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At first, Claire can't tell what's wrong with him; it's only when she pushes off his cowl and he arches into her touch that she notices his flush, his rapid breathing, and the way his pulse leaps under her fingertips.
"Did you go out with a fever like this?" she asked, and Matt gave her a blinding (oops: she was still trying to work those words out of her vocabulary) grin.
"A fever...for justice!" he said, and burst into...giggles?
"Oh no," Claire sighed. "What did you - shit, what did you take, Matt?"
He tilted towards her, leaning in; she was never going to get over how heavy he was for such a little guy. "No, no, see, Claire, here's the thing -" and he reached out to kiss her.
She knew better, she really did, but - but what could it hurt, honestly? Matt was so warm, and his skin was warm but not hot or dry to the touch, and he could kiss like no one's business - gentle, so gentle that it hurt to think about, sometimes, especially when she considered how lethal he could be in a fight. Claire could honestly say that yes, it was Matt's insane determination that had caught her attention, but the his body was unbelievable, muscle everywhere, skin fucking silky for a guy who spent as much time getting beaten up as he did, and his mouth was a gift; she'd never known anyone quite so - detail-oriented - as Matt. This time was no different: he came in soft, waiting, smiling against her mouth, and she gave in. Caught his lip between her teeth.
"See?" Matt said, when they pulled apart; his eyes, as always, were unfocused, but there was something triumphant in his expression. "Makes sense, right?"
"Yeah, Matt," she said, absently, already thinking well, he's clearly too high to know what he got hit with, and damnit, there's that night of sleep, and it's a shame he's roofied because as long as I'm staying awake babysitting all night I could use a couple orgasms. E? Hopefully not E; the crash was always bad, especially if you weren't used to it.
Her mouth started to tingle.
Clearly it'd been way too long, if one little kiss could get her going like this.
"I need new friends," she said, and Matt nodded.
"You and Karen should be friends," he said. "Foggy! Oh! You'd love him."
"I bet I would," she said. His shirt was soaked through, and it'd rucked up, exposing his fucking ridiculous abs. She rubbed her mouth. It still felt sensitive; she wanted to bite her own lip, she wanted Matt to bite her lip for her, she wanted him to put his hands in her hair and pull. She wanted to put her hands in his hair and pull; he went down so pretty when she got a hold on him.
This was no good.
"I love him," Matt said, and he sounded both - honest, a little terrifyingly so, and smugly pleased. "You can't have him, but you'd love him, women do, Marci said he gave the best head she'd ever gotten -"
"Matt," she said, "I think you're telling me somebody else's secrets," because that was the sort of thing that tended to work best.
"Oh," he said. And stretched. Claire's breath caught. He closed his eyes and smiled, close-mouthed, ridiculously, ridiculously pretty, and - oh great, she thought. Yeah. He was hard, and she wanted -
"I like the way you breathe when you're turned on," he said, calm, conversational, still smiling. "I like knowing that looking at me makes you think about sex. Your shirt makes a different sound rubbing across your nipples when they're hard; it must feel amazing, I think." Claire closed her eyes (to shut out that temptation) and swallowed, hard: she was not thinking about how he was right, she wasn't thinking about Matt's big hands and sharp teeth on her nipples, because. She had to swallow again. Because Matt didn't talk like this sober. She clenched, once, hard, around nothing at all, just to - just to remind herself that nothing was going to happen, and Matt laughed. Happy. He sounded so fucking happy.
"Heard that," he said. "Ah. I could hear it when you squeezed around me, too, y'know. That was really good; we should do that again."
Claire licked her lips, trying to force her breathing back to - some semblance of normal, and tasted something spicy. She felt a little dizzy. She shifted her hips, because she was wet and absurdly sensitive already, no reason, just that was enough to hit her hard, and Matt grinned like he'd won the lottery.
"Yeah," he said.
"No," she said, evenly - oh, fuck's sake, who was she kidding: it did not come out even.
Matt shuddered, arching just a little. His nipples were hard, and what kind of - what kind of crime-fighting costume let you see if a man's nipples were hard?
This was bad, she thought, but it was hard to focus when she knew that at this point, as worked up as he was, she could slide the shirt up over his head and rake her nails down his chest and ribs, and if she did that just right he might come from that, or if she was feeling mean she might scratch him up until he was whining and sling her leg over his face and stay there for one or two grinding orgasms, or -
"Fuck," she said. "Um. OK. Yeah. No. Matt," and he turned toward her like a flower to the sun, a hot flush up on his cheekbones, "I changed my mind, I think we should call your friend Foggy, okay?"
"Yeah," he said, dreamily. "Foggy should definitely be here."
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The man on the other end of the line burst into bright, uncomplicated laughter; Matt grinned and thrust harder. Claire bit her own lip hard, because he was gorgeous, and so she was breathless and stinging when Foggy, apparently, said to someone else:
"OK, apparently Matt is having a sex emergency at Nurse Claire's place, this is amazing, this is the day I'm going to celebrate all of my birthdays from here on out, I'm never letting him live this down -"
and Claire heard a woman's voice, younger, laughing, who also sounded drunk and faint: "...what is even a sex emergency?"
"I don't even know, c'mon, let's go pick him up and put him to bed - hey, nurse? Claire? We'll come get him, don't worry - whoah," and he stopped, suddenly. "Are you okay?"
At which point Claire realized that she'd been panting, breathless and happy, into the phone, and she might have - a little bit - started moaning with it, just because it felt good to make noise, and it felt good to tip her head back, and it felt good to get one leg up - oh! that change in the angle was perfect, fuck - over Matt's shoulder and claw at his back: she felt herself slick against his cock, he had the best - prettiest - "Harder," she said, and Matt laughed breathlessly.
"Hurry up, Foggy," he said, " - oh! and Karen, I - doesn't she sound amazing? but when you smell her it's going to - to - Foggy, she sounds so good but I miss hearing your sex noises, I forgot about that until tonight, you should - you should hurry up" - putting his weight into the last stroke and snapping his hips with the kind of twist that made Claire's toes curl.
"Matt," the phone said, sharp and concerned, which was ridiculous, really, and Claire would've told him not to worry, she was a medical professional, but she was busy pulling Matt down and biting at his neck because if she did that he'd whine and - oh! his hips stuttered, and that was really good, so she did it again - and then if she pulled his hair he yowled and shoved hard enough to slide them both across the bed, and the blanket rubbing against her bare shoulders was just enough to tip her over for the second time -
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"We have to drink water," Claire said, and Matt made a grunting, snuffling sort of noise of agreement. He was lying facedown on the floor in the living room, which really just highlighted his - that fucking ass, Claire thought, it was unreal, she wanted everything. Didn't think she could focus long enough to actually get a strap on, because she was just. She was really warm and really tingly, and it was hard to stick to a plan -
-water, right, but -
"Could I fuck you, you think?" she asked, getting a glass from the cupboard. She drank one straight off, gulping noisily; some of it spilled and trickled down her throat. She shuddered, and then, because asking seemed to relieve some of the tipsy pressure in her head. "I have a strap on, and it seems fair - you've been doing most of the work -"
Matt groaned with real delight, and his back arched and ass went up in the air; oh. "Yeah," he said, eyes closed, lashes dark in the dim light from the lamp, "you could, but - ah - but Foggy and Karen are a couple blocks away, they have to pay the taxi driver and then - and then, if it's all the same to you, I want." He sighed; she walked into the living room and he pushed himself to his knees. Didn't bother opening his eyes; she could see how flushed he was, that his eyelashes were damp. "I want the real thing," he said. Leaned into her, hard, and Claire would never experience anything like Matt did, but the musky sweating heat of him hit her like she hadn't already gotten hers three times over already.
right, she thought, and slapped his cheek, lightly; his head rolled back to her open palm. "Drink water," she said. When she put the glass to his mouth he opened up like she was a locksmith, and drank the whole thing down without stopping. The muscles in his throat worked rhythmically; she couldn't remember wanting this much without any pain attached in years. Everything felt hyper-real and dreamy at the same time, it was -
Whatever this is, she thought, this is not -
- but Matt was talking, rubbing his cheek into her open hand; she couldn't help petting him, just a little; his cheekbone was hard and his skin was soft under her thumb. "I meant it," he said, still smiling, "you should let Foggy eat you out, I just want - someone in me - oh, but then Karen will be lonely -"
"I think I can handle that," Claire said.
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She opened the door - oh good, Matt's friends, Matt's friends were pretty - and the leggy blonde in the ridiculous dress, who must've been Karen, went bright red.
"Oh god," Nelson - Foggy - said. He blushed too; mm, she thought. Wait, was she -? No, she'd grabbed a towel, at least, but -
"Finally," Matt said, cheerfully, right behind her, "you took forever to get here, don't think I didn't hear you talking downstairs -"
"Whoa," Foggy said. Karen whirled around and burst into tipsy giggles, covering her face with her hands; oh! Matt hadn't bothered to get a towel. Well. That was fine, he was really - Claire didn't mind saying that he was distracting: she'd only seen a few really pretty cocks, and Matt had one of them. "Buddy," Foggy said, carefully looking straight between her shoulder and Matt's shoulder, which was adorable, really, and totally not necessary, but then, he probably didn't get it yet: "you feeling okay?"
"Yes," he said, and Claire had to agree; she felt better than she had in about two months, exactly the warm and sleepy feeling she got after a solid twelve hours. "Yes," she agreed, and she and Matt wound up grinning at each other.
"Oh my god," Karen said, faintly, from where she still stood in the hallway with her back to the door like she'd never seen a naked man before.
"Come in, don't stand in the hallway, it's cold," Claire said. Matt wandered back into the living room, fingers drifting against the wall, to fling himself over her couch. Foggy was broad across the shoulders and soft in the middle, not at all like Matt, and she wanted to see him naked; she bet he could pick her up and put her against the wall. (She and Matt had tried it once, and his bony hips had made it a pain; it was no good. Sometimes she didn't want the kind of savage body that Matt needed in his hard world.)
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"Are you." Foggy squinted at Matt; serious and worried, and Claire felt, abruptly, not so good; it reminded her too much of the last time she'd seen him, furious and heartbroken when Matt lay bleeding all over his apartment. That wasn't good, that wasn't right - he shouldn't be suspicious or sad, none of them should be - "It's hard to explain," she said, catching him by the wrist and dropping her towel, because it was warm and the air felt good on her skin, and Matt trusted Foggy so absolutely, Claire knew it would be okay. "It's easier to show you, honestly."
"I had a nightmare like this once," Karen said, still sounding high, tipsy, more than a little giggly. The nudity was enough to get her to close the door, and she and Foggy and Matt were all on the right side of it: good.
"Matt, what is - yeah," Foggy agreed, and his eyes only dipped to Claire's breasts once. "This is actually a sex emergency,, isn't it, I am unprepared, I can't handle - he waved vaguely in Claire's general direction - "all that, that - this is not my life, this is your life, I hate your life."
"I don't," Matt said. "It is really good right now. Karen, come over here, though, this is important:"
"I didn't ask you over here to sit around and complain," Claire said, and smiled to take the sting out of the words, because: well. Foggy looked like he had when Matt had been hurt, and that was all wrong, nobody was hurt, it was fine, it was good.
"Matt, I'm really having trouble talking to you with your - I mean, where are your pants - I mean, that looks - uncomfortable. wait. What's that smell?" Karen asked, from further into the living room.
"You can smell it!" Matt said, sounding utterly delighted. "Nobody ever smells anything!"
Claire took the distraction as an opportunity, and pressed her luck - and herself - up again Foggy, kissed him hard, trying to get his attention. He froze, probably in surprise, and - she felt a little bad, but this was important, it was important to convince him that they were safe, and warm, and this time no one was dying, no one was bleeding. (It was also important to get the measure of him, to reassure herself that yes, he was taller than her, and soft, and - and yes, interested, good, she couldn't help rubbing up against him a little, just - just noticing.) "Don't worry so much," she said, looking him straight in the eye, after she pulled away. "Stay and help."
"Oh my god," he said. "You are both so high."
"Don't - Foggy, don't leave," Matt said, and for the first time that night he sounded - distressed.
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"Why," Foggy asked Claire, sounding worried, "do I want to lick your nipples this much?"
"I know, right?" Karen said dreamily, lifting her head from where she'd been sucking Matt's cock; it stood up stiff and shiny. Matt squirmed and made a noise. She grinned and drew her fingers up along the length: he shuddered. "You have the prettiest nipples, Claire, I'm jealous," she said, honestly, meeting Claire's eyes, and that was enough to send a little thrill down her spine.
"Your waist-to-hip ratio is incredible," Claire said, "and I kind of want to eat you out right now because I'm a little sore, but I get it, you take your time -"
"Oh no, why are you high too," Foggy said. "I cannot be the only responsible adult here, this is not -"
"Stop talking," Karen said, cheerful and bossy, "and come help me?"
Foggy closed his eyes, deliberate and careful, but Claire could see the way he was affected. Duh.
"That'd be - okay," Matt choked.
"Karen, tomorrow we're going to have a long talk about how quickly you went over the dark side," he said, but his voice had gone a little deeper. Claire took a wild guess and leaned against him; his arms came up automatically to support her, so when she jumped up he made a litle oof noise and nosed at the line of her jaw, but he caught her well enough. God. Matt had the best friends.
"You're so full of it," Karen said, and her eyes were sparkling. "C'mon, Foggy," and she leaned down and from this angle, slightly higher up, Claire could watch as she licked, soft and precise and teasing, sweet and mean, at the very tip of Matt's dick: oh. She squeezed her thighs around Foggy's waist, just a little: oh, Karen was gorgeous, pink tongue and long lashes.
"I. What." Foggy said.
"Your heart," Matt said, after he'd finished hitting the couch with a fist and making those kind of open-mouthed oh oh oh noises that happened when you caught him on the edge. He was laughing, gasping, he looked half-wrecked and happier than Claire had seen in him in a long time. "Oh man, you should hear it, Foggy, it - oh - Karen don't stop -"
And strangely enough Foggy looked to Claire - the way he had the first time she'd shown up to find another human being in Matt's space, another person who cared if he was dead or not - and this time, oh, this time, everything was good, his hands were very warm on her body. This time, she was so glad, this time she could kiss him hard - he followed her when she drew back, and his eyes were big and dark. This time, instead of flatly ignoring his questions, she could grin and say "it's fine, it's good, it's good, right? you should fuck him, he said he wanted you to fuck him."
"How many times do we actually get a fucking win?" Karen asked. "oh - oh, Matt how are you so pretty - "c'mon, take the win."
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"This is insane," Foggy said, but he sounded hungry; he'd shucked off his dress shirt and undershirt and stood over Matt, at Karen's side.
"Ten thousand years later, there you are," Karen said.
The first time they bonked heads, and everyone wound up giggling like lunatics.
"Bed," Karen demanded.
Matt gripped her hand, hanging on like she was the thing keeping him from falling over a cliff, and the muscles in his forearms worked. Claire understood the feeling: she wanted - oh, she wanted Karen to talk to her forever. His head was in her lap.
Their blonde hair tangled together, they were so close, and Foggy's big hands held Matt down by the hips - "not like I could really hold you if you wanted out," he'd said, and Matt had jerked like a fish on a hook and groaned laughing; that's when Claire had grabbed him, because he looked so much like he needed something to hold on to.
Matt had sunk teeth into his lip, and he was sweating hard, now: Karen pulled off to wink at Claire. Foggy made a vibrating, questioning sort of noise, but Karen caught him by the hair and held him down.
Claire was rubbing herself with one hand, restless and uneven to keep herself on the edge longer, because as it turned out, Karen liked to make it last a long, long, time. It seemed fair, to let Matt know that everyone was waiting on how long he could hold out.
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"Oh oh oh," Matt said, hips moving with that smooth machine rhythm, and he was grinning like he'd won something, saying "missed you missed you missed you" on every stroke, and Foggy got one hand up to interlace their fingers, holding on tight, said "you got me though, it's good, bud, it's all good," and Karen was staring with wide, brilliant eyes, and Claire -
Claire caught her by the hand, turned her body away from the two of them, and said "C'mon, let me show you what I've got, you're gonna love it."
She came in for a kiss, all sweet honey; Karen kissed with her eyes closed, and came out of it like she was waking up from a dream. Her tongue was ridiculously pink when she touched her lips, and Claire felt - good, and loose, and thought she wanted to sit in someone's lap and kiss a lot for a while.
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Karen did, in fact, turn out to be the kind of vicious tease who'd use her tongue so lightly that Claire wanted to howl; she gulped air instead. And then Karen ran her fingernails down Claire's thighs, hard enough to sting: blood rushed to her cunt, she was swollen, ripe as a peach, so ready for it, so so ready for it --
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Karen lay on the floor next to Matt, watching her fingers pumping in and out with a sleepy, serious focus: Claire could see sweat at his hairline.
"I have a," Claire broke into a yawn as surprising and pleasant as Foggy's big hands had turned out to be, curving her free hand in the air in the universal "jacking off" motion. "If your hand's getting cramped."
"A little," she said; her hair fell like a sheaf of wheat over one shoulder, her eyes slitted in tactile pleasure. "You're so tight, Matt."
He made a noise in his throat. She poured more lube into her palm and tipped her hand to let it slide down her three fingers; she was already sticky and glistening to the wrist. "More?" she asked, soft: she was such a pretty white girl.
"We all agree that this is Matt's fault, right?" Foggy asked, from behind Claire. One hand fit into her like a key to her locks, two fingers in her cunt, one neat in her asshole, while his thumb stroked smooth and even at her clit, like he was petting a cat or rubbing a piece of good velvet. It felt - mm, just enough to keep her grounded, like he was carving out enough space in her body for good things to grow.
"It should be Matt's fault all the time," Karen said; she was the most Siamese-cat-shaped person Claire had ever seen.
"I toldnot - oh! - an alien, Foggy."
"But how would you know?" he asked, and this had the rhythm of an argument they'd had before; it took up space in the room like an old blanket or couch; broken-in, well-loved, well-used.
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"Wait, what did you mean, my sex noises, were you listening in?"
"Oh -" and here Matt yawned, "that was college, every time you brought a girl over, but - you got so mad about the heartbeats. And that's baby stuff; I can go way deeper."
The three of them started giggling, and - and Foggy was laughing and twisting his fingers, lazy and steady, inside her. "C'mon, Claire," he said, "don't be gloomy, that was funny."
"You are all five-year-olds, that wasn't -" she started, smiling in spite of herself, but Karen burst in with a surprised, excited noise:
"Oh! --I got four in, now -"
and Matt made a noise that started out deep and ended high and panting for a minute. "...do that again," he managed. For a minute, Claire felt left out, and oddly cold, but Foggy leaned up against her. He bit her shoulder, friendly, trying to get her attention: "I can keep doing this and talk you through it," he said, happily, "I used to do it all the time for Matt? Unless you wanna move."
"No," she said, "no, you - you talk me through it," because suddenly it had turned into a game, and Matt was making some truly pornographic noises behind her, and it had become important to hear how Foggy described them.
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For the first time that night, Claire felt close to mad, because Matt always wanted to do whatever went most against sound medical advice. Karen and Foggy had listened to her: they were in a pile on her bed, where everyone could keep an eye on everyone else in case something went weird while they napped. Plus - who knew what this was, but if it was anything like ecstasy, the crash would be hitting in a few hours, and touching people helped.
But Matt, of course, was sitting on the edge of the bed, twisting a corner of her duvet nervously.
"Nah, I'd - I can take the couch," he said. "I don't - want to make anything - it would be weird."
"Yeah, the cuddling, that's what would make it weird," Karen said, half-asleep already.
"Go get him," Claire said, poking Foggy. He yelped in mock distress.
"Why me? Matt, cut it out, don't make me drag you back here, that's gonna be embarrassing for everybody -"
"Shhhhhh," Karen said. Some of her hair was in Claire's mouth. That was okay. It smelled weirdly like apples.
Matt hovered by the edge of the bed, hesitating. He looked sleepy and oddly nervous, until in an astonishingly lucky moment of timing, Karen grabbed for an arm and Foggy tripped him back into bed.
"VICTORY," Foggy shouted into a pillow.
"Seratonin," Claire said, sternly, "the beneficial -" she yawned "-effects of human touch."
"...your sheets are scratchy," Matt said, but since he'd already wrapped himself mostly around Claire she figured he could take it; just to be safe, she pushed him into the middle, where it would be harder to mount another escape attempt.