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Foggy has a few fantasies that he hasn’t exactly…told Matt about.

It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Matt. God, after everything they’ve been through—the lies, the secrets—learning to trust him has been a challenge, but by now he can confidently say he trusts Matt to, at the very least, not get himself almost killed more than once a week.

So, no, it isn’t a trust thing. It’s an embarrassment thing. A “if I tell you this I might have to jump off a cliff in shame” thing.

See, Matt’s got this guilt complex that would put a lustful nun to shame. He tries his hardest to keep them safe, keep them out of harm’s way, which means he tries to keep Daredevil out of their lives as much as possible.

Maybe that’s why Foggy’s got such a thing for Daredevil and fucked up fantasies.

And it’s not like he wants Daredevil to beat him to a pulp and toss him in front of the nearest cop station. No; he just wants him to…rough him up a little. Say a few things that careful, kind Matt would never say.

So, yeah, it would be a really dumb idea to let Matt in on the secret that Foggy fantasizes about Daredevil taking advantage of him in a dark alley every once in a while. A really dumb idea.

Which is why he should have seen it coming. When it comes to the three of them, the wonder trio, Matt, Karen, and Foggy, nothing is really a secret. Not for long, anyway.

It’s a Tuesday night that he decides to get drunk with Karen. He remembers that it’s Tuesday because it’s only a day after Matt comes home with a bullet wound in his chest. It is in retrospect a terrible decision.

“So I told him that I was going to break up with him.”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

Karen slams her cup against the table. “No!” she shouts, a little too loudly, because Josie shoots them a look which results in the two of them bursting into giggles.

“You did not!” she hisses. “What did he say?”

“He got that sad look on his face. You know the one where it looks like you just killed his puppy and drowned a mom? I was totally kidding but he took it, like, way too seriously. And then I got mad at him for taking me seriously…and it spiraled from there.”

“You said—” she pauses, takes a swig of her drink, “—you said that you tried to take the costume away?”

“Yeah, I did. It was a bullet wound, for Christ’s sake! I told him that he wasn’t going to be Daredevil anymore if I was going to have to come home to my boyfriend pierced by a bullet. I tried to take the suit from him, but his reflexes are like—” Foggy makes vague flapping motions in the air that are meant to simulate how quick and cat-like Matt is when he’s in Daredevil mode. “Like that.”

“Right.” Karen looks completely convinced, which bolsters Foggy’s confidence.

“And you know what?” He shakes his drink at her. “I don’t hate Daredevil. I don’t! In fact, it’s the opposite of hate.”

“You love him?”

“Okay, let’s not go that far, but I sure do feel something for good ol’ double D.” He winks, and Karen’s mouth stretches into an open-mouth grin.

“Oh, Foggy. Kinky.”

Foggy groans. “I know! It’s so embarrassing. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t feel that way, should I? Daredevil is serious business. But I mean, have you seen that guy move? It’s like an action movie, but in real life, and way hotter. Matt is just so, so hot. It’s criminal. I should have him thrown in jail.”

“A jail for hot people,” Karen agrees.

“Yeah, a jail for hot people. I’m a lawyer, so I could make it happen. I could be the warden and keep all the inmates in check.” He smiles, amused. “That’s the funny thing. Or maybe the sad thing. Maybe both!” He licks his lips and looks down at his glass. “Daredevil is actually really dangerous, and really powerful, and I just want him to shove me up against an alley wall and let him have his way with me.”

“Oh la la.” Karen giggles. “Couldn’t you and Matt, you know…” Her mouth twists, doing that thing it does when she’s about to say something that’s embarrassing for both of them. “Couldn’t you just do some roleplay?”

“Matt would kill me. Literally kill me.” Foggy chuckles, taking another swig of his drink. It stopped burning a while ago. “But oh my god I wish. Sometimes it feels like…look, I know Matt loves me, but sometimes I wish he’d be a little more passionate during sex, you know?”

He hears the sound of Matt’s cane hitting the edge of the table too late. Foggy freezes, his heartbeat going from zero to heart attack in about a second.

“Hey, guys,” Matt says, casually, and for a moment Foggy can pretend that Matt didn’t hear anything over the sound of the noisy bar. When he looks over, though, there’s an unhappy twist to Matt’s mouth and he’s clenching his cane way too tight.

“Watcha talking about?”


There’s that knife edge he was waiting for. The angry, hurt edge to his voice that he gets whenever he finds Karen and Foggy conniving behind his back. 

 “Oh, nothing much.” Foggy won’t look Matt in the eye—not that he’d be able to tell. Or maybe he would. Matt has an amazing poker face.

“I think maybe I should go,” Karen drawls, sensing the tension. She has the decency to shoot Foggy a sympathetic look before she flees the premises, paying for both of their drinks as a means of compensation.

“You didn’t have to do that!” Foggy yells at her. “Thanks, though!”

“Care to share?” Matt asks, completely ignoring what just happened. Fuck, he’s pissed. The edge is sharper now, but wobblier, like he’s about three seconds from shouting obscenities.

“I am way too drunk for this,” Foggy says, still not looking at Matt. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Matt nods shortly and then they leave.

Foggy wakes up to the smell of food.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m so fucked.

Matt doesn’t cook breakfast. Foggy cooks breakfast. That’s just how it’s always been since this began. The only times Matt ever cooked breakfast were when Foggy was pissed at him, or he was pissed at Foggy. Normally that wouldn’t make any sense, but Matt has that guilt thing going on. Even when he’s mad he’s trying to set an example, to show how much he cares. And it works, it always fucking works.

“Matt, you didn’t have to,” Foggy says as he enters the kitchen.

Matt sets down the plate in front of him. There’s bacon, eggs, and toast. Shit.

“Matt—” He struggles to find somewhere to start. “It’s not what you think.”

“That’s funny.” Matt adjusts his grip on the seat in front of him, fingernails digging into the wood. “I wasn’t thinking anything. I just thought that I’d make my boyfriend breakfast like a kind, loving boyfriend should.”

“This isn’t about you not being kind. Or loving. Seriously, Matt, it’s—it’s just a fantasy.”

“So the part where you said I wasn’t passionate enough didn’t mean anything.”

He sounds hurt. Honest to god, Foggy-you-are-the-literal-devil hurt.

“Matt…” Foggy sighs. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It’s not that you’re not passionate. I meant that sometimes you just treat me a little too carefully. I can handle you being a little less gentle.”

“I don’t want to be less gentle,” Matt says. “And I’m sorry if that isn’t enough for you.”

“Can you get your head out of your ass?” Foggy exclaims. He’s not the villain here! This is why he didn’t want to tell Matt.

“This is why I couldn’t tell you,” he says out loud. “I knew you’d make it a part of your—your guilt thing.”

At that, Matt pauses, seeming to come to himself. He loosens his grip on the chair and sits in it heavily.

“I’m sorry. But I wish you would have discussed with me and not Karen.”

“You heard what I said. How could I come to you with that? ‘Hey Matt every time you get into that suit I’m like, holy shit, fuck me in a dark alley somewhere’.”

Matt’s mouth twitches. “Why an alley?”

Foggy shrugs. “I dunno. Seems like the kinda place that bad things happen, y’know?”

“Bad things do happen in alleys,” Matt says, slowly, like he’s hesitant to agree. “I’m usually there to stop them.” He pauses, licks his lips. He’s about to say something Foggy isn’t gonna like. “Daredevil is not a toy to be played with. It’s an identity, and it’s a dangerous one.”

Foggy groans.

“I know, dude, you don’t have to tell me.” He scrubs his fingers through his hair, regretting his entire life up to this point. “It was just a stupid fantasy. It’s not like I want you to do horrible things to me.” He pauses for a beat. “Well, maybe little bit horrible. A smidgen.”

Matt cocks his head. “So, what, you want Daredevil to commit rape?”

“It wouldn’t be rape if I wanted it, first of all.” Foggy points a finger at him. Then he reaches for his fork and starts digging into his meal, because Matt is a surprisingly good cook for a blind dude and good food’s not going to waste. “And second, you wouldn’t be doing anything that’s actually illegal. That’s the point of roleplay. Besides, none of that matters because we aren’t doing anything.”

Matt’s brow furrows. He opens his mouth, but Foggy cuts him off before he can speak.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Foggy says seriously. He takes hold of Matt’s hand, stroking his thumb over his knuckles. “I would never make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. Things are good. Amazing.”

“But you said—”

“Look, you are the best boyfriend I could have asked for. When you’re not being an idiot about Daredevil’s danger levels, you’re kind and caring and sweet. I love you, Matt. I don’t need any more than this, right here.”

His heart is completely steady when he says those things. They’re not a lie, either. He doesn’t need anything else in his life, which is pretty good right about now.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.

They don’t address the issue for weeks. Foggy doesn’t even think of it as an issue, not until one day when Matt comes in to work one morning a little later than usual. He sent Foggy on ahead to work with the claim that there was business he needed to get to first.

“Hey, buddy!” Foggy says, once he sees him enter the office space. “Karen isn’t in yet. I thought you said you had something to take care of. All finished?”

“I…yeah.” Matt walks into his office, then comes back out. He starts pacing, tapping his cane against the floorboards rhythmically.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Matt shakes his head. Walks back into his room and starts pacing in there. Foggy figures he’ll come clean about what he’s worried about when the time is right. He usually does.

Only it’s hours before Matt comes out of his office, and by then Karen has arrived with a plethora of clients that need their attention. They become very busy for the next few hours, up until their lunch break, where the crowd clears out, leaving behind a few stragglers that they turn away until after lunch.

“Which pie should I dig into?” Foggy asks no one in particular. He’s got his eyes on the rhubarb. “Want some, Matt?”

No answer.

“Matt?” He looks towards his office, which is closed, the shades to the doorway drawn.

“Do you think he went out?” he asks Karen.

She shrugs. “I dunno. I’ll be right back, though. Gotta get some more paper from storage.”

She goes, leaving Foggy with his curiosity, and a little bit of concern.

He walks over and knocks on the door, then tries the handle. It’s open.

“Matt? What are you—”

Foggy has about a second to prepare himself before Matt drags him into the room and slams the door shut behind him. He feels hands wrap around his wrists, pinning him back against the wall, thumbs sliding along his pulse. Matt face is close, the stubble on his cheek scraping Foggy’s jaw as he shoves himself into his personal space and inserts his knee in between Foggy’s thighs.

Heat blossoms down into his groin. He represses a shudder when he feels Matt’s teeth scrape the exposed point on his throat.

Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck.

The room isn’t dark, well lit by the light filtering open shades, but even so Foggy can’t see anything beyond Matt’s eyes, unfocused, yet piercing.

“Is this what you want?” he growls, honest to god growls, and Foggy is pretty sure that it’s impossible to be instantly hard, yet here he is.

“I’m. Um.” Foggy can feel his own heart hammering in his chest, his breath coming out a little too short, a classic tale of excitement and arousal. He expects Matt to go somewhere with it, but when he abruptly pulls away, looking angry, Foggy is completely mystified.

“Sorry,” Matt says. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just wanted to see…I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I know what I was thinking,” Foggy offers uncertainly. “That that was pretty hot, dude. You’re just gonna leave me hanging?” He laughs, but Matt doesn’t join him, still holding onto that sorry look on his face. “Okay, what’s up, Matt? What was that about?”

“I thought…” He takes a deep, measured breath, stepping away from Foggy. “I thought that I might be wrong. I was hoping I’d be wrong.”

“About what?”

“What you said the other night, it’s been—bothering me. More than I thought it would.” Foggy goes to open his mouth but Matt starts speaking, quicker now, fingers fidgeting over his cane. “I was angry at you not because of what you said, but because—because when I think about doing those things to you, I can’t get them out of my head.”

“Really?” Foggy does his best to sound cautious and not excited. Matt seems genuinely upset about it.

“When I’m in the suit and I think of you, things get—my head gets messed up,” he says, with a miserable smile. “Have I ever told you, Fog? What’s it like to be him. I’m another person when I’m Daredevil. I take that out there and I leave it there. I didn’t want to bring that home and affect our relationship. I can’t.

“You’re still you,” Foggy insists, because for all his charm and social skills, right now, he doesn’t know what to say that will soothe Matt’s feelings.

“It’s not the same,” Matt says, a waver in his voice. “I can’t bring you into that world. It’s too dangerous. And I want to!” His voice cracks. “How messed up is that?”

“Jesus, Matt, how long have you been holding onto this?”

“Long enough.” Matt licks his lips, turns towards the door, as if he’s contemplating making a run for it. “I don’t—I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me,” Foggy says, willing his heart to stay steady because he knows it’s true. Matt would never hurt him, not on purpose. “And Matt, I told you we didn’t have to do anything. But,” he pauses, grips this chance by the throat before it can get away, “it sounds like that’s something you’re thinking about. I want it too! You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Matt cocks his head in a way that indicates he’s listening to something outside the room. Karen’s probably back. Foggy lowers his voice, continuing before Matt has lost all nerve and bans sex forever.

“Whatever reservations you have, I respect ‘em. Your emotions are valid, buddy.” That draws a minor chuckle out of Matt. “So whenever you feel like you’re ready, we can figure something out.”

Matt is silent for a long time, staring halfway between Foggy and the floor. It kinda looks like he’s staring at Foggy’s crotch, which he would have pointed out for a good laugh if the situation wasn’t so dire.

“If we do this,” he says, with a heavy note of hesitance, “we do it on my terms. There will be rules.”

Foggy’s heart jumps straight in his chest. “Of course. Anything.”

Matt swallows, looks at Foggy with something he doesn’t recognize.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says, and then Karen knocks on their door.

Matt’s concerns about being safe are pretty standard, as far as Foggy’s concerned.

“The moment you stay stop, we stop.”

“But what if that’s part of the, uh, y’know, atmosphere?”

Matt quiets at that, and Foggy suddenly remembers parts of what little he knows about BDSM.

“Why don’t we have a safeword?”

“A safeword.” Matt cocks his head. “All right. What would you choose?”

“I dunno, something that I’d never say accidentally. Banana?” No, that sounds a little too ridiculous. “Maybe we could just go with code words. Like ‘red’ for stop.”

“And ‘green’ for go?” Matt drawls, his mouth twitching upward. 

“Exactly!” Foggy’s heart starts to pick up. He’s feeling a little too excited than is probably warranted. “That way we don’t have to stop and ask how we’re feeling.”

“Hm.” Matt crosses his arms, gazing off into the distance like he’s completely unaffected, but Foggy can see the telltale signs on tension running from his tense shoulders to his locked knees. He’s anxious about what they’re doing, but Foggy trusts that he’d let him know if it was too much. “So, when are we doing this?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just pick a time a stick with it, I guess. How about…next Friday? As long as nothing comes up, we can clear our schedules, have time to prepare.”

“That easy, huh? It’s almost like a date,” Matt says, his humor offset by his white-knuckled grip on the desk.

Despite his better judgement, Foggy steps forward, covering Matt’s hands with his own. “Matt, we don’t have to do this.”

“No, no.” Matt shakes his head. “I want to. I’m just…nervous, is all. So, Friday?”

“Yeah. I figure I’ll just wander down a bunch of alleys until you find me.” The look Matt gives him is one of sheer, incredulous disbelief. “I’m kidding! It’ll be wherever you decide. You know this city’s dark corners better than anyone.”

“Right. Sure.” Matt combs his fingers through his hair. “I’ll let you know, Foggy. Thanks, by the way,” he adds, pulling Foggy in close for a kiss on the lips. “Really. For letting me do this my way.”

“Our way. We’re doing this together, man.” Foggy smiles. “I’m just happy that you’re even into it. I thought I’d be harboring this until I was old and gray and you were too weak to beat me up over it.”

Matt chuckles, burying his fingers in Foggy’s hair and tugging him close again. God, he could get used to this version of Matt. He’s less tense, more at ease with himself now that the secret’s out that he wants to bone Foggy hardcore.

“Let’s get back to work, before Karen asks us what we’re up to.”

“I’m sure she’s got some ideas.”

Matt smiles and Foggy’s heart comes to a stop. “Let’s not let her come up with any more. C’mon.” 

The alley is exactly how Foggy imagined it would look. Dark, dank, with the smell of piss and trash permeating the air. He wanders further in, his trademark satchel thrown over his shoulder. It’s empty, because this isn’t really real, but he can’t help the way his fingers curl protectively around the strap when he hears a sound behind him.

Spinning around, Foggy brandishes his satchel like a shield, but there’s nothing there. His heart is pounding, pulse beating hard under his palm when he lays his hand on his chest and wills himself to calm down.

He’s not sure why he feels so nervous. Maybe because they’ve never done anything like this before. The temptation to call out to Matt just to make sure it’s him is so extreme that he has to bite his lip.

It’s fine, he tells himself. You’re completely safe with Matt around.

Another sound. Matt can probably hear the way Foggy’s breath hitches from wherever he’s skulking around.

The end of the alleyway is a ways away yet. Foggy keeps walking and reminds himself to whistle, because whistling is what he’d do if he were really in this situation.

When he reaches one of the dumpsters, he hears another sound, coming from his left. This time, when he turns around, Daredevil is in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Foggy says, an honest reaction that doubles as part of their loosely defined script.

“Hello, Mr. Nelson.”

Matt’s—Daredevil, he reminds himself—voice is at a lower pitch than Foggy’s used to, his tone rough. Shivers immediately erupt down his spine. 

“Holy shit, it’s—” An inexplicable peal of laughter erupts out of Foggy. Again, he’s never done anything like this before, roleplaying out in the dark with his boyfriend in his crime-fighting suit. “It’s you.”

Daredevil cocks his head. His mouth stretches into a smile. It’s not the same smile that Foggy recognizes; this one is darker. More dangerous.

“I see you’ve heard of me.”

“Well, duh, you’re Daredevil. Local vigilante of New York. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t know you. If not, they’re living under a rock.”

Maybe they should have stuck to a stricter script. He can’t seem to stop talking.

“I’m flattered you think so.” There’s that smile again. Daredevil walks forward; light, measured steps that bring him quickly to Foggy. He stops in front of him, reaches out, fingertips brushing over the fingers clenched tightly around the still-raised satchel.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” Daredevil continues, whispering quietly into Foggy’s ear. His fingers inch past his wrist, tickling the sparse hair underneath the arm of his suit. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t know, seems pretty safe with you around. I mean, you’re Daredevil, right?”

Daredevil’s smile widens. He steps even closer, forcing Foggy to take a step back. Within moments his back hits the wall and he’s casually bracketed by Daredevil’s arms.

He jerks his chin up as if in challenge.

“Who says I’m safe?”

“You’re—you’re a good guy.” Foggy’s not sure what he’s supposed to be saying right now; his brain feels like mush, his heart is in his throat, and he’s harder than he can ever remember and Ma—Daredevil hasn’t even really touched him yet. “You’re the guy that beats up bad guys. You’re a hero. Everyone loves you. They-they practically worship you.”

Daredevil chuckles at that, pulling back onto so he can reach between them and tug lightly at the bag still hanging above Froggy’s waist. He lets it go without a fight, his heartrate ratcheting up when Daredevil tosses it carelessly behind him.

“And what about you, Mr. Nelson? How do you feel about me?”

“I don’t…feel anything?” It almost hurts to lie. “I mean, I know who you are—”

Suddenly Daredevil takes hold of his collar and presses him back against the brick wall. It doesn’t actually hurt, but Foggy’s squeezes his eyes shut anyway.

This isn’t part of the script.

“I can tell you’re lying,” he says, breathing coming out in a rush. “I can feel your heartbeat, fluttering like a hummingbird.” He smiles, fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. “I’m no hero, Mr. Nelson.”

“Then what are you?”

Daredevil visibly pauses, waiting a few seconds before saying, softly, “Green.”

Foggy swallows. Nods. “Green.”

Then Daredevil’s kissing him.

His fingers bury in his hair and pull, yanking him towards Daredevil with a force that makes his head spin. He kisses him with a single-minded focus, moving his mouth messily over Foggy's until his body is melting into butter, and he’s hit with a rush of adrenaline so heavy that he’s having trouble remembering he’s supposed to be resisting.

He jumps when Daredevil’s free hand snakes down between them, brushing his stomach and reaching for his belt. He fiddles with that for a few seconds, but when it doesn’t immediately give he abandons it and reaches instead for Foggy’s crotch.

His obvious erection gives him pause. He breaks away from Foggy’s mouth, and his lips are as red as his suit. “Well, what do we have here?”

His fingers feel the length of Foggy’s dick. Foggy represses a whimper.

“What, that? That’s nothing. You should probably just ignore it. I almost always do.”

“That would be a shame. A waste.” Daredevil smirks, cupping him through his pants. “I asked you a question, Mr. Nelson.” His voice is terrifyingly steady. “I suggest you answer it.”

“It’s just a reaction, okay? And I think you’ve got the wrong idea, buddy. I may be single, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m on the market.”

“I know what you are, Mr. Nelson, you don’t need to tell me.” He leans in, steals another kiss from Foggy, teeth scraping his bottom lip before he pulls away. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles against Foggy’s cheek. 

“Wha-watching me?” His heart thuds in his chest. “How long have you been doing that?”

“Long enough.” Daredevil chuckles and the sound goes straight from Foggy’s head to his toes. “I got tired of waiting for you to notice, so I decided tonight would be the perfect night.”

Foggy can’t keep the tremor out of his voice when he asks, “For what?”

If Daredevil hears it, he gives no indication, ignoring his reaction and focusing on getting his hands on Foggy’s bare skin. He yanks his shirt out of his pants and hikes it up so he can shove his hands underneath. The gloves are cool, tickling Foggy’s skin. His fingers slide up his torso and around his waist, exploring in a way that feels almost like he doesn't already know every single inch of Foggy's body. 

When his thumbs brush his nipples, Foggy jerks into motion and tries pushing at Daredevil’s hands, but he’s made of pure muscle and Foggy ate no less than three donuts that morning. They were tempting, and he is weak, just like now, as Daredevil pulls Foggy’s hands high above his head and uses the new position to press their bodies flush.

“I wouldn’t fight back if I were you, Mr. Nelson,” Daredevil says into his ear. He nips at his earlobe, and Foggy is made suddenly aware of the thick erection pressing into his hip. “Relax. Let me take care of everything.” A brief pause. “Green.”

“Green,” Foggy says. “I really don’t think that’s necessary, Dare—Mr. Daredevil. Sir.” Daredevil’s fingers tighten around his wrists, his mouth twitching like he’s not sure how to react to being addressed as such. Foggy files it away for later. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“I wasn’t offering.”

Daredevil ripping his shirt apart at the seams is added at the very top of the list of ‘things that simultaneously arouse and scare the shit out of Foggy Nelson’.

“Holy shit,” Foggy breathes. “I, um, I mean. Stop! Please. Why are you doing this? Why—why me?”

Daredevil kisses him quiet, swallowing Foggy’s noises of distress.

“I told you,” he says, fingers prying slowly, carefully at his belt. “I’ve been watching you. I’ve wanted you for a long time, Mr. Nelson, and I finally decided to have you.”

His belt clatters to the ground. There's something about knowing Daredevil—the Daredevil—is saying he's been watching him: Foggy Nelson, a nobody. Even though it's fake, it feels exhilarating to be considered special, even if it's for something as nefarious as this.

Daredevil’s hand reaches down his pants, brushing Foggy's erection curiously. His gloves are warm and not very comfortable against Foggy’s sensitive skin. Daredevil seems to sense this and brings his hand back up, proceeding to rip the glove off with his teeth before plunging his hand back down, wrapping his bare palm around Foggy's dick.

“That’s nice,” he says casually, like they’re discussing the weather and not Foggy’s erection. “It’ll more than do.”

“Wow, thanks,” Foggy drawls. “I’m feeling real confident now.”

Daredevil’s lips twitch; he nearly smiles, catches himself just in time, pushing Foggy roughly against the wall to compensate.

“Turn around,” he growls. “Don’t speak. And I’m sure you know better than to scream.”

Daredevil’s fingers around still holding onto his collar, pulling it tight against Foggy's throat, tight enough that every time he swallows the fabric digs into his adams apple. He nods, repressing a whimper as Daredevil withdraws his hand.

Soon, his pants are around his knees and Daredevil’s got his hand on Foggy’s ass. He feels at the skin, rubbing his palm along the curve of his cheek. Foggy jumps when he feels something hot and hard press against it.

If he had any doubts as to whether or not Matt was into this, they’ve been squashed to smithereens. Matt—Daredevil doesn’t wait long before he’s teasing at Foggy’s hole, the slick head of his dick pressing in unerringly.

Foggy groans when he starts to push inside, indescribably glad they decided to plan this part out.

“So what about prep?”

“Right.” Matt looks down at his coffee mug and shrugs. “Can’t just go shoving it in.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not bleed and tear during this whole thing.” Foggy draws his legs up onto the sofa, crossing his ankles. “What if I wear a buttplug?”

Matt blinks at him. “What?”

“I’m serious. Look, I’ve never done it but I know a guy who has and he said it really helped him, y’know, be ready when the time came. I figure if I keep it in there until then, I’ll both be clean and ready for the taking. You just need to keep some lube on you, pour it on when the time comes, and boom. Two birds with one dick-shaped stone.”

Matt shakes his head, but he’s smiling that goofy smile Foggy loves so much.

“Do you even own a butt plug, Foggy?”

“No, but I do have Amazon Prime, and that has free two-day shipping.”

Daredevil’s pauses once he’s halfway there. It burns a little but it’s not as bad as it could be, and Foggy has always loved the feeling of Matt’s dick inside him. He resists the urge to look behind him.

“Wait,” he says, pulling out quick enough that it stings. “Turn around, Fog-Mr. Nelson. I want to see your face.”

Foggy follows his orders without complaint, hiding his confusion behind a mask of mostly-manufactured fear. “What are you going to—shit!”

Daredevil shoves him against the wall, using it as leverage to hold Foggy up as he lifts him, encouraging him to wrap his legs around his waist. Foggy’s arm snap to his shoulders, clinging to Daredevil as he angles his shoulders against the wall.

“Oh my god,” Foggy breathes, stupidly turned on. He’s not exactly lightweight, and he’s always known that Daredevil is strong, but it’s another thing to have the guy holding you up against a wall with brute strength alone.

His first thrust is tentative and shallow; he nearly slips out, but the second—that one is long and deep, bringing him straight past Foggy’s prostate. His fingernails scrape along Daredevil’s shoulder blades, a part of him regretting the decision to allow him to go full suit. He loves feeling Matt flex.

The position, despite its precariousness, feels really, really good. Matt’s not able to go far, but he’s pulling Foggy down as much as he is thrusting up, rubbing up inside him in a circular motion that has Foggy making noises he knows he should but can’t possibly contain.

“You’re not…hah…you’re enjoying this a lot, aren’t you, Mr. Nelson,” Daredevil pants, every word sounding like it’s costing him. His hands are like brands on Foggy’s thighs, tightening every time he moves. His grunts are punctuated by sharp, fierce snaps of his hips, and his teeth are clenched tight, nostrils flaring. He looks so fucking hot like that.

“I—oh, fuck, that’s good,” Foggy breathes, grinding his hips into Matt as best he can, “fuck, fuck, Matt you feel—”

“Perfect,” Matt finishes for him, pushing Foggy harder against the wall. He gives him several brutal thrusts, driving into him at an angle that’s so sweet Foggy can only sob, digging his heels into Matt’s lower back.

Matt’s kisses Foggy again, pants into his mouth, “The way you look right now—”

They kiss intermittently as they fuck, leaning in for more not long after they break apart. Matt, who’s usually not afraid to let his mouth run loose, is mostly silent, the only sounds permeating the silence his ragged breath and low moans. His eyes are hidden by the mask, which makes everything seem a little more intense, a little more real even though Foggy’s the one pawing at him through the suit.

Foggy teeters on the razor edge for what feels like ages. Pleasure slices through him in droves as Matt drives his cock into him, and it’s amazing, feels so, so good, but he doesn’t think he can come like this, untouched and needy. He never has before.

Then Matt leans towards Foggy’s ears and whispers, “I love you, Fog,” his voice hoarse and throaty, full of emotions that Foggy wasn’t expecting. He feels himself go tight at the words, clenching down around Matt’s cock. His breath stutters out weakly, hips twitching in an erratic pattern. As if sensing how close he is, Matt frees one hand and starts pumping Foggy’s cock.

It only takes a few strokes for him to come. When Foggy does, he buries his face against Matt’s shoulder, yanking Matt as close as their position will allow, tightening around him to the point that Matt grunts, still rocking into him, fucking him through his orgasm.

Once he’s finished, Matt lets him drop to the ground carefully, only because Foggy’s a veritable puddle once he’s come, and he completely understands Matt not wanting to risk hurting him in any way.

For a few seconds they just stare at each other—or rather, Foggy stares and Matt sniffs at the air like a total weirdo, using all his senses to check on Foggy.

“Well done, Mr. Nelson,” he says, like an afterthought. His dick is still hanging out, hard and glistening. Foggy really wants to suck on it, but it was just in his ass, and that’s a little too kinky for one night. Instead, he yanks Matt closer, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock.

“You don’t have to—” Matt starts, but Foggy ignores him, stroking him from base to tip, using his free hand to fondle his balls. Foggy knows they’re ridiculously sensitive, to the point that Matt usually can’t even handle having them touched, but tonight he just moans low in his throat, thrusting into Foggy’s fist until his balls draw tight and he’s coming all over Foggy’s fingers and hand.

“Hot,” Foggy says, giving his thumb a lick. Matt’s nose wrinkles, and then he lifts Foggy up, helping him stand.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, checking him over for any injuries.

“Don’t play dumb, Daredevil.” Foggy nudges him away, not bothering to hide the goofy smile on his face. “You know I enjoyed that. You were perfect. I love you so much, Matt, you have no idea.”

“I went a little off script,” Matt says, weakly, like he’s trying to convince Foggy it wasn’t as good as it was, which is total bullshit. “I—”

“You were perfect,” Foggy interrupts. He starts pulling on his pants and attempts to smooth down his clothing so he doesn’t look like he’s been fucked within an inch of his life. “Perfect. Seriously. We should do that again sometime. If you want,” he adds, because Matt looks like he might vomit.

“I…I do.” Matt visibly swallows. “I shouldn’t want to, but I do.”

“Ohh, watch out, Matt, you’re getting a little too kinky there,” Foggy teases. “Admitting you like roughing me up?”

At that, Matt cracks a smile. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Matt pulls him into a kiss, moving his mouth over Foggy’s roughly, using much more force than he’s used to, which is frankly the most amazing thing ever. When he pulls away, Foggy has almost forgotten where they are; it’s only when Matt’s head snaps up that he’s reminded they’re somewhere sort of public.

“Are they close?”

“Not yet,” Matt answers distractedly. “We—I should go. You walk home, and I’ll watch over you.”

“More stalking. I like it.” Matt services him with a withering glare, and Foggy merely smirks. Then, before he can blink, Matt is vaulting up the side of a building and Foggy realizes his fingers are still covered in come.

“Hey!” he calls. “Did you bring any kleenex?”