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Goddamn alphas and their goddamn knots. Matt lay on his belly, pinned by Frank's impressive bulk, and whimpered. He hurt, and judging by Frank's low groan, and the way he was grinding his teeth to hold back cuss words, the alpha was hurting too.
Some birthday, Matt couldn't help but think. It was his own fault, he supposed. There was just something about turning forty that compelled him to act with all the impulsivity of a decade ago version of himself. Back when he could do stupid things and suffer fewer consequences. This was going to hurt for days, if not weeks.
"Well… this went horribly wrong," he observed breathlessly.
Frank raised his head from where it had been resting on Matt's shoulder blade and grumbled, "Thank you, Red."
Matt huffed. "You act like this is my fault! You're the one who — "
"I know what I did," Frank muttered guiltily. "Too fast. Not enough slick."
"Too hard," Matt added, as if Frank needed some constructive feedback.
"You got that right," Frank agreed. "Fuck, my back!"
His knot was still too swollen for Frank to pull out, and Matt didn't need any extra friction dragging against his abused channel. God, it hurt. He hissed and batted at Frank's muscular arm, halting him, and grimacing when Frank moved even slightly. There was nothing to do but wait, something neither of them had ever been good at, and which wasn't improving with age. Clearly.
"Rookie mistakes, Frank. Anyone would think it was your first time," Matt said lightly, earning a growl that had stopped intimidating him years ago.
"Sorry. I forgot I was fucking a professional slut," Frank retorted, his tone irritable.
"And," Matt corrected him out of habit. "And a slut. I'm a professional, who happens to be a slut. You can't be a professional slut."
Frank snorted. "Then what are sex workers?"
"Better at this than you?" Matt suggested, pain making him snap, like always.
"You say that like you'd know," Frank murmured teasingly.
"Ugh. Shut up," Matt groaned, resting his head on his forearms.
His head jerked up again quite as quickly when his cell phone rang, chanting a familiar name, 'Foggy, Foggy, Foggy…' Matt made a despairing sound and buried his head in his arms, wondering if this birthday could possibly get any worse. It was just what he didn't need: his best friend walking in on a rendezvous gone wrong with Frank Castle.
The same thought appeared to have struck Frank, who said, "You locked the door, right?"
"God, I hope so," Matt mumbled, the words muffled due to his prone position. "I do not want Foggy seeing this."
"One of us could go check the door," Frank suggested quite halfheartedly.
"I'm never moving again," Matt declared with a touch of melodrama. "In fact, nobody moves."
Frank hummed his agreement to this plan, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of Matt's neck. This wasn't what people called aging gracefully, he reflected, finding some relief in Frank's slowly shrinking knot. If he'd wanted to age with dignity and a little grace, he was going about it the wrong way.
"I know its a bit late for this, but… happy birthday," Frank said quietly, carding gentle fingers through his hair, and dropping a kiss on the shell of his ear.
Matt smiled. "Next year, I'm just getting a cake."
"I'll make you one," Frank promised, and Matt's smile only widened, touched by that idea. "Deep breath, Red… and relax for me."
Matt nodded, concentrating on relaxing all his muscles as he exhaled, allowing Frank to carefully, and very slowly, slip his cock from his body. It still hurt, and Matt hissed in discomfort, even as Frank mouthed apologetic kisses down his back, flopping beside him with a grunt of pain, his aggravated back clearly still punishing him.
Matt concentrated on breathing, trying to ignore the way his body ached and throbbed. Cake next time, he promised himself. He was getting too old for inappropriate sex. Okay, that was a lie, and he knew it, but good intentions and all that still counted in his opinion. He'd see how he felt about it next year.