Not Quite Counting Sheep

BY : Oversoul159
Category: Marvel Verse TV > no category yet
Dragon prints: 2189
Disclaimer: I don't own Daredevil or make any money off of these fics.


This was initially supposed to be one chapter but it was taking longer than I'd like. Also, FYI, this work is much tamer than most of my stories but still kinda fun.

Reviews are always loved!


Matt was aware of Foggy’s attraction to him from the moment that they met.


The way he stuttered and his outright mentioning of Matt’s supposed attractiveness may have had something to do with that. There’s also the way his temperature spiked and his heart skipped one beat and then another.


And that was... well, not fine, but tolerable.


Matt’s spent a large part of his life ignoring all of the things he “shouldn’t” know about, no matter how obvious.


But then they became friends. Friends that knew each other almost as well as family. Friends that had inside jokes. Friends that teased each other and knew all the right comfort foods for any given crises.


Friends that pretended that one wasn’t sort of crushing on the other.



What happened next started off innocuously enough.


Matt woke one Wednesday evening (morning? Somewhere in between) in the middle of March to the sound of Foggy’s heartbeat spiking sharply. He went completely still, taking stock of his roommate’s heart rate and breathing rate. To his relief, it quickly became clear that the man was still sleeping.


Having quite a… pleasant dream at that.


They were both adults and it wasn’t as if Matt hadn’t had wet dreams himself. Matt rolled over and onto his side facing Foggy and closed his eyes again, all set to try to get back to sleep.


“Yes... Matt,” Foggy whispered breathily.


Which, okay, was kind of awkward.


Matt closed his eyes a little tighter and bit into his lower lip hard to keep from saying anything or worse, waking Foggy up, and told himself to ignore it. But then Foggy gasped sharply and his heart rate began to decline rapidly, a clear sign of waking up and calming down. Behind his eyelids, Matt could see Foggy, as much as he could “see” anything, as he sat up and shifted uncomfortably, glancing in Matt’s direction.


“Jesus. Well, that’s not fair,” Foggy muttered softly. He shifted slightly in his bed, one of his hands reaching down under the sheets. There was some rustling and then Foggy’s arm was jerking up and down quickly, no doubt going to work trying to relieve some of his frustration. “How are your lips always so red? God, I’d love to just…” he whispered, his voice quiet enough that even as close as Matt was lying, it wouldn’t have been audible without his special hearing.


Which really was not a great thing right now.


Matt felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, he had absolutely no desire to “wake up” and have to deal with the awkwardness of having heard Foggy jerking off when he could just ignore it. On the other hand, it was just as awkward (at least for him) to lie there and listen to Foggy wax poetic about all the ways that Matt, with “those fucking luscious red lips,” could make his dick feel amazing if he ever had the chance to bring the two together.


Thankfully, Foggy made the decision for him. He grunted softly, hips lifting up off the bed as he fucked into his fisted palm. Thirty seconds later, the scent of fresh semen with a hint of… coffee (Foggy really needed to dial back) began to fill to room. Foggy let out a breathy sigh and lowered himself back down onto the bed, letting the back of his head thump softly against the headboard.


“What the hell is wrong with you, Foggy,” Foggy muttered to himself, sounding just as alarmed as Matt felt.


Though that didn’t stop that exact same scene from playing out twice more during the course of that week.




Matt fumbled with the door until he got it open and tumbled into the room, only barely making it to his bed in time to not be hit in the face with the wood flooring when he flopped down.


Foggy snorted from where he sat on his own bed, taking notes. “Long day?”


Matt grumbled into his sheets for a moment before turning his head to face his roommate. “Remember that paper I was working on for Professor Michelin’s midterm?”


“The one you just spent the last thirty-nine hours on straight because the asshole only managed to get you the actual textbook, which you need to site from, at the last minute? I may have some memory of that, yes.”


“It was outdated. Very outdated. And he tells me this as I’m turning the report in. But sweet Professor Michelin, in all of his abundant generosity, has graciously agreed to allow me a week’s extension in exchange for not bringing his ass in front of the Council, again, for his bullshit.”


Foggy closed his textbook and came over to sit on Matt’s bed, lightly stroking his hair as if he were the world’s largest house cat. “Is it bad that I kind of want to laugh right now?” he asked, breathing hard with the clear effort to keep it in.


Matt growled and batted lightly at Foggy’s leg, too exhausted to put any real strength into it. Which only served to make Foggy shake harder in his silent laughter. He was still petting Matt’s head though, so half forgiven.


“Just… wake me up in August, okay?”


“Sure thing, buddy.”




Several hours later, somehow still in March, Matt woke to the sensation of something wet and firm rubbing against his lips. His brain still foggy from sleep and really just too tired to think any more on top of that, he didn’t realize what was happening until he heard Foggy say, “God, he’s really out, isn’t he?” from surprisingly close by. At which point his brain helpfully registered the scent in his nose as musk and precum.


Matt gasped softly, more from the shock than anything else, and Foggy seemed to take that as a sign to push a little further.




Foggy’s cock, the head thick enough to work Matt’s jaw open almost painfully wide in his complacency, worked its way in, leaking copious amounts of precum onto Matt’s tongue all the while.


If “waking up” in the middle of your roommate jerking off to thoughts of you was considered awkward, he couldn’t imagine a word in the English language that could describe what this would be called if Foggy realized he was awake.


Matt remained still, too alarmed to actually move, as Foggy worked his cock slowly back and forth in Matt’s mouth, never actually removing it from his lips. Matt found himself having to swallow rapidly to keep from choking on or drowning in the sheer volume of liquid that Foggy was leaking into his mouth.


Foggy traced a finger over Matt’s lips, pushing his thumb inside beside the fat dick that was stretching Matt’s lips open so wide. “Yes. Fuck, I knew you’d be perfect. Just feel so fucking good, buddy. Wish I could do this all the time.”


Matt swallowed down a whine of alarm along with more of Foggy’s fluids.


Matt spent a jaw aching fifteen minutes taking Foggy’s dick, forcing the rest of his body to remain carefully limp as his best friend bobbed his head up and down along the thick shaft, taking great care to make sure he didn’t shove that dick right down his throat.


Though Matt was well aware that Foggy wanted to. Mostly because he’d said as much, several times. Whispering, “God, I just want to bury my dick in that fucking throat. I’d bet it’d be so tight. Well, with lips like those, maybe you don’t even have a gag reflex. I wonder if that’s where he gets off to sometimes. Bet Michelin’s being so hard on him ‘cause he’s hoping for a chance to get these lips around his cock…”


That wasn’t something Matt was ever going to be able to unhear.


Foggy leaned back against the headboard, his thrusts beginning to become harder, faster. He was kind enough to turn Matt’s head to one side so that his fat cock head was hammering against the inside of Matt’s cheek instead of against the back of his throat. “Fuck, I’m gonna–,” he barely managed to get out before he was shooting his load, thick and heavy, into Matt’s mouth. Foggy jerked his cock out with a pop after the first spurt, allowing the rest of his load to coat Matt’s face and hair as he panted. He let Matt’s head fall to gently rest on his hip as he squeezed those last few drops of his load onto Matt’s tongue, his jaw half stuck in that open position from being there too long.


Foggy paused for a moment then ran his fingers through Matt’s hair, working his jizm into the dark locks. Finally, he slowly got up and went over the small sink that their room had, wetting up a small washcloth to wipe Matt down with.


Matt was able to get back to sleep pretty easily after that (that little trial was enough to tire him out even if hadn’t still been trying to work off a thirty-nine hour cram session). It was a little harder to continue pretending everything was still okay when he spent the next three days (and every three days after that) feeling a phantom twinge in his jaw whenever he spoke.

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