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move like u stole it

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Okay, so: Foggy had spent years assuming that Matt knew what he was doing, in bed. You didn't attract the kind of women that Matt attracted if you were hopeless, after all. And yeah, you scratched that food-snob silk-loving picky little shit, and you hit the vein of worrying austerity almost immediately, but Foggy hadn't really considered it until it became his (happy) business. And sure, Matt was the kind of ridiculously generous guy who was more than happy to spend half an hour slowly fingering Foggy open until he was ready to cry out of sheer fucking impatience, and he was amazing at both lazy kissing and the kind of hard, sweet strokes that hit exactly right until Foggy came all over himself. And sure, okay, fine, so when Foggy went down on him he got ridiculously sensitive and flushed and tended to babble the most ridiculous mix of filthy and sweet things -

Anyways. Generally speaking, Matt knew what he was doing, but sometimes he managed to surprise Foggy.

"Wait, never?" he'd asked, and Matt had stretched, acting lazy and unselfconscious, the ass, because he knew how pretty he was all naked and flushed and properly fucked. In Foggy's sheets. Foggy had a little - teeny - thing about Matt in his bed, and Matt in his shirts. He was okay with it; it wasn't like he was ever going to get weird. Matt seemed to like it, when Foggy got a little possessive.

"No?" Matt had asked, and scratched at the half-healed scab along his ribs. "I dunno, it seemed like - cheating, I guess? I never needed one, nobody ever complained."

"Oh my god," Foggy said. "Cheating. Yeah, like fire is cheating? I mean, Matt, this is tragic, I guess we could still eat our meat raw off - animal bones, sure, whatever, but a steak is so much better than raw meat."

"There's no shame in admitting you need a little help as you get older," Matt said, ridiculously pleased, because Matt had been a competitive little shit since day one. That was fine; sometimes Matt honestly was right. (He'd been right about the handcuffs, which had been a slightly worrying surprise, because it was true. Those hadn't ever done anything for Foggy until it'd been Matt.) This time, though? Foggy was right, and it was going to rock when Matt figured it out, this was going to be awesome. He could hardly wait. "You're weirdly happy about me calling you old," Matt said, and grinned.

Foggy belly-flopped across his ridiculous abs, ignoring his oof of surprise. In the least surprising turn of events ever, Matt had turned out to be the kind of cuddler who'd pretend he hated cuddling until he passed out. It was now Foggy's job to trap him in bed: it was a tough job, but he was happy to sacrifice for the cause. "Sometimes you're right, and sometimes you're wrong, wrong, wrong," he said, happily. "I betcha I can prove it, you dork, this is gonna change your life, I can't believe I get to be the first one to show you - " and then a terrible, awful thought hit: "Aw, jeez, do not tell me you had a traumatic experience?"

Matt started laughing, hard enough that Foggy could feel it. He made kind of a bony, muscly pillow, but nobody could be perfect. "No," Matt said, finally: "no, I just - it never seemed really exciting, that's all."

"Yes!" Foggy cheered. "Just you wait, dude."




He had Matt hold it in his his hand, first, because he didn't like actually springing things on Matt. (When they'd first started spending the night - generally at Matt's place, because his apartment was way more organized than Foggy's - it had taken a few weeks before Matt seemed to settle into the idea of another human sharing his space. One of the many, many pieces of the suckfest that was "regularly going out to beat people up.") Turned it on the lowest setting; Matt leaned back against his headboard, looking (always fucking gorgeous) a little bemused. "So it's a vibrator, fine," he said. "I mean, I know what they are, Foggy, I've dated women before."


Matt went a little pinker across the very tops of his cheeks. "I mean. It's kind of...loud? And it's -" he seemed to weigh it, in his hand: "isn't it a little...big?"

"You are so full of shit, I love it," Foggy said, in real admiration, and tackled him. ("Ow! no! quit it!" Matt giggled, in between volleys into what maybe devolved into a particularly stupid pillow fight.)

"It's fine," Matt said, more than a little breathless, from where he'd draped himself across Foggy. "I still don't get the big deal, but it's fine, c'mon, take me for a ride."

"I get why Daredevil is silent and mysterious," Foggy told him, "when you talk everyone can see what a giant dork you are, ow." But it was good; he dumped Matt onto his front and slapped his ass, and Matt made an exaggerated hissing noise in an attempt to disguise how much he really did like it when Foggy spanked him. (They hadn't had that talk yet, because Foggy really enjoyed a) occasionally smacking Matt's perfect ass, and b) watching Matt try to cover up how much he liked it, because the man couldn't act for shit.)

And then he got a little distracted, because it was always fucking awesome to watch Matt shift when Foggy curled his finger in for the first time; the way that Matt felt, on the inside, the hot clutch of his body? Never going to get old; Foggy was probably going to get a little stupid about it when he was eighty. And - there, there we go, he thought, delighted - because Matt made a little happy noise down in his throat.

There; plenty of Matt's ridiculously expensive lube, and two or three fingers, in and out, watching Matt take it just about as sweet as anyone ever did, until he saw the sweat pop up along Matt's spine. Bingo: ha, Murdock, yeah, that was just about - yeah.

"Hey, sunshine," he said, and Matt shivered and said "oh, you're - ah! a -alive back there," which was cute, really, like any amount of sass was going to cover up the way his arms were shaking from the strain of holding himself up, and the way he'd been pushing back onto Foggy's fingers for the last five minutes.

Foggy grinned and bit his shoulder, not very hard, and said "so this is why vibrators are awesome, welcome to the industrial age," and twisted it to the lowest setting and laid the tip against the very entrance to Matt's ass, no pressure, just – resting it there, letting him get an idea of the feeling.

Matt shouted in surprise and – and dropped to one elbow, which – wasn't even a little bit surprising, but it was still hot as fuck, seeing him lose control. “nnngh,” he said, which was even more awesome, Foggy got a little – tiny bit distracted, had to stroke himself a couple of times, because holy shit, this was gonna -

Matt pushed himself back up. “Do – do that again,” he said, breathless and dazed.

“Oh yeah,” Foggy said. “Hey, Matty, flip over, you don't gotta hold yourself up.”

“I can - “

“I wanna see your face when I fuck you,” Foggy explained, which got Matt over on his back, winning, ha! And then of course Matt threw an arm over his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow, but that was fine, that was – god, he was so pretty, all flushed and panting, so Foggy leaned over and kissed him, quick, and that went straight to his cock, so he had to back off again, slide the vibrator in one long slow even push.

Matt's stomach clenched. He whined and grabbed the sheets with one hand, his own hair with the other; his hips were already stuttering.

"Hey, hey," Foggy said. "I gotcha," and braced himself by pushing a forearm down across Matt's hips. Which helped, because when he licked a stripe up the bottom of Matt's slick hard cock, Matt tried to jack knife up into it. He made a really indescribable noise, and Foggy wound up groaning, couldn't help himself: he was a sex genius.




"whoa whoa hey," Foggy managed. He didn't want to - to go slow, now seemed like a good time to go ahead at eighty miles an hour, but he needed to check in, here. because. Had to be sure about these things. Matt got weirdly sensitive and weirdly stoic at the same time, and - "gimme a color."

Matt made some kind of noise that went straight to Foggy's dick and undulated up against Foggy's forearm, hard, and as far up against the vibrator as he could. " fucking. kidding. me," he managed, and then he panted a little bit, for a minute, and growled "more," like Daredevil, which was. That was new, and probably later Foggy was going to have to think about how it made him jerk and rub against Matt's hip for a minute, but right now it just. It just. That was.

"oh," Foggy said. Not everybody could be gravelly-voiced fucking sex porn artists like Matt, so it sort of came out higher than usual, a little shocked. Fuck. Fuck, the way Matt was - he pulled his own hair, again, and Foggy had maybe enough brain cells to figure it was probably 50% Matt, wanting that particular pain to balance out the rest of it, and 50% Matt on his weird crusade to make sure he never touched Foggy hard enough to leave a mark.

So he wasn't some bizarre vigilante: he could still have layers. So here, when he demanded "no, a color, Matt," that was at least 60% honest-to-god worried about Matt, who had the bad habit of reflexively lying whenever he experienced anything negative, Foggy wasn't dumb, he knew that, and 40% let's-be-honest here holy god: it was the hottest kind of power trip, to make Matt say that he liked it before he gave him any more. Couldn't tell a lie; it was one of the perks of being Matt's special friend.

"aaargh," Matt said, and it looked like he bit the inside of his cheek, hey, not fair, but he got it together enough to say "green yes green yes more," sort of hissing out the last part of it, wildly demanding, yes, Foggy had beaten this level, he'd won, because when he could get Matt to get honestly greedy instead of friendly and detached. That's when he went for it: sliding the vibe in and out slow and even in and out of Matt's body. Matt grabbed for the sheets, knuckles white and hard, and his hips shifted up and down, and his cock leaked wet and messy against his stomach: there was nothing about this that wasn't brain-scorchingly awesome.
- so for a minute there it got more than a little fucking confusing, more like grappling like anything else, because Matt was fighting to fuck the vibrator and Foggy turned it up, more than a little bit, fine, but he'd caught the way the sweat shone at Matt's hairline and also the way his dick was jerking against his stomach. And then Matt pulled hard with the fist in the sheets, muscles standing out in that arm, but he also dropped a hand down to Foggy's face, fumbling at his jaw, grabbing for a handhold in his hair, still gentle but a little bit harder than usual, and lost all control of his breathing, thrusting up in hard short strokes - and - and - and all of that sort of came together. Foggy didn't have enough hands, he wanted to clutch at his own dick but fuck it, he could wait, he could wait, and he licked at the head of Matt's dick, sloppy, the worst fucking head he'd ever given, but Matt yowled like an animal and his hips stuttered and he came all over his own stomach and half of Foggy's face.

At which point he had just enough presence of mind - because forget sex genius, this was thor or captain america levels of heroism here - he turned the vibrator off, braced himself, leaning over Matt, and he got a hand around his own sorely fucking neglected dick and jerked, quick, tight, hot. Couldn't take his eyes off him, because he'd gone slackjawed and breathless, eyes rolled back into his head. Just knowing he'd got that reaction was enough to send Foggy over the edge himself, home run, goal, mind officially blown, yeah, this had been the best idea.




"Oh my god," Foggy said, a little while later. He hadn't consciously decided to trap Matt into cuddles this time, he'd just - sort of collapsed. They were sticky. He wasn't sure how much longer they had on the clock, before Matt got grossed out enough to shove him off and go hunting for the washcloth or the baby wipes.

"Mrrgh," Matt said, and groped around, pulling him closer.

Okay, maybe a little while longer, probably.

"I so won," Foggy said. He was gross, he was amazing, he - he bit Matt on the side? nipple? rib-type area, whatever was under his mouth, because he deserved some acknowledgement, here, as the clear victor.

"...d'dnot," Matt declared. Five minutes later, when Foggy was just about asleep (he knew Matt did it on purpose, he absolutely did) and ignoring the way he was getting poked in the ribs, Matt grumbled "y'llow, red, you're sticky, get off."

Foggy rolled over, thought about getting up for a washcloth or something, and accidentally closed his eyes for a minute while he was thinking about it. Woke up again properly when Matt got back and threw a - "cold!" washcloth on his stomach.

"You're gross," Matt said, totally unapologetic. He still looked a little shaky and wildly pleased. "If you people could smell yourselves, you'd stop giving me -" and surprised himself with a huge yawn. "Why'm I - it's not even eight yet, c'mon, up."

"No, man, we're - this is the part where we admire ourselves." Foggy scrubbed at his face - ew, gross, thank god for Matt - "well. me. We admire me and my awesome ideas."