Work Text:
All of You
The sun streams through the blinds in golden rays, bright strings of light painting Matt’s skin in gold.
Foggy watches, turned on his side on the comfortable mattress in his lover’s room. They’re covered in a white sheet thrown askew, tangled in their legs as memory of last night. He remembers the echoes, the kisses, the beautiful sounds Matt had made beneath him as he came undone. He remembers the curl of his toes, how his fingers clenched into the sheet either side of him and then attaching themselves to Foggy’s neck, legs lifting to wrap around his waist desperately.
Foggy sighs, and blows a stray hair from his eyes, watching as his boyfriend’s breath hitches in his sleep. Matt’s curl towards him, locks of dark hair messy and unkempt, lashes long and evident against pale skin. One of his hands is flat against the mattress, fingers splayed as if reaching for Foggy’s warmth during his sleep. He’s comfortable, and without tension, and his barriers have been torn down gloriously.
Foggy can make out the lines of his lean figure, the flat plane of his chest etched with scars old and new, the bones sharp in his shoulders, the edges of his collar bones beneath the hollowness of his long neck.
It’s only when his gaze travels down to where the sheet has been entangled in the prison of Matt’s long legs, toes peeking through the other side, does he realise Matt’s waking.
His eyes flutter open gently and slowly, revealing irises of chocolate brown painted with highlights of amber. They’re unfocused at first, moving with deliberate ease before they settle in his general direction. They’re swirls of colour, a million tones and shades in two bright orbs. They’re beautiful.
“Morning.” Matt’s voice breaks his reverie, with a little less of its usual smoothness. Foggy can hear the morning in his tone, remembers the taste of those lips against him as Matt smiles.
“You’re beautiful,” he replies, because Matt is, now in the light of the morning, stretched out beside him pale and ruffled and undone. He feels the other’s fingers inching towards his chest, blunt nails gently scraping against the skin on his collarbone. He feels a shiver run through him at the touch, and leans into it.
Matt’s smile widens at the edges, laughter lines Foggy doesn’t see often enough at the corners of his eyes. He lets out a quiet yawn,
“Love you, Foggy,” he replies lazily. Foggy relishes in those words, in these small moments of rarity. Matt’s back arches in his stretch, languidly, like a cat. The sheet slides against his skin and sinks a little lower.
Foggy more so feels than sees Matt’s hand slide from his chest to his cheek, lean fingers sliding beneath his jaw to graze lightly along his cheekbone. Matt’s thumb brushes against his lips and he lays a quick kiss against them, causing the other man to laugh. It’s weightless and content and the most melodic sound he’s ever heard, and Foggy wants it to last forever.
“You’re making me blush,” Matt jokes, but there’s a growing pink flush to his cheeks. And then Foggy gets an idea.
He stretches one of his arms around Matt’s narrow waist and pulls him up, fingers coming to splay on either side of his flat hips as he pulls the other man to straddle his legs.
Matt complies, and lets out another short chuckle. His fingers move to Foggy’s shoulders for balance, spread against the soft skin.
“This feels familiar,” he says softly, legs at either side of Foggy’s, less than a sheet to separate them. Foggy wants so much to bury himself into Matt, hands at his waist, wood creaking in response as Matt arches his back and makes beautiful sounds and breathes his name in between moans.
Instead, he knows this moment is far too precious to waste. He draws the other down with two hands on his jaw and pulls him into a kiss.
It’s soft and sweet and slow and familiar. Matt’s lips still taste like last night, tongue dancing along Foggy’s teeth and allowing him entrance. It’s lazing and calming, and Foggy can’t help but love the slow movement of their mouths against each other, like two missing pieces of a puzzle.
When they break away for breath, there’s a light flush which lingers down Matt’s neck and his chest. His lips are kiss-swollen and his hair looks untameable as he straddles Foggy’s lap, lean legs imprisoning him. “We should do this all the time.” He murmurs as Matt leans down to place a kiss into his hair, and Foggy’s own kisses pepper his throat.
Matt chuckles, and Foggy can feel the vibrations against his chest, the echoes lingering.
“It’s Saturday, Foggy. If we did this all the time, we’d never leave the apartment.”
“I’d be okay with that,” he replies immediately. Matt pauses in his movements, eyes focussing on a spot on Foggy’s chest, beneath his collarbone. His smile falls of his face and all echoes of the laugh leave, crinkles along the corners of his eyes smoothing out. His dark locks cast shadows on his pale skin, and his fingers tighten around Foggy, shoulders drooping the slightest.
Foggy mentally kicks himself.
He loves Matt, with every fibre of his being, all soft edges and sharp angles and hero complex and ridiculous beauty. And then there’s the Catholic side he loves too, but it’s the side with so much guilt placed on lean shoulders. He knows how Matt feels about Daredevil, how he hates himself for doing it, how he can’t help it, how he can’t bring himself stop. He’s seen Matt’s low days, when his smile won’t reach eyes with bruise like shadows around them, when his voice is quieter than usual and he won’t say much. He knows the nights Matt will just lie beside him silently and grasp his hand tightly, burying his face in Foggy’s shoulder and refusing to cry.
Matt rolls away from him to land on his back. Their shoulders are touching.
“Sorry,” he says, a word weighed down so terrible. Foggy hates it.
He turns to face him again, and places on hand on his waist. “Matt.” He speaks softly, voice gentle but firm.
Matt doesn’t respond, so he tries again. “Matt.”
Matt lifts his head a little, and Foggy can see the pursing of his lips. “You know I love you right?” His lover lets out a short breath, lips parting to reply that it’s the most obvious thing. “Like, all of you, Matt.”
His fingers tighten around his waist and Foggy shifts closer so that they’re inches apart.
“I love my best friend, my partner, Daredevil.” Matt looks up sharply, and Foggy continues, “All of you Matt.” He gazes at the man before him, selfless and heroic and so terribly in love with Foggy too, “All of you,” he repeats. “I wouldn’t change you for the world, Mattie, not for anything.”
And then Matt’s lips are on his again, and they’re a little more desperate and frantic and Foggy is pulled into a replay of last night and he doesn’t mind at all. He’s breaking down Matt’s barriers on day at time, one word at a time, one kiss at a time.
He knows there isn’t anything Matt wouldn’t do for him, and knows he’d do the exact same for him. He knows that’s what scares both of them the most.
“Don’t say things like that,” Matt gasps between breaths, words heavy and weighed. He leans his head to bury it into the curve of Foggy’s neck, as if it’s all becoming too much.
Foggy silently shakes his head, refusing to let it go, “It’s true Matt, I love you and I’m going to spend the rest of our lives making you believe it.”
When Matt looks up, Foggy sees eyes darkened by the throes of life, kind eyes, loving eyes, and in that moment he knows he will do anything to see the laugh lines around them again. He wants to protect Matt, as naïve as that may seem, wants to keep him in his arms forever, hear nothing but his laugh forever, lift the damn weight of the world from his shoulders. He wants to take away the guilt, the self-deprecation, wants to show Matt just how much he’s worth to him.
There’s a smile somewhere, and trust, and then it’s the feel of Matt skin against his own, the melody of breathlessness and gasps as they entangle themselves within the sheets and he buries himself, Matt tight around him. Their hands are entwined and there’s kissing, and seeing Matt arching beneath him against the mattress, muttering his name between gasps, it sends him over the edge.
In that moment, when they find themselves within each other, when they complete each other, Foggy knows there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Matt.
Not for the world.