Archive of Our Own ^beta

Foggy was in bed reading when Matt appeared at his window. He was in costume - the dramatic black one - and his gloves left bloody prints on the window when he tapped at it softly. Foggy pretended to keep reading his book; Matt tapped harder in response.

He made a show of dog-earing the page and putting it down loudly on his nightstand before he slid out of bed. The chill in his apartment inspired a stiff walk that looked angrier than he felt. Matt’s mouth twisted into a frown like a sewn-up wound about to burst. The exhaustion weighing on Foggy’s shoulders vanished. Something was very wrong for Matt to get upset at a little late-night irritation. Doubly so, now that they were in a state of ‘not talking unless Matt needed a favor.’

Matt’s body crashed on Foggy’s like a wave when he opened the window. The dark fabric had obscured it when he was outside, but Matt was drenched with blood. Instead of ‘hello,’ all Foggy could choke out was, “Oh my God. Is this blood yours ?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Matt mumbled into his neck. He breathed in sharply, completely unsubtle in his efforts to sniff Foggy’s skin. “It’s fine.”

“No, no, no,” said Foggy, pulling away. “It’s not fine. It is very not fine to come in through my window covered in blood that may or may not be yours when we aren’t even speaking.”

Matt took off his cowl and dropped it on the floor. He grabbed a fistful of the front of his costume and sniffed at it. The blood smeared under his nose.

“It’s mostly not mine,” he said as if that was the only issue.

“Wonderful,” deadpanned Foggy. He took off his pajamas, now sticky with other-people’s-blood, and threw them in his hamper. Matt hovered by the nice chair that had mysteriously showed up at Foggy’s door around Christmas. He dropped his gloves to the floor, and wiped his bloody nose on his palm in a tired sort of way.

“Can I -” he said, gesturing to the chair.

Foggy let out an annoyed sigh. He picked up the cowl and gloves and threw them in the hamper as well.

“Costume has to come off first. And you’re paying for my laundry, just so we’re clear.”

Matt reached behind him to unzip the costume. It squelched unpleasantly as he unstuck it from his body.

“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve paid for your laundry for ten years,” he said, throwing the costume in the direction of the hamper. The costume arced gracefully in the air and landed neatly in his laundry basket.

“You’d think it would make you stop showing up covered in blood,” said Foggy. He grabbed a towel hanging from his door and brought it to Matt. “Wipe off the back of your legs too.”

Once he had obeyed, the towel landed in the hamper alongside the rest. He sat in Foggy’s chair, and bent his legs up to his chest. One arm circled his legs; the other swung, a dead weight, by his side. He rested his cheek on his knees, looking desperately sad. There was always too much going on inside his head.

Foggy busied himself with putting on a pair of sweatpants that were hung over his dresser. He was torn between asking if he was in danger and staying in the dark about Hell’s Kitchen’s criminal underworld. What Matt had to say would probably stand Foggy’s hair on end and wouldn’t be a problem by next week. The trappings of Daredevil were a pain but his methods were effective. When Matt let out a shuddering sigh, Foggy took a third option.

“Do you want a pair of sweatpants? I know it’s really cold in here.”

Matt made a noncommittal noise that Foggy chose to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He pulled out a faded pair his last girlfriend left behind.

“Dunno if you care that they’re pink. I think that they’ll fit you better than mine will.”

It seemed rude to toss them in Matt’s direction when he looked so sad. Foggy brought them over to him, hating himself for wanting to be gentle with someone he was trying to cut out of his life. When he held out the sweatpants to Matt, his (ex) friend grabbed his wrist with his leaden arm so tightly that Foggy dropped them. He pulled Foggy closer until Foggy’s thighs were flush with his knees. Matt wrapped his arm around the back of Foggy’s legs and held him there. It was the worst hug Foggy had ever gotten, made even worse by the awkward proximity of Matt’s pretty mouth to his dick. Matt obliviously nuzzled his face into Foggy’s thigh.

“There’s a new cartel,” he said, voice muffled by Foggy’s pants. “The ringleader - she has this - this machine that plays with your mind. Makes you relive things. I heard. . .and I felt -” he swallowed thickly. “I relived a lot of stuff tonight.”

Tentatively, Foggy ran his hand through the back of Matt’s hair. It was stuck up in the back - hat hair - and damp with sweat. A small patch on the back of his head was balding. They were both growing old.

“Aw, man. I’m sorry.”

Matt reached behind his head with his free hand and gripped Foggy’s tight. He pressed their joined hands to his own flushed cheek.

“I had to hear you die again. That day in prison - I relived all of it in an instant. It was -“

“Terrible,” Foggy finished for him.

Matt looked up at Foggy, unseeing eyes directed at his ear.

“I’m here because I needed to make sure you were still alive. You’re the only one I heard tonight who still is.”

Foggy clutched Matt’s shoulder reassuringly.

“I’m alright.”

Matt gave him a patented Matt Murdock Melancholic Smile. It was so difficult to resist pulling him closer when he made that face. He had a thousand miserable lifetimes stretched taut around each other inside him.

“Life is so short, isn’t it?”

Then, Foggy felt a sly hand tuck under his sweatpants. Oh Goddammit . After all this time, Foggy was still falling for these basic booty call moves.

“Did reliving my death make you horny ?” said Foggy incredulously.

“No,” said Matt, looking offended. He didn’t move his hand. “It made me miss you . I miss. . . all of you. I miss. . .us.”

Foggy pulled away from him, head swimming.

“I can’t - we can’t. Not like this. Or ever again,” he stuttered out. His hateful heart betrayed him by pumping blood straight to his cock. The sweatpants tented so prominently that Matt was sure to sense it. Matt got up and walked over to Foggy. He put his calloused hands on each side of Foggy’s face. Then, he closed his eyes and touched their foreheads together.

“Foggy. . . please ,” Matt murmured.

Time slowed and then halted as they shared iron-flavored air. Foggy sunk into a shared melancholy like quicksand. So much loss sat between them. He had to close the gap with his lips before it tore both of them to pieces.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he chanted in between kisses. Foggy stroked Matt’s back, his face, his abs, his arms. He was thinner than the last time they had sex and harder in the chest and shoulders. Anything soft had been crushed out of him in the past several months.

They stumbled over to the bed as though drunk. No amount of touching was enough to fill the hole in his heart. Matt’s kisses were rough and full of half-formed words. He talked too much; he’d be a good lawyer if he ever learned how to show up.

When Foggy finally broke free to pull off his own pants, Matt took his chance to get a word in.

“God - Foggy - it’s been so long-“

“Shut up,” said Foggy in a broken voice. “Or - or I’ll stop.”

A blatant lie that Matt would read like a book. He quieted anyway as he rolled off his own pants. Matt fumbled with the side table where he could surely smell the lube that Foggy kept inside. Foggy grabbed it and squirted a generous amount in Matt’s hand. He squished it in his palm, a look of mild confusion on his face. Foggy rolled his eyes before remembering that Matt wouldn’t be able to tell. He settled on gently patting him on the cheek.

“You came in through the window. You have to do the work tonight.”

Matt nodded, furrowing his brow. He squished the lube in his hand again.

“It’s been a while. You should - I need you to help me out,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Foggy bit back a counter about Matt’s priorities. The sight of Matt’s slick fingers prepared to go inside him was unbearably hot. He grabbed Matt’s hand and led it down to his ass.

“You’re not gonna hurt me. We’ll push against each other. Your finger will go in like a charm,” said Foggy.

“Okay,” Matt breathed. He pressed his finger against Foggy, who pushed back against the pressure. Then, Matt was inside him. Foggy’s face flushed as his body adjusted to the intrusion.

“God, Matt,” he moaned.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” Matt said in a hoarse voice.

“Don’t be weird,” said Foggy. He grabbed Matt’s other hand reassuringly. “Just move your finger. Please.”

Matt worked up to a regular rhythm inside him, responding perfectly to all of Foggy’s moans and sighs. His breath was coming out in sharp huffs as though they were already fucking. He added another finger to stretch Foggy wider.

“Fuck,” said Foggy. He was between the burn of pleasure and pain, wrapped up in the push and pull of Matt’s long, thick fingers. Matt moved their entwined hands to Foggy’s chest, resting unsubtly on his heart. Foggy thumped his head against the pillow and sighed.

“It’s not hot when you check to see if I'm alive,” he said.

Matt frowned but reluctantly pulled his hand away.

“I wasn't,” he said. Before Foggy could respond, Matt rolled his hips against Foggy's leg. He was rock hard; his mouth fell slack. The bastard was giving Foggy a show. “You ready for my cock yet or what?”

God help him, he was a sucker for a personal show from Matt Murdock.

“Mhm,” he moaned.

Foggy hissed through his teeth when Matt pulled out his fingers. Matt squirted another messy handful of lube into his palm and slicked up his gorgeous unprotected cock.

“No, no, no,” murmured Foggy. “Condom. We aren't animals.”

“I'm clean,” said Matt.

Foggy rubbed a hand over his face. He was so hard and Matt was very pretty and he was right goddamn there looking like a cut-up statue of David. If he didn’t get inside Foggy soon, Foggy might actually die.

“Shit. What's one more bad decision tonight?”

Matt gave him a grin that was all teeth. He lined himself up with Foggy and pushed inside. His eyes fluttered shut as he let out a long, slow breath. Then, he flopped his entire body on top of Foggy’s as though trying to get their skin to share as much surface area as possible. His weak thrusting was a sham of a sexual encounter - a welcome intrusion at best. Their entwined bodies overstepped erotic and landed upon uncomfortable. Foggy was sweating profusely.

“Matt,” he said, pushing weakly at his friend’s chest. “We need to go at it from the side. Your muscles are crushing me.”

Matt pushed up on his elbow and touched his forehead to Foggy’s.

“You wanna spoon?” he murmured. Foggy kissed Matt on the lips, relishing the chill of the apartment on his naked cheek. He reached up to stroke Matt's stubbly face. The kiss deepened until Foggy near-forgot that he wanted to do anything but kissing at all. It wasn’t until Matt’s abs were crushing him with renewed, more vigorous thrusting that Foggy broke away.

“Yeah,” said Foggy deliriously. “Yeah we should spoon.”

Matt pulled out slowly. Alarm flashed on his face when Foggy's heart sped up but, mercifully, he kept his weird anxiety to himself. He rolled off of Foggy and gave him a moment to breathe. Matt wiped some sweat off his forehead with the butt of his palm. His muscular body glistened in the dim light.

“It's just unfair how pretty you are,” said Foggy.

Matt quirked him a smartass smile. “I wouldn't know.”

Foggy swatted his arm affectionately. “Bullshit. Thirty years of girls and boys drooling over you has given you more than enough information.”

“Maybe,” said Matt. “But it’s sexier to be self-deprecating.”

Foggy scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Matt reached over to Foggy’s thigh and stroked the inside. His hand wandered over to Foggy’s cock and stroked it with some interest.

“Am I?” he said casually as he tightened his grip. Whatever banter-y nonsense Foggy had planned flew out the window when Matt did. . . that with his wrist.

“Just roll onto your side and fuck me properly,” Foggy groaned. Matt tipped both of them onto their sides. Their legs entwined. Matt’s hard cock pressed insistently at the cleft of Foggy’s ass. He pushed his palm against Foggy’s chest and rolled his hips. The hot breath on Foggy’s neck made him shiver with want.

“I’m gonna push in,” said Matt. Foggy covered Matt’s hand with his own. He nodded. Matt lined himself up properly, pushed, and then was inside Foggy again. Foggy adjusted himself on Matt’s cock, appreciating its girth. Matt clung to him tighter and kissed the back of Foggy’s neck.

“Fuck me,” gasped Foggy. His cock was so hard it ached. Matt thrust into Foggy in a way that was obvious he was holding back. “ Really fuck me!”

Matt sped up his thrusts. His muscles rippled powerfully against Foggy’s back. Behind him, Matt gripped Foggy's metal bedpost for leverage. He yanked himself against it as though he was doing pull-ups. The display of brute strength was absolutely showing off; Foggy was amazed anyway.

Their entwined hands moved lower until they were resting on Foggy’s stomach. Matt pounded into Foggy harder still, clinging onto him for dear life. Foggy let go of his hand and started jerking himself off. Matt’s breathing became heavier in his ear.

“I can -” he gasped, sounding far too close to follow through.

“No,” said Foggy. He sped up his strokes, fucking his hand, cock red with exertion. “Just - just keep going.”

Matt's rhythm became erratic. Each rough thrust was interspersed with heavy breathing. His hand shook against Foggy’s stomach.

“I’m going to cum,” he choked out with what sounded like immense effort. “Can I -”

“Inside me?” said Foggy, pausing the fist-fucking he was giving himself. Matt tucked his head into Foggy’s shoulder.

“Mhm,” he said.

It was so hard to be wise when Matt was buried so deep in his ass.

“Yeah, okay. Cum inside me,” said Foggy through gritted teeth. He gave his cock another long, slow pull. A small amount of precum squirted onto his fist.

Matt rammed into him twice more and then clenched his entire body tight around Foggy as he came violently. He bit down on Foggy’s shoulder as though he would consume him if he could. Then, his body relaxed as though he’d been tranquilized. Matt languidly moved his hand away from Foggy’s stomach to stroke softly at his side. He kissed the nape of Foggy’s neck. Foggy tensed up; he came in his own hand with Matt’s lips pressed against his ear.

When the last of Foggy’s orgasm had been wrung out of him, Matt pulled out of his ass. Then, he clung tightly to Foggy again, one hand on his chest, one gripping his hair. He said nothing; for once in their lives, Foggy was the center of attention.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said. Matt squeezed more tightly around him.

“Okay,” he said. “This is the last time. I promise.”

Foggy sighed and relaxed into Matt’s body.  

“If you could keep promises, we wouldn’t be here right now.”