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i'll treat you right (be mine tonight)

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“The good guys normally don’t bother with people like me,” Foggy says, because damsels in distress don’t sell their time to assholes who don’t listen to parameters because they think a fistful of cash means they can do whatever they want. This guy wanted to fuck him in an alley and intended to do so whether Foggy liked it or not, and he was stronger. It was going to happen if Daredevil didn’t come out of the shadows.

The guy made it out of the alley with a face that will be unrecognizable for a while, which leaves Foggy here, alone with a guy dressed in a full body devil costume.

“People like you?” Daredevil asks, voice low and rough in a way that sends a confusing shiver down Foggy’s spine.

Foggy knows the proper, humanizing term is sex worker, but something about his heart pounding and his clothes in disarray doesn’t even let him say that.

“I’m just glad I got paid in advance,” he says, trying to smile.

“. . .right,” Daredevil says, after a moment. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

“There’s a stop a few blocks from here,” Foggy says. “I can get back on my own.”

“Good,” Daredevil says. He lifts his hand for a moment like he’s going to touch Foggy, but he doesn’t, which is—it’s good. Foggy doesn’t want to be touched right now, even if it’s just a reassuring pat on the shoulder from a sympathetic vigilante.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, softly, clearing his throat before he adds, “Thanks. For saving me.”

“Just glad I was here on time,” Daredevil says. “Be careful.”

Foggy’s always careful, in a very relative way.

On his way home, he feels like he’s being watched the whole time. Part of him thinks that Daredevil might be making sure that he makes it back in one piece, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Surely he’s got more important people to stalk.

*

This guy’s too pretty to be picking Foggy up. If he didn’t need the money, Foggy wouldn’t take the risk that he’s a Ted Bundy type and he might end up chopped into pieces before the night’s over. Making rent this month might be worth the chance of his legacy being unnamed brutally murdered prostitute.

“Can I take you back to my place?” Matt asks. He told Foggy his name and Foggy doesn’t even think that it’s a fake one.

“Yeah, sure,” Foggy says. “Do you want to talk about what you want? I don’t do surprises, so I’ll need a game plan.”

“I can see how that might go poorly,” Matt says. He’s got this smile, faint and gentle, that makes Foggy think he can’t possibly be a serial killer. Or, if he is, he’s exceptionally good at faking empathy. “I want sushi, I think.”

“. . .like, to eat?” Foggy asks. “Or is that a sex act I don’t know about? I can’t believe there’s a sex act I don’t know about.”

“I mean takeout,” Matt says, laughing. “Do you like sushi? We can go somewhere else.”

“No,” he says, suspiciously. “I like sushi.”

Maybe it’s some kind of weird fetish. Maybe he’s going to eat it off Foggy’s body or something—it doesn’t really make sense because the visual would be completely lost on him, considering the blind thing, but weirder things have happened.

*

“. . .you realize you have to pay me, right?” Foggy asks.

He’s been hanging out with Matt for two hours, eating and talking, and it’s felt—normal. This part of Foggy’s life has never felt normal.

“I already paid you.”

“Yes, and we haven’t done anything,” Foggy says. “I can’t give you a refund if you back out. You don’t have a receipt.”

Matt’s face lights up when he laughs. Foggy wishes they’d met some other way, because he sort of wants to kiss him and that’s dangerous territory.

“I just wanted this,” he says, vaguely gesturing at the remains of their food. “If your time is up, you can leave.”

This isn’t the first time that a client’s paid Foggy for something other than sex, but it’s always been something sexual. Matt just looks like he’s happy, calm—content. Foggy kind of wants to give him his number. Call me any time you want to pay me to chill with you, you ridiculous person.

“I have to,” Foggy says, getting to his feet and finding the shoes he kicked off earlier, “but this was fun.”

“How can I find you again?” Matt asks.

“I—stick to the same area,” Foggy says, standing in front of him and shifting on his feet.

“How about tomorrow night?” Matt asks. “You can come here instead of going out.”

This whole thing is starting to get familiar.

“Are you trying to save me?” Foggy asks, sighing.

“Save you?”

“Try to talk me out of doing this shit,” he says. “Bring me to the Lord or something. Which, y’know, is sweet, but missionary types never seem to offer suggestions of another night job that pays like this one.”

“No,” Matt says, looking kind of guilty, like that’s definitely what he’s doing. “No, I’m not proselytizing, I just—I just wanted company.”

“Sure,” Foggy says. “So, tomorrow?”

“Same time?” Matt asks.

*

Matt becomes a regular, every Saturday and Sunday night. They eat and talk and watch movies—Foggy narrates and tries to pretend like making Matt laugh isn’t one of the better parts.of his week—and Matt pays an amount that could get him pretty much anything that he wanted.

The closest he gets to fucking Foggy is cuddling, which he doesn’t even ask for. It’s a natural gravitational kind of thing. Spend enough time on a couch with someone like Matt and you’ll end up clinging to him like a koala.

Foggy’d give it up in a heartbeat, has spent too long thinking about taking Matt to his bedroom and spreading his legs for him, but this is nice. Apparently, he can have something nice—relatively, at least.

Matt’s money means he can skip a couple of nights and there hasn’t been anything particularly traumatizing happening with his other clients. Mostly repeat customers, guys who just want to rough someone up who has to take it so they can take out their feelings. Foggy can handle that.

And then Foggy gets his prestigious internship.

*

“Shit,” he says, softly, when he sees Matt step into the room where the rest of the L&Z interns are gathered. He looks nice, well-fitted suit and carefully combed hair. It’s a different Matt than he’s used to.

“I know,” Marci murmurs back. “I wonder what the policy is on fraternizing with interns.”

“I imagine it’s not encouraged,” he says, trying to breathe and almost choking when Matt settles in a chair with the rest of the real lawyers and turns his face towards Foggy, eyebrows knit together. He must have heard his voice or something.

Maybe they’ll both just pretend this isn’t happening.

Maybe he won’t ruin Foggy’s life.

*

“Hey,” Matt says, softly, catching Foggy in the hallway. “Can we talk?”

All of the interns had to introduce themselves. There’s no way that Matt wasn’t going to recognize him, not after

“Oh god,” Foggy says, involuntarily. “Yeah, yes—yes, sir.”

Matt looks startled at that. Foggy wants to die.

He follows Matt to his office and lets out a long shaky breath as soon as the door’s closed, clapping his hands once for emphasis.

So, I’m a law student when I’m not fucking guys for cash,” he says, trying not to sound as hysterical as he feels. “Let’s just get that out of the way.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Matt says, immediately.

“And I won’t tell anyone that you’re a john,” Foggy says. It just occurred to him that there’s an element of mutually assured destruction here that might keep Foggy from getting disbarred before he’s even—barred.

Matt takes a moment before he nods.

“Fair enough,” he says, faintly. “Can I take you out for lunch?”

“I think I’m supposed to do an orientation thing,” Foggy says. “Also, I feel like I should charge you.”

“I’ll be your excuse,” Matt says, earnestly, “and that’s fine, you can.”

“I was joking,” Foggy says, groaning and covering his face with his hands before he adds, muffled, “Yeah, okay, take me to lunch.”

*

Foggy basically spills his guts over lunch, telling Matt how he ended up doing his night job—friend of a friend told him how much he was making, started with a Craigslist hookup but meeting in person had less of a paper trail.

“Do you make enough to get by?” Matt asks, face kind of pinched. Foggy’s story isn’t exactly a charming one.

“It’s not going to pay off my loans,” Foggy says, shrugging, “but it pays more than anything else I could do. And it takes less time than the three part time gigs that I’d need to make the same amount.”

“Wow,” Matt says.

“Yeah, society’s kind of fucked,” Foggy says, smiling. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I don’t want to stop seeing you,” Matt says.

“Well—you’ll see me at work.”

“You know what I mean,” Matt says, raising his eyebrows. “It’s crossing all kinds of lines—every line—but I have something to ask you.”

“. . .go ahead,” Foggy says, softly, not completely sure what’s happening. It’s like Matt’s about to propose or something.

“You keep coming over, more often if you want to, and I can pay you more,” Matt says, “so you’ll have time to devote to school and work and you won’t—you won’t have to go out.”

Foggy stares at him for a long time and Matt’s smile is kind of twitchy but it’s honest. He’s being genuine. Foggy was never under the impression that Matt doesn’t like him, but—this is something else.

“You,” he says, slowly, “want to be my sugar daddy.”

“I’d like there to be a different name for it,” Matt says, making a face.

“There isn’t,” Foggy says, laughing. “You—are you just asking me because you know I’m in school now? Like a really weird scholarship?”

“I wanted to ask you before,” Matt says. “I wanted to ask you that first night, Foggy. I promise.”

“. . .why?”

He could almost understand if they were sleeping together, because Foggy knows that he’s good in bed, but they just hang out.

“I like you. I want to be good to you,” Matt says. There’s nothing hesitant about him now. It’s firm, one hand covering Foggy’s on the table. “You deserve that.”

Foggy looks at their hands before he turns his to lace their fingers together. Matt’s smile makes something break open inside of him, something desperate and warm.

“Okay,” he says.

*

If it didn’t involve probably admitting to all of the illegal stuff, he’d tell Marci about it, because she’d probably die of jealousy. After being a successful lawyer who becomes rich on her own merits, having her lifestyle paid for by a hot, wealthy older man is basically the dream.

Not that Matt’s all that older. Four or five years, just long enough that he’s established himself at L&Z as their star. A shark with a secret heart of gold, apparently.

The night after Matt asks him, Foggy goes home with him and eats pizza sprawled out on his bed. It’s the first time they’ve been in the bedroom together, but Foggy’s the one who suggested it. It’s not the first time he’s wanted to get Matt in bed.

“Why aren’t you dating anyone?” Foggy asks. He’s tried not to interrogate Matt too much, letting him bring up things he’s willing to talk about, but they’re doing some weird commitment thing here.

“I just—can’t seem to find the right person,” Matt says, smiling. “You finished?”

Foggy hands him his plate and follows him into the kitchen, asking, “Is that why you picked me up, then? Because you’re lonely? Because, let me tell you, buddy—you don’t have to pay for it.”

“I—I noticed you before,” Matt says, leaving the dishes in the sink. “Not where you work, but in the neighborhood. You’re popular here.”

“I am?” Foggy asks, laughing.

“I followed you once,” Matt says, pulling a face. “I know that’s weird and legally sketchy, but—it’s like everybody knows you. And loves you. I wanted to know you, too. I just happened to be in the area and saw what you were doing and. . .”

Matt’s voice gets kind of weird when he says love and Foggy aches just a little.

“. . .and you solicited me,” Foggy says, laughing.

“Figured you might as well get something out of it,” Matt says, smiling cautiously, laughing along when Foggy laughs even harder. “I know this isn’t a conventional way to meet people.”

“That’s saying something,” Foggy says. “Head’s up, I’m about to touch you.”

He leans in to touch Matt’s face and turn it slighly before he presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re a good guy, Matt,” he says. “Sure you want to waste your money on me?”

“I’m sure,” Matt says, immediately. His cheeks are pink.

“. . .okay, you’re not paying me for this one,” Foggy says, and he doesn’t give Matt a chance to say anything before he kisses him on the mouth.

*

“I know that you would never ask me to do this,” Foggy says, hushed, with Matt pressed up against a wall. “I know that. But I want to.”

“I want to,” Matt says, head tipped back against the wall. Foggy goes all in and licks a line up his throat, grinning when Matt whimpers. “I want you, I do. I just don’t want to treat you like—like—”

“This is different,” Foggy says, lifting his head. “You’re not buying me for a night. You’re—”

“What?” Matt asks, softly, when Foggy doesn’t finish.

Foggy kisses him again.

“You’re taking care of me,” he says, close to Matt’s mouth, “and this is how I want you to do it.”

Matt hesitates before he flips them around and presses Foggy against the wall gently instead. His fingers barely graze Foggy’s face before they slide into his hair, and he kisses like he’s afraid Foggy will break. Foggy doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like that. Like he’s precious.

“C’mon,” Foggy says, wrapping his arms around Matt and hugging him close. “Let me show you how being a sugar daddy works. Or how it works in my fantasies, because I’ve never actually had one.”

“But you’ve had—fantasies?” Matt asks, stepping back when Foggy lets go of him.

“Having a hot guy fuck me and pay my bills?” Foggy asks. “Yes, I’ve had fantasies. Some of them—some of them might have starred you.”

Most of them. Some of them involved Idris Elba. But mostly Matt.

“I didn’t want to do anything while I was paying you,” Matt says.

“We’ll work this out,” Foggy says, deciding to be as honest as possible, “but I want you and I’d be here even if there was no money or—free pizza involved.”

“I don’t want that,” Matt says, cupping Foggy’s face in one hand. “I want to take care of you, just like you said.”

“I know,” Foggy says, kissing Matt softly and leading him to the bedroom, “but let me take care of you, too.”

*

“Sh-shit,” Matt breathes, head tipped back and facing the ceiling. “You’re good at this.”

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with his sweatpants pulled down to his ankles and Foggy’s on his knees and sucking him off slowly.

He pulls off just long enough to say, “Well, I’m a professional,” which drags a broken laugh out of Matt, who keeps running his fingers gently through Foggy’s hair. Foggy kind of wants to tell him that he’s allowed to pull it, but they’ll get there.

For now, he’s pretty sure that Matt wants to make love to him.

When Matt’s worked up enough to whine when Foggy pulls off and crawls into his lap, Foggy kisses him intently and says, “I want your dick inside me. Will you give it to me, Matt?”

“Jesus,” Matt says, sounding shaken.

“Professional dirty talker, too,” Foggy says, grinning at him. “Want me to tone it down?”

No,” Matt says, firmly.

“No?” Foggy asks, tugging up the hem of Matt’s shirt so Matt lifts his arms to let him take it off. “You want me to tell you how I want to wrap my legs around your waist and beg for you to fuck me hard?”

“Yeah,” Matt says, physically lifting Foggy and dropping him onto his back so Foggy laughs in surprise. “God, I want you.”

“I could tell you how good you feel inside me, thick and hot, so perfect for me,” Foggy says, lifting up so Matt can pull his jeans off, choking on air when Matt leans down to lick over his erection through his boxers.

“Uh huh,” Matt mumbles, pulling them down, too, so he can rub his cheek against Foggy’s dick.

Foggy drops his hand to run fingers through Matt’s hair.

“I could call you daddy,” he says, quietly. Matt goes still and then practically launches him up to kiss Foggy, roughly, pinning him down to the bed with his weight.

He murmurs Foggy’s name again and again, angles his hips to rub their erections together. Foggy feels wild. He’s never wanted someone like this before.

“Okay,” he says, laughing breathily. “Daddy it is.”