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Clearly Now the Rain Is Gone

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The thing is, Matt explained this to him like it was something medical, clinical. When that failed, he pulled out the puppy eyes. “Foggy, please, I need this.” Clearly its something he does when he’s alone but now Foggy knows everything, everything, and that Matt would feel okay asking is a big deal. Huge. The biggest.

“You want me to make you come.”

“No, it’s like- I need to be overwhelmed by one sensation sometimes. I dont have an isolation tank or anything that stops me from smelling and tasting and hearing the world but if all I can experience is touch, then for a little while, the other three...they go away?”

“But isn't that scary, not to be able to sense things?”

Matt had looked at him, which was so crazy, to know that all these years Matt really had been looking at him, just not with his eyes. “Is closing your eyes scary Foggy?”

Okay that was a fair point. “It is if I’m not still.”

“Doing this makes everything else still so I’m okay to close down.”

“Rest. You need to rest.”

Matt’s smile had lit up his face. “Yes. Yeah, that exactly. So I know it’s a lot to ask but would you help me?”

Turns out help me means having Matt sprawled out naked on his bed, knees bent, hungry hole swallowing four of his fingers as he milked a third orgasm out of Matt while he cried actual tears without them even kissing, without Foggy even taking off his tie.

As soon as his body was done bowing with orgasm he pants. “Again. Foggy I can take it again. It has to happen again. I'm not there.” For the first time Foggy realizes the tears are actually from frustration not pleasure. God, he can't imagine how hard it must be not to have any peace in his own body. Still, they've been at this barely forty-five minutes.

“Are you seriously saying-”

“Till I’m empty,” Matt gasp, hand going down to wrap around Foggy’s wrist. “Until you talk to me but I can’t answer you.”

“How long will you not be able to talk to me?”

“Twenty minutes? An hour maybe? Foggy please. I’ll say stop. I swear to his grave okay?”

Foggy nods. When Matt swears to on his dad’s grave, he means it to bind. It makes a lot of the fear of what he’s going to do ease away. Matt has lied about a lot of things but he would never even prevaricate with his father’s name. Not even during sex.”I’m nodding.”

“’i know.”

“Well you’re not supposed to. I’m obviously not doing my job right.” He leans down and places a kiss on Matt’s hip and it makes him jump. It’s an intamacy Matt clearly wasn’t expecting. He kisses his way across Matt’s stomach to his cock, half limp but rallying, and taking Matt’s cock in his mouth.

Matt shouts which is a good sign considering Foggy hasn’t blown anyone since junior year of undergrad (really great PhiMu party that ended with him in a threesome with the Treasurer of the sorority and her boyfriend).He crooks his fingers and presses his fingers on the button of Matt’s prostate again and again and winthin five short minutes he’s choking on a mouth full of come. Some of it spills out the corners of his mouth and he laughs but doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers even as he pulls back to wipe his face.

Matt isn’t laughing. His eyes are clenched shut and he’s slamming himself hard back against Foggy’s hand. He is slippery and hot and so beautiful he should be hanging in an art gallery, just like this.

Foggy puts a hand on his hip stilling him and Matt cries out, his words gone. He’s getting hard again. Super senses, how about a super cock. Foggy was never going to let him live this down. Not in front of Karen but still. Never. Five in under an hour had to be like a record Captain America couldn’t shake a stick at.

“Please,” Matt pants and that's no good. He should be nonverbal. That's what he wanted. That’s what Foggy’s going to give him. He takes advantage of the stillness to tuck his thumb against his palm and slide his hand forward again. Matt takes it like the fucking champ he is. He just whimpers and throws his head back, spreading his legs wider and wider.


“Shh. I got you, Matty,” Foggy promises, twisting his pointed fingers inside him, making sure his thumb knuckle grates hard on the prostate over and over. "I got you. You can let go."

Matt sobs again but its different this time, almost painful in its relief as he comes, his cock jerking but nothing comes out but a few sad spurts of precome. Matt curls carefully onto his side and closes his eyes, his face slack. Foggy takes that as a sign that they're done, that Matt has reached that quiet place and goes to pull his hand out but Matt's hand shoots out before he even realizes he's moving and clasps his wrist, his grip clearly indicating that Foggy is going nowhere.

It's super awkward, sitting there with his fist inside his best friend's ass for a solid twenty minutes when he still feels so hot and will occasionally tighten and clench around his palm and fingers. Foggy wants to jerk off so badly but that's not what they agreed on and he doesn't want to startle Matt out of his repose. So he sits there, with the single most attractive person he's ever met, naked, come-drenched, illuminated by the streetlights and hot around his hand and just lets his dick suffer. He's a good guy like that.

It really is a half an hour before Matt comes back to himself. His fist unclenches from around Foggy's wrist. His body tenses as sound and smell and taste reenter his world. He is still the most gorgeous thing Foggy's ever seen but now he knows the difference between Relaxed Matt and Trying to Convince People He's Relaxed Matt. It's huge.

He wipes his now free hand on his slacks and tries to find something to look at that isn't Matt and fails. His back is whipcord and scars. Foggy isn't the least surprised with himself to find he wants to trace those scars with his mouth as he pulls himself slowly to orgasm.

He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize Matt's moved until he's on top of him. Naked Matt straddling him is a seriously eye opening experience as it were, though. His sweaty thumbs stroke over Foggy's lower lip and holy shit. This is it. This is the moment its going to happen. Five years and thousands of days and this is going to be the day, the moment, when Matt Murdock is going to kiss him. Foggy only feels like he's been waiting for this moment his whole goddamn life. No big.

"Are you done waiting?" Matt asks and neither of them pretend ignorance. This has always been there. Friends don't ask friends to fistfuck them into oblivion. They just don't. Maybe they never were simply best friends. Maybe they were always more if Matt could ask for this so easily, could share himself so completely.

Foggy doesn't know. He's just glad they are what they are, which is something close that involves probably a lot of love. "Are you?" Foggy counters.

Matt answers with that kiss Foggy realized he was waiting for. It's slow, lips and a little tongue, almost chaste but it's a start and Matt going for his belt, well that's an excellent continuation. He doesn't see an ending any time soon. Not after today.