Izzy here, with my fanfic, “End in Burning Flames or Paradise,” the third and final installment of my post-Season 2 Matt/Foggy/Karen angry!sex trilogy. Just a standard adult content warning for this one, I think. Marvel owns them.

End in Burning Flames or Paradise

By Izzy

It’s all going to Hell. And Foggy’s going with it all. He knows that with every step he takes up these stairs.

It’s been going to Hell for a long time without anyone even telling him about it, and there’s part of him that still wants to punch Matt out for not telling him that the powerful guy that they put in prison but remained powerful anyway is planning to destroy both their lives. Had he learned that earlier, he might have even taken that as evidence that Matt really doesn’t care about him anymore. He even voiced that possibility when Karen told him, which got her yelling at him that if he’d seen and heard Matt and what he’d said, there’s no way he’d believe that.

But as it is, he does believe Matt genuinely convinced himself he shouldn’t tell Foggy, and that his martyr complex really is capable of making him that stupid.

He intends to tell Matt exactly how stupid tonight. He’s not sure how this meeting is going to go, and he’s kind of scared it’s going to end with him doing something even more stupid. But it’s happening, tonight, while Karen goes and has dinner with Cheryl and a couple of the other PAs she’s become good friends with, because they’re not sure how much they’re going to see of each other in the days to come, because tomorrow her article about Jeri will be published.

Foggy doesn’t know if Jeri will sue. He knows Matt has looked at Karen’s ducks on the record, and he himself has looked off it, and they’re all perfectly in place in their row. She might see that and concede Karen’s won. She might even not see it as worth the risk of the truth about her late wife’s death coming out; Jessica has finally told Foggy that story, and while all three of her, Jeri, and Pam have reached an agreement that it’s best it doesn’t go public, it always could.

But if she decides to go down fighting, that means it’ll be Matt and not Karen who’ll be showing up in the offices of Hogarth, Chao, Benowitz, and Nelson, at least as long as it remains that. Part of the reason Foggy’s doing this tonight is because he might no longer be able to avoid Matt anyway. He’s even already told Karen that if there’s any help he can safely and ethically give them, he’ll remain available. So yeah, they need to be on speaking terms again.

He even kind of hopes that Jeri does push them into court. He has no doubt Matt will destroy her the way she deserves, which would also help repair his reputation.

He wonders if he even needs to knock. There’s no way, after all, provided he’s home, that Matt won’t know he’s here and it’s him and exactly what emotional state he’s in. He does so mostly because he’s worried Matt will pull the suit on and flee if he doesn’t. He’s also worried he will anyway.

Instead, Matt’s footsteps are fast, as if he’s afraid of Foggy fleeing. Not exactly an unfounded fear there. He nearly does bolt as the door opens.

Matt is wearing a hoodie with the hood down and sweatpants, both looking very worn. His hair isn’t a huge mess, but it is on the unkempt side. He’s not wearing his glasses. At first glance, he actually doesn’t look that different from how he was by the end. There aren’t even any visible injuries on him.

But when Foggy looks a little closer, he can see his face is thinner, and a little sunken. He already looked tired all the time, but now it’s worse. There’s something about him that makes Foggy feel like he’s looking at a man no longer living.

He wants to hug Matt. He wants to punch him. He wants to kiss him. He wants to just break down and cry in front of him.

“Foggy…” Matt has that look on his face that convinces Foggy he’s meaning to say more than just his name, but he can’t make any other words work.

“Can I come in?” he asks, hoping Matt can at least manage a nod.

He does, and Foggy walks in. But Matt has to be able to talk, he reminds himself. Otherwise this night will just be him yelling at him again, and the use of that’s pretty limited. “We need drinks,” he declares. “And I know you have food; there’s no way Karen hasn’t seen to that. Especially since I pretty much told her I was coming over here tonight.” He rifles through the cupboards before grabbing a box of pasta, some thinner penne that will cook quickly. Karen recently hinted she’s not sure how much he eats on nights she’s not there; Foggy is not going to let him go without dinner tonight.

The water’s boiling and he’s putting the pasta in when Matt says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Fisk.”

It’s not the first time Matt’s apologized for not telling Foggy something, but it is the first apology that didn’t need to be wrung out of him. And he even then continues, “Looking at the situation again, it would’ve been smarter to put you on your guard, although at the moment I do not think Fisk has yet taken action against either of us. I-I-I think if he had gotten out of prison I might have told you then…” Oh great, now he’s going into the excuses and claims, and he hasn’t made the admission Foggy really wants out of him.

So he interrupts, “So why didn’t you? I know Karen’s pointed out to you already exactly why you should’ve, and even when you’ve been an idiot, Matt, you’ve never been foolish before, not like this. Was it because you didn’t want to bother me about it? Just wanted to somehow protect me all by yourself and do everything yourself without innocent virtuous little me even knowing anything about it?”

He brings a pair of beers over to where Matt has sat down, and stands in front of him, but doesn’t offer Matt his just yet, waiting. Matt, figuring it out, reluctantly nods, and says, “Yeah, more or less. I almost felt like…like I didn’t have the right to anymore.”

It is too early in proceedings to blow up at him. He should at least wait until he’s done cooking. Foggy has to repeat that in his head several times. So he forces himself to offer Matt the beer, sits down next to him, and says, “That’s not how this ought to work. We may not be in much together anymore, but this is…I voluntarily became a part of Fisk when I let Karen take me to Ben Urich that night, and you’re right in that it’s not your call whether or not I get involved-but by saying you didn’t have the right as a reason to not tell me, you made it anyway. It’s not keeping me out you get to leave be, it’s letting me stay in. That might even have been true even if Fisk had threatened only you.”

“You helped take him down with the law.” Matt’s voice is much sharper, though not loud, not yet. “That’s different from what I might have to do if he ever gets out. I don’t know if Karen’s even told you what she’s thinking of doing…”

“No,” Foggy says, “and don’t tell me.”

“Fine.” At least he might finally be getting it on that point, although he doesn’t sound happy at all. “Suffice to say that’s not something you want to get at all involved in either.”

“Wait, so she gets to go do something about Fisk, but I don’t get to? Why’s that? You better not say that’s because she’s gotten back in with you, or I will repeat your words to her and you know she won’t like to hear that.”

“It’s not….not exactly….” Matt’s struggling for words. He stops to take a swig of the beer.

Foggy takes pity on him with a, “I’ll check the pasta.” He slows his walk on the way back to the kitchenette.

It isn’t quite time to put the sauce on, but it’s close enough that he stays by the pot, drinking his beer, watching as Matt does the same, until it is time. The sauce comes out of a jar and is microwavable, but it’s the fancy organic kind he suspects Karen has insisted on buying for him.

The plates get put down without either of them saying anything. They get seated in the same manner. They take first bites.

And then Matt comes out with, “You’re not supposed to care about me anymore.”

“What?” Foggy’s fork hits the table involuntarily. “You do not get to say that, Matt! You do not get to dictate to me whether I care about you or not. I can’t even help that myself, what makes you think you can just tell even me what’s best for me, let alone my stupid heart?”

Matt’s close to flinching at each word, which right now has no effect on Foggy. He tries to put down his fork, which makes Foggy bark at him, “Eat.” He takes another forkful himself; he needs the moment to think anyway.

Except Matt still speaks next, in between bites. “You…you could escape this. Karen…we both know Karen. She would’ve still been doing what she does even had she ended up with lawyers other than us; it would’ve happened, somehow.”

Remembering Karen’s angry accusations at him in his office the afternoon she was last there, Foggy demands, “Are you really saying I needed your friendship to be a good person?”

“Of course not,” sighs Matt, and crazily, he sounds angry himself. “I’ve never been the one to think that. And I’ve been following your career. I wouldn’t have a choice anyway, not with how much Karen talks about it. She has criticisms to make, of course, but that’s Karen; she’ll always make her demands of us. I don’t have anything to reproach you for.”

But that just makes even more of Foggy’s anger rush to the surface. “Nothing whatsoever? I know you can’t be holding me to any kind of standard then. When the hell did that start?”

“Please, Foggy.” Matt makes the kind of swallow that makes Foggy momentarily freak out about him choking. “Look, right now, you can only ask so much from me.”

“I-I-I-I can…” Foggy can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Matt, have you realized how much I let you get the fuck away with for so long? How little I asked of you, while you put me through all that you did?”

“And I told you, I’m done apologizing for who I am, and you’re better off without me, and you walked away when I told you to, as was only sensible, and it was your choice to cut yourself off from me completely the way you did.” Now Matt’s getting wound up. “And if you want to help us work against Jeri Hogarth you’re welcome to, but then again, how much can you? Especially since I’m pretty sure Jessica Jones knows something about what happened to her wife, and if she told you, you’ve already got one big thing you can’t tell us, right? It’s fine, you don’t actually have to answer that question, Foggy.”

Foggy’s forgotten how clever Matt can be sometimes, how quick to figure things out even when he’s not doing supernatural eavesdropping. That makes it all the more frustrating how he can then miss so many things that are obvious, such how much pain he’s put Foggy in. It sends him reeling enough he eats in silence for a few seconds, noting at least Matt’s doing the same.

“Look,” he finally manages, “whatever there may be which I can’t do, which may even include talking with you much when you’re in our offices, I still want to help Karen, especially if either you or she think she’s in any kind of danger, and when I say danger, I mean to her career as well. And yes, I want to help you, even if you think I’m stupid to still care about you. I always will care for you.”

At those angry words, Matt actually stands up, and again Foggy barks, “Eat. Karen will kill us both if you don’t.”

Matt’s response to that is to pointedly start jabbing the penne with his fork and eating it as fast as possible; he doesn’t even sit back down. Foggy does the same; he’s pretty sure he’ll be too angry to eat soon. Also, he doesn’t want to watch Matt’s mouth move as he eats too much; that leads to thoughts he really doesn’t need right now.

They get their plates clean at about the same time, and Matt grabs them and walks to the sink; he’s never liked having dirty dishes around, for reasons that are now pretty obvious. Foggy has to fight the urge to flee the apartment as he watches him wash, every move of his arms and legs sharp and angry. He finishes off the beer.

When the dishes are dry, Matt walks to the near end of the kitchenette, though he gets no closer to Foggy, and asks, “Why do you think I don’t care for you anymore?”

“Well, you sure as hell weren’t acting like you did! Seriously, you were even at the damn hospital; yes, Karen told me about that. Couldn’t you have just taken a moment to drop in?”

“You didn’t want me there!” Matt is finally yelling. “You’d made that clear enough already! Why are you mad at me now for doing what you as good as told me you wanted me to do?”

“I as good as told you no such thing!” Foggy’s yelling too. “Actually, I thought I made it clear the real reason I was angry was that you were never there, that you were shutting me out, that the woman who nearly ruined your life had come back and you didn’t even want to tell me until you felt you had to. And now you’ve gone and let her ruin it for real this time, and I had to find out she was dead from Karen months after the fact, and you should’ve let me be there for you!”

“Did you really want to then?” scoffed Matt. “Be honest with yourself, Foggy.”

“I still would’ve been! You still should’ve given me that choice!” He’s started crying, which, not giving a fuck about that.

“Do you think I could’ve stood to accept your condolences, under those circumstances?” Matt might start crying too any minute now; Foggy’s not sure. “Knowing that at best, you could only be sad for someone being dead in the general way, knowing I was making you be nice over someone you hated. Knowing you were doing what you were doing under obligation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?! I love you, Matt. I always have, and I always will.” Yeah, there goes the L word, but fuck it; they’re way past that point, now. “I’ll always want to help you when you’re in pain; I’ll never be able to be happy about anything that does that to you. That’s why I can’t stop caring. That’s why I’m fucked, because you’re going to keep doing this, and it killed me to see it, but it’s also killing me to be away from you. You can say there’s nothing you can do about that all you want, and I certainly don’t have the right to tell you to stop now, but you don’t get to fucking pretend I’m not hurting just to make things easier for yourself!”

“Please, Foggy, I’m doing my best! I can’t just…just…” He shakes his head. “Why did you come here? We could’ve communicated through Karen; it’s no worse than what we’ve had her do already.”

“Do you want me to go away?” He’ll do it. There are things he could still say to Matt, but he’s yelled the crux of it fine, and Matt doesn’t look like he’s going to give any response better than the ones he’s given already. Most of the likely outcomes of staying are actually bad rather than good at this point.

Except Matt bursts out, “Of course I don’t! You keep on acting like I’m the one not getting it, and then you even *ask* me that?”

“Well, what do you want me to do then? And stop being selfless Martyr Murdock for a moment and tell me what you actually want. Tell me what your id wants if you have to!”

“My id?” Matt lets out a hopeless, desperate laugh. “What my id mainly wants is for you to throw me onto my bed and fuck me senseless. There, that honest enough for you?”

Several different thoughts and feelings hit Foggy at once, all of them battling for control of his mind. In the end it’s the rage that wins out. “Who the hell do you think you are, pulling that one on me when you know perfectly well I want you, that I have for years; there’s no way you’ve missed that! If you’re just trying to get me to…” But the problem is, the heady desire that’s hit him too isn’t buckling under; he very badly wants to do just what Matt wants him to do.

But if he does that, he knows, he’ll be lost. Once he gets that tangled with Matthew Murdock he’ll lose all hope of ever getting untangled from him completely.

Not that he’s doing that good a job of it anyway, of course.

When Matt speaks again, his voice has gone soft, and turned to ice. “So you hear me give you a moment of brutal honesty, and you really think I’m doing it just to manipulate you?”

“Maybe not just,” he retorts, because he sure does recognize the significance of such words when they’re both still lawyers.

“Maybe,” and his voice is still cold, but Foggy can always hear it when Matt’s threatening to crack, “Maybe I am getting a little desperate to keep you here. Maybe you really should get out of this apartment right now, especially if that’s what you think of me.”

There’s no maybe about it. Foggy should.

He already knows he’s not going to. There have been times, maybe, when he’s been angry enough at Matt to walk away at a time when to do so would absolutely break him. There was one time, maybe, when he in fact did so. But now’s not going to be that.

Which means he might be doomed already.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Matt’s trying to keep it calm, but Foggy knows him well enough to hear the desperation in his very breathing. “Why did you come here tonight?”

Because he wanted to. Because he had to. Because it’s a night for bad decisions, or maybe just desperate ones. Because once he and Karen started talking about Matt, he started occasionally fighting back tears over how much he missed him during the *day.* Because not seeing how Matt was doing with his own eyes has been driving him crazy. He can say it was because it’s wrong of them to keep using Karen in this way and so something has to give there; that might be the right or at least the proper thing to say.

What finally comes out of his mouth is, “Because I couldn’t stand this anymore.” He lets himself break; he’s so tired of being strong. The tears start streaming down so fast it becomes harder to talk. Through them he sees Matt take a hesitant step forward. He shifts himself backwards, and his ankles flex to take a step back, but his feet still won’t budge from their place on the floor.

Matt must hear the shifting, though, and he hastily retreats back into the kitchenette. Now Foggy knows he’s doomed, because that brings him no relief, nor does a single thing to the urge to just reach out and grab him. He’s holding himself back now, but he can feel the time ticking down to the moment he runs out of willpower.

“I don’t know how to not do this you,” Matt says, and Foggy’s angry again, because he knows just what Matt could do, and so does Matt. He just won’t do it. “I…” He wiped tears from his eyes. “I need to protect you from Fisk. I’m not even sure what difference it makes that you know, honestly; I’m not sure what you can do against him, the way he does things. But I’ll figure out something, I’ll do that much for you and Karen both, even if it's the only good thing for you I'm capable of; that’s what I do I suppose…”

“I told you the first time we had this conversation, I don’t need your fucking mask…”

“But you do, Foggy, that’s the thing!” He raises his voice; he’s still angry too. “He could kill you! I’m not going to let him kill you and that’s final! You can say it’s my fault he’s got a grudge against us in the first place, but honestly, I don’t even care at this point…”

“No,” Foggy growls, because he was about to repeat what he said about creating dangers to save people from, but that remark makes him need to say something else: “What I did alongside you against Fisk was the right thing to do, and don’t you ever think I don’t realize that. Actually, there’s a question you didn’t answer from earlier: how come Karen gets to go and takes risks and I don’t? You say it’s not because she’s already involved with you, and no, it’s not because you’d never be able to stop her either; you’ve never been daunted by a little thing such as a task being impossible…”

“Because I’d die if you were killed!” The words burst out from Matt and rip through the room to shock them both.

He’s panting, crying freely, picking at his hoodie. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

That’s it. Foggy’s done for.

He’s amazed he doesn’t hear anything break or fall down when he slams Matt into his fridge. He’s never kissed anyone like this, never felt like this, like the minute he stops trying to eat Matt alive the world will end. Except Matt’s reaction is fiercer still. Foggy’s hair is nearly being yanked out of his head, even as Matt’s hands scramble to keep hold of it, his mouth will probably be bitten bloody by the end of this. Within moments Matt even has a leg thrown over his hip, and Foggy can really feel now how threadbare his sweats are, or maybe the heat blazing through them is just that strong.

I’ve wanted him, but not like this; it shouldn’t be like this. But it’s going to be, because when Matt feels so good beneath his mouth and hands and also so clearly desperate for Foggy, Foggy can’t get himself to say no.

There’s still anger raging in him, but also there’s that urge to push Matt, to get him to do something for himself for once, because that’s always been within him for as long as he’s known him. It’s a combination of them that makes him hiss through the kisses, “Tell me what you want, Matt. Tell me what you fucking want.”

“I want…” Matt is pressing frantic kisses all over Foggy’s face, down by his ear, tracing along his neck. “I want you to fuck me. I want to feel your hands everywhere on me. I want you to demand I put my mouth wherever you want it. I want you to ravish me. I want you to leave me bruised and raw; I want you to take me until there’s nothing left. I want you to hold me down and never let me go, I want you to cover me with your sweat and semen until I never ever stop smelling of you, oh, Foggy, iwantiwantiwant…”

Foggy doesn’t know how to react to that, other than to get his hands under Matt’s hoodie, beneath which there’s nothing but skin-and bruises, all too quick he finds one of them, way too big on his upper back, and Matt moans and winces both. He would. Foggy would be exasperated if that wasn’t just the least of his martyr complex.

And yeah, that’s more of a problem, because Matt’s pulling away and saying, “No, no, Foggy, you can’t, you deserve so much better.”

“For goodness sake, Matt!” Foggy grabs his shoulders; thankfully he stays. “I have much better already, and our problems with each other are getting in the way of my relationship with her, and did you know she told me she’d rather I’d fuck you separately so I didn’t have to think too much about you when I’m with her!”

“Yeah, she said something similar to me too, but that’s not what I meant and you know it,” Matt hisses at him. “Do you really think I can just let you do this to yourself?!” There’s too much anger and pain in his voice; part of Foggy wants to forget all the rest and just hug him.

But the rest of him all’s for blowing up one last time, yelling, “Have you not been listening to a single word I’ve said tonight, Murdock?! I’m always going to be tied up with you whether either of us like it or not, and this may be the most idiotic reckless thing I’ve ever done, but I still want to do it, and will you please,” he presses a hard kiss to Matt’s face, “just,” another, “let,” another, “me?” A last one. “You always made the decisions for us, and they’ve usually been stupid ones, so can’t you let me have a goddamn turn?”

A pause, and then, softly, “Do it, then,” before Matt is kissing him again, and pushing at his shoulders as if he wants him on the floor.

Which, no. “Up, Murdock,” Foggy hisses to him, pulling him up. “Not going to aggravate whatever injuries you no doubt have with the aid of that surface. We’re doing this in your bed.”

Matt lets himself be led, or rather, yanked, across his apartment until they’re in the bedroom. Their fingers fumble with clothes; they hit the bed with Foggy’s pants still mostly on and Matt’s hoodie still hanging off one arm, though it comes off and leaves him naked when he shakes it. That’s more than Foggy can reasonably be expected to ignore just to get a stupid pair of pants off, especially when Matt just said he wants his hands on him.

It’s painful to see the bruises, the scrapes and cuts, the scars upon scars. Seeing them makes Foggy the one of them that wants to hit someone. But even so, it may take a while for the thrill of finally touching Matt’s skin to wear off. Matt’s reaction to it isn’t exactly encouraging it to leave anytime soon. Hands on that ridiculous six pack leave him panting. Fingers lightly stroking down towards his stomach make him moan. Loud. Foggy swears just his breath on Matt’s neck is making the other man shiver.

Also, when Matt’s dick is already up and swollen, Foggy can only keep from touching that for so long, getting that heat into his grip. Matt’s reaction is bordering on violent, hips lurching so enthusiastically he nearly knocks himself into the headboard. “How close are you?” Foggy asks; Matt only moans in response, but he gets his answer when barely seconds later he’s gasping and coming.

Foggy’s left to try to take in everything about this moment, from the sight of his flushed and battered body arching on his silk sheets to the sound of the air rushing him and out of him, even the smell of him, overpowering when Foggy pays attention to it, the semen mixing with the smell of his sweat and a little bit of his blood-once he started paying attention, Foggy got to know that smell really quickly. He can’t taste anything in the air, and he can’t actually hear Matt’s blood rushing in his veins, but when he listens closer he can hear as well as see his body shifting about and the tiny grunts coming from him, ones that sound as hungry as if he isn’t in the process of having an orgasm.

When it’s done, and he’s left limp on the bed, Foggy’s first impulse is honestly to just jerk himself off and let Matt lay there and rest, because he looks about ready to pass out. But his hand has barely touched his own dick before Matt’s up again, somehow finding the strength to push Foggy down with a, “Oh no, you don’t; I’ve wanted this for too long.”

“You need to rest,” Foggy protests, even as his body threatens to rise up without his permission, eager to be touched.

“You don’t get to tell me what I need and don’t need to do right now,” Matt growls, and there’s some roughness with the way his mouth lands on Foggy’s body, teeth grazing skin and leaving it burning, Foggy burning, impossibly hard and wanting to cry again. “I’ve thought too much about it. Tried to get every taste of you I can glean.” Tiny bites on his nipples; Foggy can’t keep silent, can’t even say anything coherent. “You’re so soft,” Matt murmurs, and he sounds almost stricken, before his mouth and tongue are lavishing attention on Foggy’s belly, and Foggy’s sure there’s something Matt said there he should object to, but it’s hard to remember what.

He finally does, though, when Matt pulls up and says, “That smell. I know that smell. That taste…the first time Karen let you come in her mouth, when I saw her again the next day I couldn’t stop kissing her-I think that’s what first got her suspicious, honestly.”

He has to object to that. He forces himself to inch back, which gets Matt to freeze in place, and he looks so scared and upset Foggy nearly decides to let it go after all, but no, he has to say this, “Matt, I’m willing to overlook the whole stalking thing, but please don’t act like it was a romantic thing for you to do.”

“I was not stalking you!” Matt snaps, though he sounds almost as anxious as he does angry. “I admit I did keep track of you a little before Karen and I reconciled, but once she could give me news of you, my only sources of it were her and the occasional professional news that came my way. I backed off, and you have no idea how much it killed me to do that!”

“I’m not even going to touch that-” And he wouldn’t have had the chance anyway, because Matt is kissing him again, pulling him down on top of him, his dick already starting to stir again, which makes Foggy’s ache.

“Please…” is all that comes from Matt’s mouth when they part, and Foggy reaches out to the bedside table-and it probably says something, even if he’s not sure what, that he can get his hand on a drawer knob and pull it open without looking-and watches Matt shudder when he hears the drawer open and his hand curl around a condom. “Lube’s in the….the next drawer.”

He’s surprisingly quiet when Foggy starts getting fingers into him, trying not to go too fast, but aware if he takes too long Matt might demand Foggy fuck him without fully preparing him first, and that’s another thing he’s not having happen. He keeps his legs spread as he leans back into the pillows, breathing harsh, arms twitching at his sides, erection swelling until he’s back to full hardness. There’s something about it that makes Foggy feel like breaking apart.

When he’s finally pushing in, Foggy’s also struggling not to come, and the initial Ahhh that comes out of Matt doesn’t help. He should go slow, he tells himself; Matt almost certainly hasn’t done this in ages and ages. But Matt’s continuing to make the most erotic noises imaginable, and he’s pushing back, and then he gasps, “Oh Jesus, I want this so much.”

It’s a reminder of things Foggy wants to forget about right now, but he can’t, and he shoves forward, the anger still in him maybe the only thing that keeps him from coming when he hears Matt’s crazed whimper. “Take it, then,” he hisses. He pins Matt down with his hands, nearly bends his body in half as he hooks his legs over his shoulders, and thrusts hard as he can, harder than he’d ever dare do to Karen. “Fucking…for once in your fucking life…”

And Matt…Matt just throws his head back and keeps on making those noises, more tears coming from his eyes now, which just makes Foggy want to fuck him even harder. Then he’s gasping out, “Fog…Fog…” and shit, Foggy never knew how badly he wanted to hear that, Matt Murdock trying to moan his name and not even being able to because he was that undone.

Neither of them can last long. He somehow manages to keep from coming before Matt goes over for the second time that night, crying out like the world’s ending; Foggy can feel him shivering with even through his limbs. He’s gone then, groaning and nearly whiting out with the intensity of it.

Matt’s still crying, but Foggy finds as he comes down that he’s still angry. Not as much; it’s simmered down, but enough. “Well, you got what you want then,” he says, though he can’t bring himself to say it that harshly.

But Matt shakes his head, and there’s a touch of anger in his voice too as he whispers, “No, Foggy. You should know better.”

“How am I supposed to?!” He’d be fully blowing up again, he thinks, if he still had the energy. “You just…you send Karen to fuck me instead of coming yourself just so you can get a cheap thrill-”

“I did not,” and Matt’s voice increases in volume just enough to cut. “I know what you think, but you’re wrong on that one; when I gave that permission, it really was because I knew I shouldn’t be depriving you two of each other. I didn’t do it to smell you on her.” But the hardness rushes out of his voice, and then he adds, “Not back then.”

“Then what did happen?” Foggy asks. He wants to believe Matt; maybe if he hears more, of which there obviously is, he will. “Because you have been getting one.” As has Foggy, of course, but…well, Matt started it.

“I…” Matt wipes tears away and turns onto his back, but the way he positions himself…Foggy’s been in a confessional, and he’s not sure what it is about Matt’s posture that reminds him of it, but it somehow does. “Sometimes, at night, when I know Karen’s working late or somewhere else, or lately, with you, I’ll go over to her apartment. She’s known about it; she gave me a key and told me to stay away from her bed.” That much makes sense; Karen keeps complete control on the traffic of her own bed, and Foggy can count the number of times he’s been on it himself on one hand. He decides not to probe at this moment the full meaning of “she’s known.” “It’s just…there are nights, where after I do what I do, it makes me feel better to just sit there, where she’s been.

And the night after your first date, well, she told me you two were going on a second one. We’d only been in touch on the phone that day; I actually thought at the time you hadn’t even slept together yet, that you’d do that after the second date rather than on the first. And that night, on the streets, I…” He squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes his head, then continues, “So I went there, thinking it would be empty.”

“We cut it off early that night.” He might know this already; Karen might have told him, but Foggy gives the explanation anyway. “My biomom called, and I didn’t want to make Karen have to deal with her on only the second date, so…”

He nods slightly, but something flickers on his face, making Foggy think he didn't know that, before he goes on: “She came in a few minutes after me. I’d borrowed her shower. I…kind of needed it. For the record, going between her bathroom and her living room were the only moments I even set foot in her bedroom that night, but when we were in the living room together, and I’d put the suit back on but hadn’t bothered with the mask, and her heart was so loud, and she smelled so good, and even across the room I could feel her warmth, and I just needed….

I basically got down on my knees and begged her to let me go down on her. She couldn’t have done anything for me anyway; too much exhaustion and blood loss for that. But I needed to feel…just something towards someone else besides rage, wanted to do something with someone that wasn’t…to-to know there was still something in me besides that, that…that I was still human. Maybe just to kneel to her like the angel she is-she might not be what I once thought she was, but she’s still the other kind, the kind that wields the flaming sword…” Foggy can hear the love in his voice, and that’s one emotion they’ll keep in common, at least. Also the guilt, which, that too, but probably worse for Matt, simply because he’s Matt. “So there I was, begging her to let me do less than holy things to her with my mouth…but even then, I thought…I could tell you’d had sex the previous night, of course, but that it had been twenty-four hours and I knew you’d have used condoms, so I honestly didn’t think I’d taste anything.

But I did. I should’ve known, maybe; the taste…if can get pretty thick in the air after you jerk off, so of course I knew yours pretty well, and I just…it was you, and I’d missed you so badly, and I hadn’t even realized how much I’d wanted…” He’s crying again. “I love you so much, Foggy….and it hurts, it hurts so badly…and I know I’ve caused you an equal amount of pain, know I deserve it, know it’s right…but just because you know something’s right doesn’t mean you have it in you to handle it…I can’t….I don’t want to do this anymore…I don’t know if I….please, Foggy, please….I can’t even…Foggy…pleasedontgo…” He’s coming undone completely now; he hasn’t stopped crying completely since they finished, but now he’s blubbering with it, and Foggy simply cannot do anything in the world besides rolling Matt into his arms and holding him tight.

He’s not sure when they dropped off. He wakes up to the sound of the door of the apartment opening, and the feeling of Matt shifting off him and pulling himself up into a sitting position. “Karen,” he whispers. Foggy glances over at the nightstand, and taps the clock. “2:21 A.M.” it announces, and also obviously makes Karen aware there’s someone awake in the bedroom.

“Her heart’s really accelerating,” Matt whispers. “She’s terrified, I think.” It’s pretty easy to guess why, too, especially since Foggy’s sat up too, so she might even be able to hear that there are two bodies in the bed. She might have expected that anyway, expected this outcome from Foggy’s coming here.

They hear her shuffling around the entrance, probably hanging her purse up. Then footsteps, and there she is, the woman unfortunate enough to be in love with the both of them, holding her breath with the thought that they might now turn her away, even though Foggy’s pretty sure even Matt would never be *that* much of an idiot.

He silently beckons; Matt does the same. She’s slightly unsteady on her feet, and Foggy doesn’t think that’s just because she’s tired, though it might be partly. She slides onto the bed with her legs folded under her, and Matt takes hold of her and gives her a quick, hard kiss. There’s a split second where she’s looking at Foggy anxiously, and then he’s hastily kissing her too. When they part, he keeps his forehead pressed to hers, and when Matt bends forward, they budge just enough to let him in. There the three of them sit, together for the first time since that day on the courthouse steps, just breathing each other in. Foggy feels complete, in a way he’s maybe never felt his entire life.

Then, softly, one of them asks, “Well, what now?”