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Love and War and Whatever

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Somehow over the last couple of months the three of them have fallen into a routine of meeting at Karen's place every Wednesday for a movie night, and as much as Foggy had worried (noisily and at length) that the whole relationship was going to be awkward and weird, it never was. It was easy and comfortable from the beginning; to Karen, it's perfectly natural to be here on her couch, leaning against the solid warmth of Foggy's chest with her feet in Matt's lap while he works some kind of mysterious massage voodoo on them.

Even Matt seems comfortable, and that's kind of amazing. He listens to the TV with a half-smile on his face, and Foggy narrates for him whenever he starts getting lost. Matt doesn't even need to ask; Foggy has done it for so long that he claims he doesn't even notice himself doing it half the time. He'd tried to apologize to Karen once for annoying her, but she promptly decided to just find it charming, because that's the way things are with these two. Both of them are just so fucking charming.

And it's definitely working out, because the three of them are in a warm tangle of limbs and cushions while the end credits start scrolling, and Karen and Foggy are doing that thing they do where they scan the credits and call out silly-sounding names while Matt laughs and insists they're making some of them up.

Foggy is laughing so hard tears are streaming from his eyes, and Karen shakes with every convulsion of his chest. "I am one hundred percent serious: Dick Pickle. He's in the Australian unit."

"It's true," Karen says, her feet resting in Matt's lap as he idly rubs them. "I swear. It says he's a foley artist, whatever that is."

Matt raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, I believe you. I'm sure Mr. Pickle is very good at his job."

Karen whines and jabs Matt with her toe; he gives such good foot rubs. He grins and returns to his work. "Sorry."

"There should be a rule," Foggy says, swallowing the last of his beer, "that if you're about to name your kid 'Richard', someone at the hospital has to stop you and ask, 'Are you sure?'"

"I once knew a guy named Richard Head," Karen says, giggling. "He said he hated it as a kid, but when he got to college, he started insisting that everyone call him 'Dick.' Said he loved the looks on his professors' faces when they had to call his name in class."

Foggy laughs again, sending the vibrations right through her chest. His arms encircle her like a coccoon, and she drinks up the feeling of being wrapped up in her two favorite people. Matt's hands are firm on the soles of her feet, knuckles digging into the arch, and she moans, low and quiet. Foggy doesn't seem to notice, but Matt gives her a secret smile and slides one hand up her ankle to her calf, squeezing lightly before sliding down to continue rubbing her, and Karen wonders how many orphans and puppies she must have rescued in a previous life to deserve all this.

They finish watching the credits and pick out a couple more names, but nothing tops Dick Pickle for hilarity. When the DVD flips back to the menu screen, they sit quietly for a few minutes, Karen making occasional sounds of approval at Matt's rubbing, and Foggy idly running his fingers through her hair. She makes a half-hearted grab for the remote control at the second loop of the menu screen music, and Foggy chuckles and reaches for it himself. When the TV is off, she sighs contentedly and settles back against Foggy. His fingers wind their way into her hair again, and she moans again as he massages her scalp.

"You sound so amazing," Foggy murmurs into her hair, sending a shiver through her. "I love hearing you enjoying yourself."

She feels her cheeks burning, and she turns her face into the crook of his arm. "Stop it. I sound ridiculous."

"Matt? Help me out here."

"He's right," Matt says, his voice low and soft like he's lost in admiration. "You sound amazing."

"So fucking sexy," Foggy says, and closes his hand in her hair, not quite pulling. The tugging is a firm pressure, almost like a massage but more intense. She can't hold it in against the sensation, and she lets out a gasping "oh," her breath catching in her chest. "Yeah," he says, his breath hot against her scalp, "like that. I could listen to that all day."

A sharp retort bubbles up and dies on her lips, because Matt just bent his head down and took her big toe into his mouth, his tongue flicking firmly against the pad. "Oh," she says, "oh! Not fair." She can feel his lips twist into a grin as he swipes his tongue along the pad of her toe again, and then he nips gently at it, making her gasp and wriggle against Foggy's chest.

"All's fair in love and hot, dirty threesomes," Foggy says, his hand wandering down to brush over her nipple, and even with her shirt and bra in between, she shudders at the touch, arching up into it.

Matt begins kissing his way up her leg, his lips leaving cool wet patches in their wake that make her shiver. "I'm pretty sure," he says, between kisses, "you've misquoted that."

"No way," Foggy says, finger tracing circles on Karen's nipple as she writhes under his touch. "Cervantes himself said it. 'Love and hot, dirty threesomes are the same....in hot, dirty threesomes it's okay to use, like, wiles--feminine or otherwise--to overcome something something desired and--'"

"Shut up," Matt says, climbing right over Karen and kissing him forcefully. Foggy mumbles something in protest, but it quickly fades away as Matt presses him back into the couch, and Karen can't tear her eyes away because they're gorgeous together, Matt's intensity and Foggy's boundless enthusiasm pouring into the press of lips and wet slide of tongues against each other. Karen squeezes her thighs together and groans as she watches them, and she's rewarded by Matt's knee pressing its way in between hers, and his thigh grinding down against her. Seriously, she must have been some kind of saint in a past life, because this is more than any mortal person could possibly deserve, and probably more than one can handle.

When they part, Matt is breathing just a little bit faster--she wouldn't have even noticed six months ago, but she'd been learning a lot about Matt's reactions to various stimuli lately--and Foggy is absolutely breathless. "Okay," he says, panting, "it's been a while since I've read Don Quixote. I might be fuzzy on the details."

Matt smiles, and presses his thigh against Karen again, making her buck and grind against him. She wraps her arm around Foggy's neck and pulls herself up to kiss him--why let Matt have all the fun? Foggy is an amazing kisser; he takes his time, moving his tongue in slow sweeps across her lips before finally pushing past them and into her mouth. She could kiss him for hours, and sometimes does, but right now she wants more.

Matt seems to sense this and he shifts, gently pushing her legs farther apart until he can settle between them. She feels the hard bulge of his cock pressing against her, twitching against her clit, and suddenly all she can think about is getting the layers of fabric out from between them and feeling his skin. She groans desperately against Foggy's lips, too far gone to care what she sounds like, and tangles her fingers in his hair as she moves her hips against Matt.

Foggy pulls back from the kiss, and Karen says, gasping, "can we move our classical literature study group to the bedroom?"

"Right," says Foggy. "We need more space. For our books."

Matt hums in agreement. "Gotta spread them out." With one last press against Karen, he moves back and holds his hand out to her. She giggles a little at the fact she's letting a blind guy lead the way to her bedroom, but really, he's been spending so much time over there that it wouldn't be strange even if he didn't have super-senses. He cocks his head at her curiously, and she murmurs, "nothing," and gives him a playful smack on the ass. He gets the hint, and picks up the pace.

As soon as they're in the bedroom, Matt pulls her close and crushes his lips against hers. He's the polar opposite of Foggy; he kisses like a dying man, like he's got to pour everything into this one moment. His tongue thrusts into her mouth, and her hands drop to his belt with similar abandon. She yanks the belt open and makes quick work of his button and fly while Foggy comes in behind her and starts lifting her shirt. It's not enough, not fast enough, and Karen breaks the kiss to throw her arms over her head and let Foggy strip her shirt off in one quick motion. His fingers work the button of her shorts open, and they fall to the floor a few seconds before Matt's shirt joins them.

"Look at you guys," Foggy whispers reverently. "I must have been some paragon of virtue in a past life to deserve this."

Karen bursts into uncontrollable giggling, resting her forehead against Matt's. "I know, right?" she chokes out. "I think I probably ran into a burning building to rescue a bunch of little old ladies or something."

"Right, that," Foggy says, unfastening her bra and turning her to face him. "And a basket of kittens. And orphans."

"Really, a basket of orphans?" Matt says as he pushes the bra straps off Karen's shoulders She shudders as he presses tiny, biting kisses along the ridge of her neck while Foggy cups her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her nipples.

If Foggy had a smartass reply, it's lost as Karen kisses him again; she and Matt had both learned pretty quickly that it was the most effective--and most fun--way to shut him up. He makes a soft pleased sound against her lips, then groans when Matt's hands work their way between them to unbutton his shirt. As dexterous as he is, it's still awkward, and Karen bats his hands away and gets to work on the buttons herself.

Matt hums against her back, nipping at the junction of her neck and shoulder, and his hands slide down her sides to rest on her hips. She shivers as he lines his cock up to rest in the cleft of her ass, and he lets out the faintest hint of a sigh as he pulls her back against him. She moans into Foggy's mouth and presses back, shifting her hips against the hard ridge of him, hearing the hiss of his breath through his teeth as she moves. That sound--the way he lets his control slip, just a little--makes her heart jump, and she wants, needs something inside her.

Matt can tell, he can always tell, and one hand slides forward from her hip to rest for a moment in the soft mound of hair over her pussy. She pushes back against him again, and she can feel his lips twisting into a smile against her shoulder as his finger dips down, down, sliding between slick folds of skin and pressing into her. It's not enough, it's maddening, but she forgives him when she hears his ragged moan. "Fuck, Karen," he whispers, "you're so wet."

Foggy's shirt is finally off, and his hands are back on Karen's breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers while she fumbles at his pants. He pinches one lightly, and the touch makes her skin burn. His lips are an inch from hers; she leans forward to kiss him again, but he pulls back, just barely out of her reach. "How wet is she?" he says, licking his lips. "Tell me, Matty."

"I'll do you one better," Matt says, and then the finger is gone, and Karen whines and twists against him. She opens her eyes, and sees Matt bring his hand up to Foggy's face, and she can't stop the hoarse sound that escapes from her throat when Matt's finger, slick with her juices, disappears into Foggy's mouth. Foggy sucks at it eagerly, and Matt's forehead drops to Karen's shoulder. "Fuck," he whispers, "Foggy."

Foggy lets Matt's finger slide from his mouth, teeth scraping it as he grins, and Karen can feel her pulse racing in her throat, her chest, between her legs. "You're right," Foggy says, flicking Karen's nipples, "she's drenched. I bet she's just dying for you to fuck her. You could just push her legs apart and slide right in. So easy. She'd take it all in one stroke."

Matt steps back and slides his spit-slick finger--fingers, plural, fuck yes--into her from behind, groaning as they sink in deep. He's probably imagining his cock in their place, and now she is too, and a cold wave of pleasure rolls over her. "Yeah," Matt says hoarsely, "she would. Just...like...this."

Karen whimpers against Foggy's neck, and she's grateful for his strong arms holding her up, because her legs are shaking as Matt strokes her, stretches her, fills her slowly with his fingers. "Matt, that's--" she gasps, "yes, like that. Foggy, god yes. More. Please."

"She wants it bad, Matt. Are you gonna give it to her?"

"No." Matt's fingers thrust into her one more time, firm, deliberate, then pull out. Karen whines, long and mournful, but then Matt's hands are back on her hips and his lips by her ear. "I want you to fuck her."

Foggy draws a shaking breath. "Okay. Yeah, that works. Wow."

Karen wonders for a moment why she doesn't seem to have a say in who fucks whom, but quickly decides that she doesn't actually care because Matt's fingers are digging into her skin as he orders Foggy to lie on the bed. Foggy's cock is twitching against his belly, and his eyes are wide with admiration as Matt rolls one of Karen's nipples between his fingers and then pushes her forward, gently, guiding her to straddle Foggy's hips. Matt's hands wander over them both, touching and pressing and grabbing like he can't get enough of them, like he's in a desert and they're the first water he's found in a week. He slides one hand between them, wrapping around the base of Foggy's cock, angling it up while his other hand presses Karen gently back. She feels the head slip between her lips and she shudders, wanting to just sink down onto it and fuck herself raw, but she lets Matt move her, pose her, his hands resting on her hips once again as his breath ghosts across her shoulder.

She's about to ask when she can move, when Matt grabs her by the hips and pulls her down. Foggy lets out an inarticulate yell as he slides into her, and Karen echoes it as she feels him filling her, stretching her, twitching inside her. "Fuck yes," Matt whispers, panting as if he's the one buried inside her, and his fingers slowly release her hips.

"I need to move," Foggy says, his voice strained. "Please, Matt."

"Yes," Matt hisses. "Do it."

And then Foggy's hands are on her hips, right where Matt had been grabbing her, and he surges up into her, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. Every thrust sends a bright spark of pleasure through her center, and Matt's hands are on her back, her chest, her face, touching her as if he's trying to see every curve of her body. Karen can't figure out what to do with her own hands; they're on Foggy's chest, they're fisting in the sheets, they're grabbing weakly at Matt while he leans down and kisses Foggy deep and hard. Foggy slams into her harder as Matt reaches back to rub circles over her clit, never breaking the kiss, and she comes, shuddering, with a long keening cry that probably has the neighbors rolling their eyes, but she can't bring herself to give one single fuck about what the neighbors think right now.

Foggy lets out a long groan and tries to rock her hips against him faster, but she levers herself up so that he can't get any friction. He's so hard he's throbbing, and it would be so easy to just let him have his way with her, roll her over and fuck her like he needs to, but she's feeling stretched and relaxed and hungry, and Matt's not the only one around here who can give orders. Foggy whines a little in the back of his throat and jerks his hips, but she doesn't let him go any deeper.

"You are so gorgeous," she says. "Both of you."

Matt makes low growling noise against Foggy's chest, and she strokes his hair with one hand while she traces a line down Foggy's cock with the other. "My beautiful, sexy boys," she murmurs. "I want you both inside me. Like we talked about."

Matt's adams apple bobs as he swallows, and Foggy sucks in a long, shuddering breath. "Oh my god, Karen," Foggy says, his face breaking into a huge grin, "just when I thought things couldn't get any better, bam! Here we are. Better."

Karen laughs, and she strokes the side of Matt's face. He turns into the touch like he's seeking warmth, and she asks, "okay, Matt?"

Matt nods. "Okay," he says, his voice ragged. "Very, very okay."

"Good," Karen says, and kisses him. This time she takes control, pushing back against his force as she climbs off Foggy, turning the kiss into something slower, more languid. "Lie back," she murmurs against his lips, and he does, his cloudy eyes fixed on the ceiling and his chest rising and falling with a quick, unsteady rhythm. She glances over at Foggy, who has already retrieved the lube from her bedside table and watches them with rapt attention, his cock still hard and twitching. Karen raises her eyebrows at him and gestures towards Matt as if to say, just look at this guy, and Foggy nods enthusiastically in response, silently mouthing, I know, right?!

It's funny how all three of them seem to think they're the luckiest person in the room.

Karen straddles Matt and rocks her hips against him, watching his hands clench and pull at the sheets as she lets her slick folds slide across his cock. His mouth opens and closes wordlessly, and she thinks she hears a tiny bit of tearing from the fabric (he's gonna owe her another set of sheets), and he's just so beautiful that she can't stand it. She repositions herself, tilts her hips slightly, and feels his cock slide into her, inch by agonizing inch, as she pushes back against him as slowly as she can manage. Her eyes slip shut and she moans, knowing that he can feel the vibrations everywhere on him, around him.

Matt gasps, his hands clamping down on her thighs almost hard enough to hurt. She hums softly and starts to move, but he presses back against her, keeping her still. "Please," he whispers, his voice cracking, "just...give me a minute. I can't--I won't last long."

She nods, knowing he can feel it. "Whatever you need, Matt."

Foggy squeezes some lube into his hand, rubs it between his fingers to warm it up. "We'll just have to find a way to keep ourselves occupied while you do your yoga meditation stuff or whatever," he says, dragging one finger down Karen's spine and down between her ass cheeks, tracing her tight hole with a slick fingertip. "Got any ideas, Karen?"

She wants to snark back at him, she really does, but the feel of his finger pressing against her, inside her while Matt shivers underneath her is too much, so she just throws her head back to rest on Foggy's shoulder and moans shamelessly. He works his finger all the way inside her and starts to slowly move it in and out, and Matt gasps again. "Foggy!"

Foggy's finger stills. "You can feel that, huh?" Matt bites his lip and nods vigorously, and Karen gasps as Foggy crooks his finger inside her, sending Matt into a spasm beneath her. "Is this okay? Do we have to wait?"

Matt shakes his head. "No, it's fine. It's...kind of distracting. But good. Really good."

Foggy chuckles. "Good, because I don't think I can wait. God, Karen, you're so tight. Your ass is amazing."

Karen can't do anything but moan, because Foggy's finger is moving again, hot against her skin, and it's joined by another. He presses into her, stretching her until the burn fades and all she can feel is him, sliding in and out of her while Matt tenses with every stroke, like a rubber band stretched right to its breaking point. "More," she whispers, and Foggy adds some more lube and a third finger, and she feels fuller than she ever has before, but she knows they're not done yet, and the anticipation fills her with another burn. Heat curls in her belly as she imagines what's coming next.

Foggy pistons his fingers in and out, stretching and pushing and rubbing until her muscles loosen up and accept him. "Foggy," she begs, "Foggy, please. I'm ready, come on. Fuck me."

"Don't have to tell me twice," he says, then his fingers are gone and she feels so empty that she reaches back as if to reassure herself that he's still there. His voice shakes as he slicks some more lube over his cock. "Matt? This okay?"

Matt nods sharply with gritted teeth. Karen splays her hands on his chest and he relaxes, just slightly. His cock twitches inside her, and she can't help rocking her hips against him in response. "Nnnngh," he says, helplessly.

And then there's blunt pressure against her ass, and Foggy's got one hand on her shoulder, bracing himself on her as he slowly, carefully, pushes into her. It's perfect, the way they're filling her up, fuller than she's ever been, fuller than she could've ever imagined, and Matt is uttering a nonstop stream of profanity--"fuck yes, Foggy, oh, don't stop, fuck, this is, I can't, Karen, fuck"--while Foggy rocks into her, the motion making her rise and fall on Matt's thick cock. She rocks with him, finding a rhythm of short, stabbing strokes that they can maintain while Matt finally finds himself and starts thrusting up into her. Foggy starts to babble incoherently at that, Matt's name the only intelligible things to pass his lips, and Karen knows he's close, so close; she reaches back, gets a handful of his hair, and pulls his head down so she can whisper in his ear.

"Come for me."

And he does, hard and loud, his fingers digging red marks into her hips. She keeps moving through it, fucking herself on Matt's cock while he writhes and gasps beneath her. "You too, Matt," she says, her voice low and firm, "I want you to come. You're so beautiful; I want to watch you. Come for me, Matt." She rakes her fingernails down his chest, and he's gone, tears streaming from his eyes as he comes in hot spurts inside her. "Yessssss," she hisses, grinding her hips against him desperately while Foggy squeezes her like he's afraid she'll fly away.

Nobody says anything for a long time, but the room is far from silent; they're all breathing heavily for several minutes, and Karen can hear at least one heartbeat that's not her own, so she's pretty sure it must be deafening for Matt. Foggy finds them a couple of towels, and he and Karen do some perfunctory cleanup before falling back into bed.

Matt still hasn't moved, just stares sightlessly up at the ceiling while Karen curls herself around him, her arm across his chest and legs tangled together with his. Foggy is a comforting weight against her back, and he strokes her hair affectionately as she puts her hand on the side of Matt's face and gently turns his head towards them. "You doing okay?" she asks, tracing the line of his jaw.

"Yeah," he croaks, then swallows and clears his throat. "Yeah," he repeats, his voice clearer, "I'm good. Great, even. Just a little overwhelmed. What about you? You're not hurt, or..."

"Of course not," she says with a smile. "I think 'great, but a little overwhelmed' just about covers it." Matt catches her hand, twines his fingers with hers.

"I'm fine, by the way," Foggy says, huffing dramatically. "You know, since you were all wondering."

Karen laughs, and feels Matt chuckling silently against her. She turns and pulls Foggy close for a lazy kiss, and this time it's like they have all the time in the world.