slid one over to Foggy.
“You’re blind.”
“So they tell me.”
“But you caught that bottle. And you knew there were glasses in front of us.”
“Maybe I just drink here a lot.”
Foggy reached out to grab the bottle, and Matt moved it out of his reach.
“Yeah, sure,” Foggy said. He took a sip of…whatever it was, and promptly coughed. Matt took a sip as elegantly as if it were a hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey. “What is that?”
“Josie’s never told me,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. “I have it on good authority that there’s an eel in it, though.” He held up the bottle, and Foggy could see a small coil at the bottom.
“Yup. Something like that.” Foggy took another drink. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Some sort of expression flitted across Matt’s face, and then he just looked sad. “It’s better if you don’t ask any questions, Franklin,” he said, taking a drink.
Hearing his full name, Foggy made a decision.
“Foggy,” he said. “You can call me Foggy. All of my friends do.”
He couldn’t put a name to the look on Matt’s face.
“Are we friends?” Matt asked, very, very softly.
“I don’t know,” Foggy said honestly.
Matt poured himself another drink.
“It was an accident,” he said. “I was nine. Chemical spill, blinded me, and the rest of my senses…you know how they say that when you lose one sense, the others get sharper to compensate?” “Yeah.”
“As far as I know, it’s not true. But for me…I lost my sight, and gained…so much more.”
“So, you’ve got, what? Super-senses?”
Matt grinned. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Like what?”
“I know what you had for breakfast. Egg on a roll, from the bodega on 37th. You like those, you have them all the time. And I know your heart’s speeding up when I’m telling you this.”
“You can hear heartbeats?”
“Helps to anticipate behavior. Tell when someone’s lying.” Foggy thought he almost panicked, then Matt put his hand on his knee. “Relax, I don’t…” He sighed and took another drink, leaving his hand on Foggy’s leg. “I don’t blame you, wanting to keep some things to yourself.”
Foggy didn’t know what to say to that, but Matt’s hand was still on his leg, so all his careful planning might not be in vain.
“I’m not the only one,” he said.
Matt chuckled. “You have no idea.”
When they finished their drinks, Matt paid Josie and let Foggy guide him out of the bar. He tugged at Foggy’s arm as they turned down the sidewalk.
“Do you…want to come back with me?” Matt said, and Foggy could feel his fingers fidgeting with his coat sleeve.
“I thought I didn’t have a choice,” Foggy said, and wondered if he’d gone too far, but Matt just reached up, his cane dangling from his wrist, and brushed Foggy’s hair back from his face.
“Of course you do,” he said. “Foggy.” The name came out as if Matt were testing it.
And Foggy realized that he could walk away right now, and Matt would never tell Wesley.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed Matt. Tentatively, almost chastely, until Matt slid his hand around to the back of Foggy’s neck and deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into Foggy’s mouth.
“Say it,” Matt whispered as he broke the kiss.
“I want to come back with you,” Foggy said, knowing that Matt was listening for a lie.
Re: Fill - No Choice At All [5a/?]
***
Foggy closed the door to Matt’s office behind him, relishing that, for once, he could make Matt look surprised.
“Why’d you let Marci go?” he said. He leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You heard what I said,” Matt said, trying to look cool and unruffled, and failing.
“I heard the bullshit you fed Wesley. Tell me why.”
Matt took off his glasses and ran his hand over his face. “There was no point in getting her involved. It would just create more problems down the road.”
Foggy made a buzzer noise. “Enh. Bullshit. Try again.”
“Fuck’s sake, Franklin, what do you want me to say?”
“Try the truth.” Foggy knew he should be more scared, that Matt could hurt him in more ways than he could possibly imagine. But then he remembered Matt’s hand on his arm, telling him to stay quiet and let him do the talking.
“Look, you and I both know Wesley gets off on making people do whatever he wants - he’s a dick. I’m not about to beat up some girl just because she wanted to get laid.”
Foggy watched Matt fidget with something on his desk about the size of a pen, and realized it was a sort of dart.
“What about me?” he said.
Matt pressed the tip of the dart into the desk. Not hard, just enough to mark it. He was frowning tightly.
“I don’t see the point in controlling every aspect of your life,” Matt said. The dart scraped a sharp line into the top of the desk.
Foggy nodded and crossed the office in just a few strides. He stepped around the desk, leaned down, and kissed Matt full on the mouth. Matt didn’t move, not even when Foggy stepped back and walked away from him. As Foggy opened the door, he heard a weak “Franklin” from behind him, but he ignored it, didn’t even look back as he left Matt’s office and fled to his own. Matt didn’t follow him.
In his office, behind his closed door, Foggy slumped in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. If he was any judge, it couldn’t have gone better. He’d debated maybe blowing Matt, but decided that a kiss was more intimate, and fleeing after would keep Matt off balance. And if Matt was unsure about Foggy’s feelings, well, hey, that made two of them. Foggy fought down the tiny rumblings of guilt for manipulating Matt. He hadn’t asked for any of this, being raped and threatened and pimped out, and he was determined to find a way out, and Matt looked like the key to that.
And maybe…maybe Matt wanted out of here, too.
If he kept thinking about kissing Matt, well, he could use that.
But whatever he was doing with Matt, it didn’t change how Wesley used him. Wesley made good on his intimation of expanding Foggy’s duties. He had standing appointments with Van Lunt and Landman every week; Van Lunt still enjoyed fucking him hard and called him “sugar”, while Landman left instructions that Foggy was to be naked and prepped by the time he got to the hotel suite. Landman fucked him quickly and efficiently, and wasted no words either expressing pleasure or disappointment.
Once, Foggy tried to guess where the hidden camera was, but gave up, since they already had enough photos, and Wesley would notice if Foggy found the camera.
When Donovan won his court case, Foggy got a text from Wesley with an address and instructions to “be accommodating.” It turned out to be Donovan’s apartment, where Foggy first sucked Donovan until he was hard, then got on all fours so Donovan could fuck him. Donovan treated him with the same detached, impersonal manner he always used, whether Foggy was sucking his cock or outlining a relevant precedent.
A few days later, Wesley sent Foggy to the hotel suite early one morning, and Foggy found himself responsible for entertaining a man named Lee, who turned out to be the son of Leland Owlsley, who Foggy had seen in the offices. Lee was only a little older than Foggy, wore a wedding ring, and seemed under the impression that Foggy was an escort his father had hired. Foggy didn’t disabuse him of the notion. Lee liked having his ass serviced, and Foggy found that he was far past the point of caring what he was told to do. He obediently knelt behind Lee and licked his hole until Lee was ordering him to fuck him, then put on a condom and obeyed every order Lee moaned out until Lee came all over the sheets.
At the end of the afternoon, Lee left to have dinner with his father, and put an envelope full of cash on the bedside table. Foggy counted it when he got home.
All of which meant he was used to getting curt texts from Wesley with an address and a time and a code word: “treat” meant he was only supposed to give blowjobs, while “accommodate” meant he had to acquiesce to whatever the other person wanted. This particular night was a sixth-floor walkup apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, not far from Foggy’s own apartment. He was supposed to arrive by 11, and be accommodating. Climbing the stairs, Foggy wondered who it was, remembered some of the people he’d seen in the office, meeting with Fisk. The state Senator, maybe, or the pair of tattooed Russians in leather jackets. He hoped it wasn’t the latter.
What he wasn’t expecting was Matt opening the door, wearing just a hoodie and sweatpants and no glasses.
“Oh, Jesus,” Matt swore, running his hand through his wet hair. He looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower. “I told Wesley -“ He shook his head, and walked into the apartment, leaving Foggy confused and standing in the hall.
“Do you want me to go?” he called.
“What?” Matt said. “No! No, just - yeah, come in.”
Foggy stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“Everything OK?” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, it’s just -“ Matt picked up the towel he’d apparently dropped and rubbed it over his hair. “You want to get a drink?”
This wasn’t usually how these assignments went.
“Yeah, sure,” Foggy said. Matt nodded.
“Give me a sec, I’ll get dressed.”
He slid the door to his bedroom closed, leaving Foggy in the living room. There was a pile of black clothing near the bathroom door, and a Japanese sword in its sheath leaning against the wall. Foggy decided he didn’t want to know about those, and for want of something better to do, Foggy wandered to the window, staring at the brightly-lit billboard atop the building across the street. CGI cherry blossoms cascaded across the screen, advertising a Chinese airline.
He heard the bedroom door slide open, and turned to see Matt in a sweater and jeans, his glasses back on. He allowed himself to admire the way the sweater stretched across Matt’s chest as Matt said, “Let’s go.”
Foggy was expecting Matt to have expensive tastes in bars, so he was surprised when Matt led him to a hole-in-the-wall bar whose red neon sign in the window said its name was Josie’s. No-one gave them a second glance except the woman behind the bar, who slid a bottle down at them. Matt caught it effortlessly, and reached over the bar to snag two glasses.
“How do you do that?” Foggy said.
“Hm?” Matt poured out two drinks and slid one over to Foggy.
“You’re blind.”
“So they tell me.”
“But you caught that bottle. And you knew there were glasses in front of us.”
“Maybe I just drink here a lot.”
Foggy reached out to grab the bottle, and Matt moved it out of his reach.
“Yeah, sure,” Foggy said. He took a sip of…whatever it was, and promptly coughed. Matt took a sip as elegantly as if it were a hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey. “What is that?”
“Josie’s never told me,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a grin. “I have it on good authority that there’s an eel in it, though.” He held up the bottle, and Foggy could see a small coil at the bottom.
“Yup. Something like that.” Foggy took another drink. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Some sort of expression flitted across Matt’s face, and then he just looked sad. “It’s better if you don’t ask any questions, Franklin,” he said, taking a drink.
Hearing his full name, Foggy made a decision.
“Foggy,” he said. “You can call me Foggy. All of my friends do.”
He couldn’t put a name to the look on Matt’s face.
“Are we friends?” Matt asked, very, very softly.
“I don’t know,” Foggy said honestly.
Matt poured himself another drink.
“It was an accident,” he said. “I was nine. Chemical spill, blinded me, and the rest of my senses…you know how they say that when you lose one sense, the others get sharper to compensate?”
“Yeah.”
“As far as I know, it’s not true. But for me…I lost my sight, and gained…so much more.”
“So, you’ve got, what? Super-senses?”
Matt grinned. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Like what?”
“I know what you had for breakfast. Egg on a roll, from the bodega on 37th. You like those, you have them all the time. And I know your heart’s speeding up when I’m telling you this.”
“You can hear heartbeats?”
“Helps to anticipate behavior. Tell when someone’s lying.” Foggy thought he almost panicked, then Matt put his hand on his knee. “Relax, I don’t…” He sighed and took another drink, leaving his hand on Foggy’s leg. “I don’t blame you, wanting to keep some things to yourself.”
Foggy didn’t know what to say to that, but Matt’s hand was still on his leg, so all his careful planning might not be in vain.
“I’m not the only one,” he said.
Matt chuckled. “You have no idea.”
When they finished their drinks, Matt paid Josie and let Foggy guide him out of the bar. He tugged at Foggy’s arm as they turned down the sidewalk.
“Do you…want to come back with me?” Matt said, and Foggy could feel his fingers fidgeting with his coat sleeve.
“I thought I didn’t have a choice,” Foggy said, and wondered if he’d gone too far, but Matt just reached up, his cane dangling from his wrist, and brushed Foggy’s hair back from his face.
“Of course you do,” he said. “Foggy.” The name came out as if Matt were testing it.
And Foggy realized that he could walk away right now, and Matt would never tell Wesley.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed Matt. Tentatively, almost chastely, until Matt slid his hand around to the back of Foggy’s neck and deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into Foggy’s mouth.
“Say it,” Matt whispered as he broke the kiss.
“I want to come back with you,” Foggy said, knowing that Matt was listening for a lie.