Chapter Text
Three weeks and two days after Miles Edgeworth flew back to Germany, Maya Fey showed up at Phoenix Wright’s apartment with two pints of ice cream, a stack of Steel Samurai DVDs, and a package tucked under her arm. Trucy was back in school after the holidays, and Phoenix’s shift at the Borscht Bowl didn’t start until the evening; his ratty apartment had seemed, all of the sudden, intolerably empty. So when Maya called him and announced that she was two stops away and expected to be fed, it was honestly a welcome surprise.
“Hey, old man.” She flopped gracelessly onto Phoenix’s couch, kicking her purple sandals off and wiggling her toes. “Missed ya!”
“I already ordered noodles,” Phoenix informed her. “Since I know that’s the real reason you’re here.”
“Nick! You wound me!” Maya gasped dramatically. “Since when do I only hang out with you for the free food?”
“You’re my favorite leech.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, childishly, and Phoenix mirrored her. He couldn’t stop the grin creeping across his face, though. “Where’s Pearly?”
“She’s on a class trip, and I’ve got no responsibilities for the next two days. So I’m crashing on your couch.”
“I suppose that’s ok, seeing as you brought rent.” Phoenix examined the cartons of ice cream. “Moose tracks and…apple strudel?”
“Yeah! I’ve seen how you eat apples, you weirdo.” Maya shrugged. “That was the closest flavor I could find.”
“I eat apples…the normal way?” Unnerved, Phoenix tried to remember the last time he’d had an apple. He should probably eat something leafy one of these days. Antioxidants, or whatever.
“You do not. You used to, like, gnaw on them after trials.”
“I…oh.” Phoenix felt a slight blush rise on his cheeks. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to explain that his interest in biting something red after an especially contentious trial had nothing to do with apples in particular. “And, what, you thought you needed to bring every Steel Samurai movie ever made?”
“I couldn’t trust your taste,” Maya sniffed. “Trucy likes the ‘Silver Shogun,’ which is bogus. Who knows if you’re showing her the good stuff.”
“Come on, it’s not that bad. And anyway, she watched the whole original run with Miles when he—” Phoenix stopped, his throat suddenly tight. “Um. Anyway.”
“Aaaaand that’s what this is for.” Maya tossed the plain cardboard box at him, and Phoenix dove to catch it. It was lighter than it looked. “Have fun.”
“What’s in it?”
Maya rolled her eyes. “I have no idea. Franzy gave it to me to give to you. Said it was from her “pining fool of a brother.”
Phoenix felt his heart leap in his chest. “It’s from Edgeworth?”
“Yeah-huh.”
“…He’s…?”
“Pining, yes.” Maya grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. “I think you got him, loverboy.”
Phoenix decided it would be inappropriate to leap into the air while pumping his fist, so he settled for hugging the box a little closer than was strictly necessary. He and Miles had talked on the phone nearly every day (or night, considering their wildly divergent timezones) over the past three weeks, and it was wonderful, it was so wonderful—but still.
Pining.
For Phoenix.
His heart was still stuttering, and the cold thrill of adrenaline raced up and down his body. He forced himself to breathe.
“Awesome. Yay. That is—good.” Phoenix nodded. I am being so normal about this. Extremely normal. The normal-est, even. “Thanks, Maya. Do you want me to scoop you some ice cream—?”
“Oh my gods, just go open it already! In the bathroom or something. I don’t even wanna know.” Maya slid back onto the couch and thumbed the remote. “Don’t take forever, though, I do want to hang out with you today.”
Phoenix thanked all his lucky stars for a friend as amazing as Maya, and bolted for his bedroom, package clutched to his chest. From Miles from Miles from Miles—! He felt elated, like a kid on Christmas morning. He kicked the door shut behind him—it rattled loudly, and he heard Maya yell Jeez! from the living room—and realized with dismay that he did not keep scissors in his bedroom. Oh, well. It would be too embarrassing to slink back outside, so Phoenix sawed at the tape with his apartment key. This is normal. This is a normal reaction to getting a package from your boyfriend. Long-distance boyfriend. That I haven’t seen in three whole entire weeks and I miss him I miss him I miss him I miss him—
The tape parted, and Phoenix wrenched the cardboard flaps open. Inside were several individually-wrapped little items, cushioned with tissue paper. There was a letter on top in a red envelope; it was addressed, in Miles’ artful penmanship, to “My Love.” Phoenix nearly swooned, and shoved a knuckle into his mouth to muffle any embarrassing noises.
His ‘love!’ His! His and love! Love and also his!
Oh god, he was so pathetic. But thankfully, Miles seemed to be at least comparably pathetic, so it worked out. He slid a finger along the inner seam of the envelope and ripped it open.
Dearest Phoenix,
I find myself thinking of you more than is probably prudent, considering how such musings are affecting my work performance. Not that I have failed to meet any of my various deadlines, of course—
“Of course,” Phoenix murmured, smiling so widely his face hurt—
—but I have noticed a certain drop in efficiency that I can only attribute to my newly acquired fixation on…you. Every aspect of your personality and physicality has consumed my thoughts. Our regular phone calls are the highlight of my day. And yet I find that expressing myself in that medium is…sometimes challenging. Through writing, I can perhaps speak more freely, as it were.
And so, let me be clear: Phoenix darling, I love you with my heart and soul, and I miss you dearly. I have been spending long, unnecessary hours in my office because I find my empty apartment quite loathsome. In particular, my bed—which is large and fancy and fitted with an extremely expensive mattress advertised to mitigate back pain—seems quite egregiously plush for one man alone.
It seems to me that two men might fit nicely, though.
Phoenix choked. Holy shit Miles—! This was more direct than he typically managed on the phone.
To that end, I have procured, via ‘Ziska, a flexible round-trip ticket for you to come visit me in early March. The weather will be dreadful, but I do not intend to spend a significant portion of your visit outside, if you catch my meaning.
Phoenix choked again. What? He—what?!
I realize that this is a surprise, and that I did not check your availability first. I am therefore guilty of a rather severe relationship faux pas, but I hope you will forgive me. As I said, the ticket is flexible, so you can select which dates might best fit your schedule. You are free to decline if you are not interested or if the timing is inopportune, but—I miss you. I would like to have a concrete idea of when I can see you again.
As—something to look forward to.
Phoenix’s heart seized. He pressed one hand against his mouth, overwhelmed; it was a good thing he had opened this damn package in the bedroom, because he didn’t need Maya seeing what an absolute lovesick puddle he was turning into.
Even if this particular trip does not suit you, I hope we can meet in person again soon. I have included a few small gifts for you and Trucy; please enjoy them. I have also included a “hoodie” which I purchased and wore especially for you. My online shopping algorithms have been thoroughly ruined. I should prosecute, but I will settle for the return of my shirt that you purloined. I would like it back.
Yours, in every sense of the word – Miles Edgeworth
P.S. If you should choose to include another item of your clothing in a return package, I would not be opposed. I have enjoyed having the first one very much.
Phoenix grabbed a pillow from his bed, buried his face in it, and released all the air from his lungs in a rather desperate HAHHH that wasn’t quite a scream. Miles Edgeworth was going to murder him from all the way in Germany. Phoenix was about to drop stone-cold dead in his own bedroom, because his heart absolutely couldn’t take this much sweet, vulnerable honesty from Miles Goddamn Edgeworth when the man was halfway across the world and could not be grabbed and kissed senseless.
There was a hesitant knock on the door, and Phoenix started.
“Hey, uh…you good in there?”
“I’m fine!” Phoenix squeaked. “Just, uh—he’s being sweet.”
“Edgeworth, sweet?” Maya’s voice was sarcastic through the door. “Whatever you say, Nick. Hurry up, will you? I wanna watch a movie.”
“Shush, you! I’ve seen Franziska be sweet with you, and she’s way scarier than Miles.”
“Yeah, she is,” said Maya smugly. “Fine, whatever, call him if you want—just don’t take all day.”
“Love youuuu!”
“Love you too, you pain in the ass.”
Phoenix heard her footsteps heading down the hall, and stuffed a towel under the door for added privacy. Then he pulled his second phone—the secret one, the one Franziska had gotten so that he could call Miles without fear of Kristoph bugging it—out from its hiding place underneath his mattress. He thumbed it on and rang the number. It would be late in Munich but not too bad, he should still be—
Miles picked up on the second ring. “Phoenix!” If Phoenix closed his eyes, he could picture the smile in the other man’s voice. “Excellent timing, I just arrived home.”
Phoenix grinned; he couldn’t help it. His heart was singing, Miles, Miles, Miles. He forced himself to sound stern. “You shouldn’t stay at work so late. You need your sleep.”
“Mmm.” Miles’ voice was tired, but fond. “You don’t need to fret about me, Phoenix.”
“No, seriously.” Phoenix ducked his head, his smile bleeding into the last word. “What kind of host will you be if you’re exhausted?”
“…Host?” Miles sounded perplexed. “What—oh! You read my letter!”
“I did.” If this phone had a cord, Phoenix would be twirling it between his fingers.
“And?” There was an almost-painful note of hopefulness in Miles’ voice. Phoenix would walk barefoot over glass to keep that precious spark alive.
“Do you even have to ask? Yes, Miles! Yes, obviously yes, oh my god—I can’t believe you!” His laughter bubbled over, and Phoenix swiped a hand across his eyes. “I’m—I can’t even—I can’t wait.”
“It wasn’t too…impertinent? To purchase tickets without consulting you first?”
“Miles, I have literally nothing going on outside of some bullshit cat-and-mouse games with Tall Blonde and Creepy.” He dropped his voice, letting a note of smoke creep in. “You can whisk me away to Europe anytime you like.”
There was a delightful little noise from Miles over the phone. “And you—Trucy will be alright without you? I’m more than willing to include her as well, but I was…rather hoping that…?”
“She’ll be fine.” Phoenix loved his daughter with his whole entire heart—but. Miles had been gone for less than a month, and Phoenix was already ravenous. Trucy could bond with “Uncle Miles” all she wanted the next time he visited Japanifornia—but this time, Miles was all his. “I’ll clear the dates with Maya. I’ll—god, Miles, I’d fucking swim there if I had to. Fuck. I loved your letter. I loved it.”
“…You did?” Shy. Vulnerable.
“Miles, send me more letters. Send me a letter every goddamn day. If writing lets you—say things, more freely, fuck. I’ll write back to you. Whatever you want. But I—just, wow.”
“I am…glad to hear it.” Phoenix could hear the smile around the edges. “I’ll consider it. So, I can expect you in March?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you absolutely can. I’ll figure out the dates and let you know.” He examined the printed itinerary that had been included in the letter, noting with approval that Franziska was listed as the purchaser. Need to thank her for running interference like this. “You were thinking, what, a week?”
“If you would like to stay longer, simply say the word.” Miles’ voice was earnest. “But I thought you might not want to spend so long away from Trucy.”
“Yeah, a week is probably good.” Phoenix considered, fingers rasping against his chin. He really should shave one of these days. “Don’t want Kristoph getting suspicious.”
“Indeed.” Distaste tainted Miles’ voice like an oil-slick, and Phoenix grinned.
“You worry about me.”
“Obviously, Wright.”
“I love you so much.”
“…Likewise. Wright. Phoenix. I…I meant what I wrote. Every word.”
“Yeah.” Phoenix’s heart felt like it was going to break out of his ribs. “I could tell. I could tell, babe.”
“I simply…I wanted you to know—”
“Miles, I’m going to be thinking about that letter for days. You’ve totally wrecked my ability to be a functional adult, you know? Maya’s out in the hall waiting to watch a movie, but I just had to call you. I’m so excited, okay? I’m kind of freaking out.”
“…Miss Fey is there?” Miles sounded guilty. “You should go be with her, not wasting time with me. I don’t mean to be a distraction.”
“Too late, babe. You’re my number-one all-time favorite distraction.” Phoenix’s cheeks were sore from smiling so hard. “I can’t do anything without thinking about you.”
“…Hrm. Er,” said Miles. “As I indicated, I have a…similar affliction.”
“How’d I get so lucky?” Phoenix’s heart squeezed.
A soft noise, half the world away. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.” He blew out a breath. “Okay, it’s a plan. I’ll see you in like two months, Miles.”
“I look forward to it.”
“You have no idea.” Phoenix whined into the phone. “I literally can’t wait. I might explode.”
“Please do not. I—I would—” Miles sounded like he was struggling to get the words out. Phoenix listened curiously. Finally, Miles blurted out: “—I would very much like to make you explode in person!”
Phoenix made a noise like a surprised goose, and Miles abruptly hung up the phone. Oh my god oh my god—Phoenix jammed the “call back” button, but was immediately rejected. He settled for text:
Oh my god, babe. Fuck. Now I have to get rid of a boner. I’m gonna get you back for all this teasing next time I see you.
…[Miles is typing]
…I’m counting on it, Wright.
Phoenix pressed the phone to his face and shut his eyes, willing his hormones to settle down without much success. How was he going to survive the next two months?
* * * * *
The next few weeks dragged by, the time stretched like taffy by his anticipation. Phoenix found himself counting down the days like they were laps on a track, or doses of a particularly nasty medicine—something that needed to be endured in exchange for the relief of being finished. He endured the gentle teasing of Maya and Trucy—
“You’re a simp, Nick, you know that? I’m happy for you, but BLECH—”
“Daddy looooooves Uncle Miles!” (*uproarious giggling*)
“—I mean, seriously, I guess he’s a simp right back but oh MAN are you two, like, emotionally codependent wow—”
“Are you gonna KISS him, Daddy? Are you gonna KISS Uncle Miles?” (*further giggling*)
“—You get all goo-goo eyed after you talk to him, did you know that? It’s sweet but also gross, haha—”
“Daddy bring me a present from Germ-a-ny! Daddy! I want fancy desserts, Auntie Frannie says Germ-ny has extra-good desserts!”
“—I mean I really am super happy but L-O-L I did NOT expect Edgeworth to be this down bad, I thought he maybe just didn’t have emotions but I guess “horny” is an emo—” “MAYA.”
—and the less-gentle teasing of Franziska, who reluctantly coordinated with him on the particulars of the flights while reminding him, very pointedly, that she had much better things to do than set up trysts for her ridiculous brother and his foolish fool of a boyfriend.
“Trysts?” Phoenix asked, sarcastically. “Plural?”
“Of course not, you idiot. I am exaggerating for comedic effect.” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose a fool of a defense attorney wouldn’t know comedy if it bit him in the rear.”
“Bummer, because if Miles was flying a different boyfriend out to see him, I’d punch the guy and steal his ticket.” Phoenix grinned. “Then I’d get to have two trysts.”
He could practically hear Franziska’s eye-roll over the phone. “You’re flying a redeye coach ticket to Las Vegas, the cheapest seat available. There is a poker tournament happening that week, and you’ve been registered as a participant.”
“Uh…wow,” said Phoenix. “Um, but I won’t be there? Is that something Kristoph can check?”
“Only the winners of matches are recorded; if you do not appear, you forfeit. So you may tell Kristoph that either you lost the first match and then spent a week drinking in Vegas like a degenerate, or you may tell him that you were too afraid of losing to actually play…and then spent a week drinking in Vegas like a degenerate. Up to you.”
“Gee, thanks,” fell out of Phoenix’s mouth before his brain remembered that he owed Franziska more than he could probably ever pay her back, and the least he could do was acknowledge that. “…Sorry. Force of habit. I mean, thank you, Franziska. A poker tournament is a really good idea for a cover.”
She sniffed. “Of course it is, you fool. I came up with it, after all.”
“You’re the best.”
“Cease,” she said, but there was a hint of smugness in her voice. “Once you arrive in Vegas, you will transfer to an upgraded ticket and fly to JFK, then Munich. Your return flights will follow the same pattern.”
“You’re amazing and I owe you forever.”
“Phoenix Wright, I swear—”
“Can I bring you anything back from Germany?” The question stopped her, and the phone line went quiet for a long moment. Finally, she answered:
“…An unexpectedly considerate question. I do enjoy an 84% dark Rausch chocolate, if you must know.” Another pause. “It was…surprisingly unfoolish of you to ask.”
“Yeah. I’ll find some. Or, like, Miles will find some and I’ll buy it for you.”
“Hmm. Make sure to purchase multiple types of sweets for your daughter to try. She should be exposed to proper European chocolate, not the disgusting flavored plastic available here.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve already promised her a pile of fancy snacks.” Phoenix smiled fondly. “She’s almost excited about this trip as I am.”
“That is because she is a delightful and intelligent child,” Franziska cooed, the fond tone at odds with her usual biting wit. “I really must see her again soon.”
“Anytime, Franziska. Trucy would love it…and so would a certain spirit medium I know.” He curled his voice up at the end, teasing.
“Hmph—!” The line went dead. Phoenix grinned at the phone, and then went to text Maya that her favorite whip-cracking prosecutor might be stopping by soon.
* * * * *
The days dragged by.
The days dragged by, and Phoenix strained against the time like a dog pulling at a chain. A week. Five days. Four. Thirty-six hours.
Thirty-six hours until he boarded a plane for Vegas, then to JFK. Five hours in the air cross-country, and three more hours until the end of his layover. Eight hours on a plane to Munich.
All told, about fifty-five hours until Miles Edgeworth would be—hopefully—waiting for him on the other side of the world.
Phoenix could hardly contain his anxiety. He was excited, too—lord knew he was excited, he’d hardly been able to sleep for days—but nerves buzzed beneath his skin, all the same. This would be their first meeting since…well. Since Miles had come to Los Angeles that past December, determined to rescue Phoenix from himself; since he had done exactly that, and more.
Since Phoenix had confessed that he loved Miles. Since Miles had replied that—somehow, unbelievably, impossibly—he loved Phoenix back. That they loved each other. That somehow, unbelievably, impossibly, Phoenix was allowed to touch him, and kiss him, and hold him at night. Since they had realized that they wanted this.
And Miles had gone back to Europe, because he had to. And Phoenix had stayed in L.A., because he had to. And they had made it work, long-distance, so far, through the nightly calls and surreptitious packages and—from Miles especially—sweet, vulnerable letters.
But, still—Phoenix couldn’t help but worry. Things had been so perfect in December, just a few short months ago…but what if things had changed in that time? What if he got to Munich and Miles took one look at him and went eurgh, why was I ever interested in this washed-up mess of a man? Or eurgh, I forgot how utterly pathetic this poker-playing version of Wright is, or eurgh, I forgot how much of a hassle it is dating a man who must hide his every movement, and who cannot allow our relationship to become public. I’d rather find a nice normal non-disaster boyfriend and marry him and settle down immediately!
Phoenix knew his own feelings on the matter—that he loved Miles Edgeworth with every fiber of his being, and that he would go to his grave loving Miles Edgeworth, and he wanted to spend every waking moment before that with Miles Edgeworth if at all possible—but there was no guarantee that Miles Edgeworth felt the same.
Except for all of his communications, Phoenix supposed.
Phoenix. I am awaiting your arrival with great anticipation.
O yea?
Yes. I’m afraid that the replacement garment you provided me is no longer serving its purpose.
Miles i snt that hoodie like a wekk ago. Youv worn it out already?
Phoenix, I know that you are capable of using proper grammar. Please text accordingly.
u luv it <3 when i get there ill roll all over ur bed and smell it up. Like a stink bug. ;P
…
;D
…
:(
Sigh.
did u just type “sigh”
I needed you to know that I was sighing.
i already knew, babe. lol <4
…Did you mean to type “<3”?
nah i luv u 4, not 3 <4
…Phoenix. I miss you.
*Phoenix is typing*
…
*Phoenix is typing*
…I miss you too. Really bad. God, Miles, I miss you.
* * * * *
Miles was getting bolder on the phone. Phoenix called him after work, 18 hours before he would be boarding a plane to Vegas, 37 hours before he would see him again.
“—I’m telling you, what a shitty shift. What kind of asshole actually flips the table when he loses?”
“I’m truly sorry, Phoenix.” Miles’ voice rolled over him like warm bathwater, and Phoenix felt himself relax. “I wish I could have been there to put that delinquent in his place.”
“Eh, it’s whatever. Kenny kicked him out and we kept his money, so. At least there’s that.”
“It’s quite late there, isn’t it? Have you eaten?”
Phoenix groaned. “Not yet. I’ve gotta go shopping before I leave on Friday. I’ll probably run out and grab something from Eldoon’s after we hang up.”
“Hrm,” said Miles, disapprovingly. “It’s not ideal, but I suppose it will do. You need to be eating.”
“Uh?” said Phoenix. “I’m fine, Miles, it’s just one dinner—”
“…After all,” said Miles, sounding coy—sounding giddy— “You need to keep your strength up.”
All of Phoenix’s extraneous thoughts ground to an abrupt halt. “What.”
“You heard me, Wright.”
The rest of the call had been rather exciting, even if it only made Phoenix more voracious for the real thing.
* * * * *
Twelve hours until he left. Eight. Four.
“Bring me back a souvenir!” Maya demanded, dragging her luggage into the apartment. “Something cool, so I can brag to all the homebodies back in Khura’in!” Trucy, eating spaghetti at the table, waved cheerfully to her aunt. Phoenix leaned in close to Maya’s ear, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“No promises,” he told her, unable to hide his glee. “I’m afraid there’s no guarantee I’m going outside this week.”
“Ewwwwww,” said Maya emphatically. “Sorry I asked!”
He grinned at her, heart in his throat. “Turnabout is fair play—I had to deal with you last weekend.”
“Franzy and I were perfectly appropriate last weekend, thank you—”
* * * * *
Phoenix hugged Maya and his daughter goodbye, promising Trucy he’d be back before she even missed him; boarded the first plane in a mess of jitters and excitement. Debarked in Vegas, retrieved his suitcase from baggage claim and then re-routed himself through security, as Franziska had instructed. Jiggled his leg anxiously above the Rocky Mountains, and fidgeted in his seat above the Great Lakes. Sipped lightly at the free champagne offered in his ridiculously plush first class seat—Miles had booked him first class!—and wondered if this was going to be a disaster. Wondered if Miles would take one look at him and send him home on the next flight to Japanifornia. Wondered if December was just a lovesick fantasy, and Miles had never reciprocated his feelings; never allowed him to touch and kiss and caress. Wondered if he had dreamed the whole thing.
Wondered if Miles still actually loved him.
It sounded absurd, didn’t it? Miles. Miles Edgeworth. Loving him.
Could it really be true?
Phoenix was half-delirious with nerves and exhaustion by the time he caught his connection from New York to Munich, and was pleasantly shocked to find that the seat reclined nearly flat. How much had Miles paid for these tickets? He declined the champagne and sipped a whisky neat instead, savoring the burn in his throat. Somewhere over the Atlantic, he pulled the thin airline blanket over himself and prepared for another restless drag of hours.
He woke from a deep, dreamless sleep just as the plane began to descend, and was flooded with anxiety and dizzy, overwhelming excitement all over again.
Miles, Miles, Miles.
The plane landed. The plane taxied. Phoenix turned on his phone.
I’m waiting outside. Look for the red Mazda.
See you soon.
Red. Red and Miles and red and Miles and red.
And then Phoenix had found his bag on the carousel—it wasn’t hard, Trucy had tied a yellow ribbon to the handle—and lugged it outside, and there was the red sports car, and behind the wheel was Miles.
Behind the wheel was Miles, and he was beautiful.
Behind the wheel was Miles, and he was beautiful, and he smiled when he saw Phoenix, and his face lost ten years in that moment and Phoenix loved him so fiercely he thought his heart would crack.
Oh god, I love him. I love him so much.
Holy shit, this is real.
We’re real.
Phoenix flung his suitcase into the trunk and his ass into the passenger seat and Miles palmed the stick shift with practiced ease—don’t stare at his hands on the shifter, yes it’s a manual car and yes that’s sexy but don’t do it shit shitshit!—and they were moving, speeding away from the airport in a rush of wind and asphalt. Phoenix fought to breathe through his nose like a normal goddamn human being and Miles was focused on the road ahead, his eyes never once flicking toward his passenger. Phoenix took the opportunity to stare at him, at his perfectly chiseled cheekbones and the elegant sweep of his silver bangs. He looked—he looked, perhaps, a little less haggard than before. A little more filled out. Perhaps Germany suited him.
Perhaps being in love suited him.
Phoenix squashed the thought down. All the calls and letters in the world couldn’t convince him that Miles felt the same, not really; but time would tell.
Heaven knew, he’d been pining for this moment. And Miles wasn’t looking at him. And Phoenix couldn’t tear his eyes away.
When Miles finally spoke, his voice sounded strained and distant, like he was choking something back.
“We have a dinner reservation at 7:30. It is a local Italian restaurant that I enjoy. I hope that suits you. If you would rather something else, I can of course—”
“Italian sounds fine.”
“I assumed you would be hungry.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
They sat in painful, snapping silence for a few long minutes. The hybrid car’s engine was too quiet; the city dark and still. Patches of grey snow lined the sidewalks, and the sky was heavy with clouds.
“So…dinner?” tried Phoenix.
“Yes,” said Miles, not tearing his eyes from the road ahead. “It seemed…necessary.”
“Sure, I guess?” wondered Phoenix. “I mean, I probably wouldn’t starve—”
“When did you last eat?”
“Uh…New York?” Phoenix tried to mentally calculate how long that had been, considering time-zones, and gave up. “It’s probably been a while?”
“The prosecution rests,” said Miles stiffly as they drew to a stop at a red light. The car’s engine purred softly, and Phoenix felt like he was about to crawl out of his own skin. He stared at the side of Miles’ face, bathed in crimson light, yearning for the other man to just look at him—and Miles stared determinedly ahead at the intersection like he was being graded for it.
“…Can I kiss you?” asked Phoenix, pitiful.
“No,” said Miles tightly. “I am going to take you out for a nice dinner, because you deserve a good meal and I suspect you haven’t had one in three months.”
“Oh,” said Phoenix. “…does a good meal preclude kissing?”
“With you it does,” said Miles, his knuckles white on the steering wheel and his eyes locked on the light.
“…Because I’ll…ruin it?” asked Phoenix, feeling a stab of hurt twist in his gut.
“Wha—no, Phoenix Wright, because if I let you kiss me, I will not be able to stop kissing you, and I am holding onto my decorum by the merest thread, and I want to treat you to a nice dinner like a gentleman instead of stripping you naked in this car and scandalizing all of Munich!”
“…oh,” said Phoenix, stupefied. “…Really?”
“Yes, ‘really,’ you insufferable man!”
Looking at him now, Phoenix realized that the tips of his ears were slightly pink, and he was breathing in shallow little bursts.
“Oh, Miles.” Phoenix melted. “Ok, yeah, that’s a good point. After dinner, though?”
“After dinner and you’ve had a shower. Air travel is filthy.”
I’ll give you ‘filthy,’ favorite dork of mine, thought Phoenix. “Fiiiiine,” he whined aloud. “But then I get to kiss you.”
“Then I…I sincerely hope you will kiss me, at the very least,” said Miles, his breath catching.
“That can probably be arranged,” purred Phoenix, deciding that he liked this little game. Miles wanted to draw out the tension, did he? Wanted to keep the night on a tight leash until he could finally let it loose?
Oh, this would be fun.
“So, I shouldn’t tell you about all the fantasies I’ve been entertaining, all by myself, for the past three months?”
“You should not. Not—right this moment.” Miles sounded a bit strangled.
“And you’re sure we shouldn’t just turn this car around and fuck each other’s brains out first, and then go to dinner?”
The prosecutor made a choking noise, but rallied. “I think it is best that we eat. I intend,” he said, deliberately, his tongue rolling heavy on each syllable, “To be…indisposed for the foreseeable future.”
Oh, holy shit.
“Yeah?” Phoenix managed.
“Yes,” said Miles firmly. “If you are amenable.”
“Oh fuck yes.”
The light turned green. Miles hit the gas. And suddenly Phoenix’s heart was beating again, the past three lonely months washing away like footprints in the sand, and they couldn’t be driving fast enough.
Oh fuck yes.
* * * * *
They ate dinner at what was, Phoenix was sure, a very expensive Italian restaurant. He ordered gnocchi with sage, and Miles ordered creste de gallo with mushrooms, and Phoenix couldn’t tear his eyes away, and god help him, he was this close to climbing over the table to grab Miles by the cravat and kiss him senseless. Miles was wearing chapstick and some kind of subtle musky cologne, and Phoenix wanted to shove his face into the other man’s neck and lick it off him. He wanted he wanted he wanted. He sullenly chewed a piece of pasta, imagining all the better things he could be doing with his mouth right now.
Miles sipped a glass of red wine—Phoenix had let him choose, thank god, he didn’t know what the hell made a good wine and he could barely taste it right now anyway—and the toe of his leather shoe slowly, deliberately, slid up the side of Phoenix’s calf. Phoenix choked on his own wine. Miles quirked an eyebrow at him and slid his foot higher. Phoenix retaliated by letting a little whimper escape between his teeth, and saw Miles turn red as a tomato, jerking his foot back.
Well, that won’t do. He kicked off one tennis shoe under the table and dragged his socked foot slowly across Miles’ ankle, then up under the leg of his slacks. Miles visibly flinched, his eyes going wide. Phoenix grinned evilly at him. Sorry babe, I am so far past shame that I’d take you on this table right now, and damn the consequences. Miles looked like he realized this, and was torn between ‘alarmed’ and ‘delighted.’ He narrowed his eyes, calculating, and Phoenix felt a shiver of delight race down his spine. Miles reached out with one of those unfairly graceful hands and forked a piece of pasta off Phoenix’s plate. He drew it slowly to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Phoenix’s; his tongue poked out to subtly wet his lips before they parted to envelop the bite. He drew the fork out smoothly, eyes slipping closed in bliss; his jaw worked, then tilted to show off the slender expanse of his throat as he swallowed, slowly.
Phoenix’s mouth had gone dry, and his sweatpants were suddenly very tight. He slid his seat further under the tablecloth to make sure nothing was visible.
Miles had gotten bolder, these past few months; Miles had gotten bolder and Phoenix was doomed and also possibly dying and it was suddenly too hot in this damn restaurant, why was it so damn hot and why were they not speeding back to Miles’ apartment right this moment, screw the pasta!? Phoenix took a swig of wine that was probably too nice to be swigged, and let a few drops linger on his lips, catching Miles’ eyes as he slowly licked them off, flashing his canines. Miles was flushed a lovely pink, and his pupils had gone dark, and suddenly there was a firm pressure against Phoenix’s inner thigh. Across the table, Miles raised an eyebrow at him, smug. Phoenix hissed as the toe of Miles’ shoe slid higher, and then it was pressed directly where he wanted it, and he could hardly hold back a groan as his hips twitched, longing to buck into the pressure. Miles sipped his own wine, a small smile ghosting across his lips, as Phoenix fisted the tablecloth and fought to keep himself still. He felt a bead of sweat slip down from his hairline, and know he must look like a mess even if the cause wasn’t apparent.
Damn it, Miles must have his leg fully extended under the table and you can’t even tell from his posture! Has he always been that flexible—?!
Has he?!
How far could he—how far could I—?
Phoenix tore his mind away from that thought, biting his lower lip until it hurt. He saw Miles’ eyes catch on the motion, saw him swallow hard and tug his cravat away from his neck.
Oh my god, neither of us are surviving dinner.
“…Truce?” he managed, a little breathless.
“No,” said Miles, swirling his wine. His eyes flicked up, ruthless despite the pink tinge to his ears. “I am rather enjoying this. Do your worst, dear.”
Dear. ‘Dear’ in public.
Holy shit.
But—he’s right.
For just this week, we can be real. Together—dating—out in the open. We can have this.
Well, then.
Phoenix leaned across the table and took Miles’ free hand. He grinned egregiously, and felt his heart swell at the challenge in the other man’s eyes. “You’re right, darling. I was being silly. After all—this is kind of our first date, isn’t it?”
That clearly hadn’t occurred to Miles. Of course, they had gone on plenty of group outings back in December, and been romantic every private moment they could—but they couldn’t have a real, one-on-one, public date. Not in Japanifornia, under Kristoph’s watchful eyes. They couldn’t hold hands and say lovey-dovey things in front of other people. So Phoenix was going to abuse that privilege.
“Well—I suppose it is, in a way.” Miles fidgeted. “Goodness, I didn’t really consider—”
“Oh yes,” Phoenix purred. “And have I told you how very delicious you look tonight, babe? Good enough to eat.”
Miles blinked at him, mouth falling open. “I—Phoenix!”
“What’s the matter, baby?” Phoenix leaned closer. “This is what people do on dates, isn’t it? Talk gooey to each other?”
“Is—is it?” squeaked Miles, a vivid blush spreading across his cheeks and creeping down his neck. “I—I haven’t ever—”
“Right, I know. So now I’m gonna show you how much I appreciate you setting this up. In fact, I’m going to praise you so good.”
“Ngh—!” Miles’ eyes were huge; he looked like a rabbit pinned by a fox.
“You’re so beautiful, love. And so thoughtful. So good for me. Look how you did all this—you’re being so good tonight.”
“NGH.” Miles squirmed visibly.
“Oh, sorry, have I not been clear? About how perfect you are, just for me? Did you hear that, Miles? Miiiiles. You’re sooo good for me, always so good for me—”
“PHOENIX.” Miles looked a little panicked. “We are in public.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Phoenix shoved a bite of really-quite-delicious pasta into his mouth. “But what’s the problem? I haven’t said anything inappropriate, have I? I’m just telling you what a good boyfriend you are, how you’re just perfect for me—”
Miles looked like he was about to combust, his bangs disheveled. His foot pressed harder into Phoenix’s groin, and Phoenix bit back a moan, hips jerking. Miles leapt to his feet.
“I need to—restroom!” He hustled away, his gait awkward and rapid.
Oh no, you don’t!
Phoenix threw his own napkin onto the table, muttered “—be right back!” to the surprised waiter, and nearly sprinted after Miles. The bathroom door was still swinging when he got there, and Phoenix shouldered through it to find Miles standing in front of the mirror, both hands splayed on the sink basin like he was holding onto it for dear life. There was no-one else in with them, thank goodness; both stall doors hung open.
Miles turned to face him, clearly surprised, and then Phoenix was shoving him against the delicately-tiled wall, pinning the taller man with his body weight. Miles melted beneath him, going pliant in his arms, and Phoenix shoved his face into the prosecutor’s neck and kissed his pulse like it was salvation. Miles whimpered and gripped Phoenix’s hair so hard it hurt.
“Phoenix—” he gasped. That voice, fuck, that voice! He was begging, begging, and Phoenix felt like his blood was on fire in his veins. Miles was warm in his arms and everything in soul was screaming to kiss him, kiss him you fool—!
But no. Miles wanted to wait, so Phoenix could wait.
But he wasn’t a saint. Phoenix growled and dragged his tongue up the side of Miles’ throat, just to hear his breath stutter. Miles’ erection dug painfully into his thigh, and Phoenix rocked his hips into the other man’s so he could feel what he had done. Miles shuddered beneath him, almost keening; Phoenix sucked a hickey into his neck and snarled, “You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine, Miles—!”
Miles retaliated by grabbing the strings of his hoodie and yanking him forward, the pressure punishing; snarling, he bit Phoenix’s ear hard enough to sting. Phoenix’s hips jerked forward and Miles moved with him, perfectly in sync. For a glorious moment they ground against each other, half a dance and half a fight—Miles was strong and lithe in his arms, and Phoenix didn’t know whose cock he wanted where, just as long as somebody’s went somewhere as expeditiously as possible—
And then he forced himself to step backwards, panting like he’d run a marathon; Miles stared at him, pressed against the wall and looking absolutely debauched, his eyes glassy and his lips parted.
“Come on,” Phoenix rasped, his voice raw with need. “…Let’s finish up and get out of here.”
“…Agreed,” said Miles, sounding dazed.
They finished their food in quick, subdued bites, barely tasting it; Miles paid without taking his eyes off Phoenix’s face. They got back into the car, and if Miles rode the gas pedal like it owed him money, Phoenix certainly wasn’t complaining.
* * * * *
They got inside Miles’ apartment, somehow, dragging each other forward up the stairs with their fingers tangled together; the door slammed shut behind them and Miles was holding up both hands and squeezing his eyes shut, head turned away like he couldn’t even look at Phoenix without losing his composure. “—No no no not yet, we are going to shower—!”
“We could shower together…”
“No! That won’t accomplish anything!”
“Oh I bet I could accomplish some things if you give me the chance—”
“Wright! God help me—”
“Miles.” Phoenix reached out and took him by the arms, gently. “Hey. Look at me?” The prosecutor sagged a bit and turned tentatively toward him, bangs shielding his eyes. “Easy, yeah? I’m sorry for teasing you. We can shower separately, or we can just sleep tonight—whatever you want.”
Miles sighed, and rested his forehead against Phoenix’s for a moment before straightening. “Nonsense. I fully intend to delay sleeping for as extended a period as you can manage.”
“—as long as I can manage?” Phoenix grinned. “Think I can’t keep up? Are we taking bets?”
“No, because you are jetlagged whether you realize it or not,” quipped Miles primly. “Regardless. I am sorry for my…anxiety. I simply—I want—” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to think me foolish.”
“Never, babe,” Phoenix swore honestly. “Whatever you want, it’s important to me.” Storm-silver eyes flicked to meet his, and a small smile ghosted across Miles’ face. Phoenix longed to kiss him, longed so badly it felt like his heart was being stretched like taffy, but he resisted because Miles had asked him to.
Anything for you, Miles. Anything, whatever, whenever—literally anything, for you.
“Well, I…” Miles tipped his head back, groaning. “I had something of a vision for tonight. I wanted things just so.”
“Oh, yeah?” Phoenix let a predatory smile creep across his face, feeling his heart flip. “Sounds good, babe. Just tell me what you want. Your wish is my command.” He winked, and Miles’ resulting blush was so, so worth it.
“I want us both to be clean. Air travel is disgusting, and I will be very disappointed if you fall ill partway through the week.”
“Fair.” Phoenix nodded. “Ok, yeah. I’ll wash up. What next?”
“Well next I…I have a surprise.”
“Do you.” Phoenix couldn’t stop smiling. “What kind of surprise?”
“A surprise kind of surprise.” Miles’ voice brooked no argument. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Fiiiine. Anything else?”
“Well, I—I want to make it clear,” said Miles, “that the…specifics of tonight’s activities are completely up to you. As I said, I have a surprise, but it can accommodate—ah, multiple roles, as it were. But before we shower, I’d like to clarify your preference.”
“You’re asking whether I want to top or bottom?” asked Phoenix, amused. Miles looked annoyed.
“Well, yes, but I was attempting this thing called ‘tact.’ You should try it sometime.”
Phoenix grinned at him. “Honestly, Miles? I’ve been so excited about this that I can’t even pick which fantasy I want to try first. I’ve got no preference tonight. I just want to be with you.”
“But…” Miles frowned slightly, twisting his hands together. “You just flew halfway across the world. I want you to be comfortable.”
“I am comfortable, I promise!” Phoenix loved this dork so, so much. “Here’s an idea: you tell me what I should do after a flight.”
Miles considered, his beautiful sharp eyes thoughtful. “Well, often after a flight, one might like to exercise and stretch one’s muscles.”
“Very logical,” said Phoenix agreeably. “And what else might one do?”
“Well, air travel is often very tiring,” Miles hedged. “So one could also prefer to rest. To…lie back and relax, as it were.”
“Oh yeah, one might,” said Phoenix. He could feel the smile creeping back across his face despite his best efforts to stifle it. “Well, babe, you’re the one with the most experience flying. Do you have any recommendations for me? What would be…healthier?”
Miles’ blush was nearly fluorescent. “As I said, it is up to you, but if you want my opinion…I generally prefer to engage in, ah…vigorous physical activity after traveling. For the health benefits, of course. I might suggest you do the same.”
“Oh yeah, you do,” purred Phoenix, pouncing on him. He scooped Miles up into his arms, kissing at his neck and laughing as the prosecutor squeaked in surprise. “I knew you had a preference for me! I’ll give you ‘vigorous physical activity,’ you minx, you!”
Miles pushed at his chest, squirming. “Put me down, Wright! I have preparations to attend to, and precious little self-control right now!”
“Hot,” said Phoenix, but obligingly released him with one final teasing nibble at his cravat. “Okay, shoo. Meet back here in, like, 20 minutes? I need to get this plane grime off of me.”
“Excellent.” Miles fussed with his clothes, sounding smug. “But follow me. You don’t even know where the bathroom is.”
He was led through the tidy apartment, marveling at the stuffed bookshelves and cozy furniture; the space was much more lived-in than Miles’ half-empty apartment back in Los Angeles. That thought sent a pang of complicated emotion through his chest. Does Miles feel more comfortable in Germany than in Japanifornia? Is this his ‘home,’ now, and LA is just where he visits? Or is this just temporary, because this is where he’s living right now?
Where does his heart really call home?
And then Miles sashayed through a doorway with a swing of his hips that was absolutely deliberate, and Phoenix shoved the “melancholy musings” part of his brain into a deep, dark basement and locked the door.
Miles showed him to the master bedroom—which did, indeed, have an absolutely decadent king-size bed—and physically pushed him into the attached bathroom.
“Don’t you want—” Phoenix started.
“I’ll use the guest shower. Go on! Take your time. Hurry! I—I am very glad you’re here!” And then the door was shut in his face.
Phoenix blinked at the white wood, heart squeezing with affection, and yelled, “Me too!” after the retreating footsteps. He thought he heard a quiet “ngk” but couldn’t be sure.
Aw, shit.
Yeah, he was in love forever.
Phoenix took a moment to appreciate the decadent bathroom, the walls tiled in a lovely blue-and-white pattern and the shower cubbies full of fancy hair products. He stripped and dropped his clothes into the hamper by the door, then stepped into the shower in a cloud of gloriously warm spray. A clump of dried lavender hung from the showerhead, and the bathroom filled with its soothing scent as Phoenix lathered himself with goat’s-milk soap and scrubbed moisturizing shampoo through his spikes. The water was hot and lovely and maybe he really was more grimy than he had realized, because this shower suddenly seemed like maybe the third-nicest thing that had ever happened to him.
Is this what a spa feels like? Is this why girls like the spa? Maybe I should make Maya bring me along next time Franziska takes her. Maybe I like spas now.
But as he washed suds out of his hair, Phoenix found his heart was beating faster and faster despite the lavender and warm-water haze. As pleasant as this was, he didn’t want to linger. He wanted Miles.
He toweled himself off, and brushed his teeth with the fresh toothbrush Miles had laid out for him—he was so thoughtful, so very caring, and god, Phoenix, get ahold of yourself, are you really getting sentimental over a toothbrush?!—and by the time he rinsed his mouth, he was sporting a respectable erection and a burning desire to kiss his wonderful, amazing, gorgeous, pain-in-the-ass boyfriend until neither of them could think straight.
Then he realized that he didn’t have any fresh clothes in the bathroom, and then he realized that he’d left his suitcase in the trunk of Miles’ car so there were no fresh clothes for him in this entire apartment, and finally debated wrapping himself in a towel before deciding ‘fuck it’ and walked out of the bathroom butt-ass naked with the intention of draping himself sexily on the bed like a scruffy cupid.
—But Miles was already on the bed.
—Miles was already on the bed, hips canted invitingly and one long leg draped elegantly across the other—
—Miles was—Miles was—
Phoenix’s brain short-circuited.
“…Hello, love.” Miles glanced down, blushing furiously.
Phoenix gaped at him.
Miles’ eyes flicked to his face, clearly nervous, then away; Phoenix rallied, desperate not to ruin this moment.
Miles was wearing lingerie.
Miles was wearing lingerie, the same cherry-red as his courtroom suit, and the delicate lace and graceful straps framed his beautiful form like it was made for him. The fabric stood out like fire against his smooth, pale skin, except where it matched the vibrant flush painting his cheeks and throat. The top piece fit against his wide shoulders and nested beneath his defined pectorals, nipples just barely peeking through; the lower pieces caged him waist-to-thighs in a garter-belt and panties that accentuated his slim hips and barely contained the swell of his cock.
Phoenix, an artist at heart, wanted to fall to his knees and paint. He wanted to capture this image in oil and horsehair, frame it in gold; he wanted to hang it in a gallery for the world to admire; he wanted to drape it in satin and keep it hidden away for his eyes and worship alone.
What he said was, “My god, Miles.”
What he did was cross to the bed in two strides, and gather the other man into his arms, and finally—finally!—press their mouths together like he’d wanted to do since that cold morning in December when they’d said goodbye. He kissed Miles like he was coming home; poured all his love and joy and longing into it, and hoped Miles understood.
Miles gasped into his mouth, then surged against him, arms wrapping around his neck and tangling their legs together; Phoenix caught his breath at the slide of lace against his bare skin. He licked into Miles’ mouth, desperate to taste him; Miles parted his lips, smiling even as they kissed. His breath was minty and clean, but still his, and Phoenix felt himself drowning in that familiar taste.
“Miles.” He could barely breathe, didn’t want to; talking meant he had to stop kissing Miles, but he had to say this. “I missed you so much.”
“Phoenix,” Miles whispered in his ear, his voice a thin thread of a thing. “Phoenix.”
“I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Phoenix hugged him tighter, heart hammering as he kissed Miles’ jaw and neck and throat; Miles’ arms squeezed around him until it hurt, his face buried in Phoenix’s damp hair. For a long moment they just held each other, so desperately happy to be close that any movement felt profane. But Phoenix had a lot of kisses that he’d been saving up, and he intended to deliver every single one of them.
“Miles—mmh—fuck—mm—you’re beautiful, you’re so beautiful—mff—I missed you, fuck, I missed you so much—”
“Oh, Phoenix, oh—mmh!—I’ve missed you terribly—mmf—you have no idea, how—ah!—how I’ve wanted you!”
“Oh, I’ve got an idea, alright,” Phoenix growled into his mouth. “I’ve been counting the days, Miles.”
“The hours,” Miles moaned in agreement, nipping at his lips. “I have been dreadfully distracted by thoughts of you!”
“Three months,” hissed Phoenix, his voice hateful on the words. “Three months and I haven’t gone a damn minute without missing you. Do you understand me, Miles? Do you understand how goddamn much I love you? God you’re beautiful! God it feels good to have you back where you belong!”
“Underneath you?” quipped Miles, rocking his hips until Phoenix bit back a curse, his own hips stuttering.
“In my arms, but sure, that works too!” Phoenix sealed their mouths together again, his heart hammering so hard it rattled in his throat. Fuck, fuck, this was perfect, this was everything he had wanted for the past three months, this was filling the gaping hole in his heart that opened whenever they were apart, even before they were together, it had always been Miles and Miles and Miles—
Miles keened into his mouth, hands gripping the hair at the back of his neck so hard it hurt. “Phoenix!”
“What do you want tonight?” Phoenix asked him, gasping, between kisses. “How do you—what should I—fuck!” He dropped his head to Miles’ chest, feeling lightheaded. “God, Miles, where did you even get this?”
Miles blinked, then blushed again. “Do…do you like it?”
“Holy shit Miles—I can’t even words right now. Yes I like it! Holy god!”
“Really?”
“Miles, can you not feel my cock right now? I’m so hard I think I could dent metal.”
“Indeed,” the prosecutor purred, looking pleased. “I’m glad the surprise was a pleasant one.”
“You! You are going to kill me,” vowed Phoenix, grinding their cocks together through the lace of Miles’ panties until they both moaned. “Holy shit love.”
“Nnghh—!” Miles squirmed attractively, and Phoenix took the opportunity to suck another hickey into his throat. “Well, in answer to your—hnng—earlier question, I want you to do whatever unspeakable things your heart desires, and I—I want your eyes on me all night.”
Phoenix caught his breath. “Seriously? But I thought…”
“I have been working on it,” said Miles primly. “And I have decided that I rather like having you, er—”
“Ogle you?” tried Phoenix hopefully.
“…Indeed. I cannot deny that I found your gaze…erotic, despite my own reservations. I cannot promise a complete reversal of my previous hesitations, but…I want to try.”
“Wow,” said Phoenix, and kissed him thoroughly. “In that case—thank you. This is—wow. This is my favorite. You all wrapped up like a present, just for me. Fuck.” He nuzzled into Miles’ neck, feeling so drunk on love that he might as well be dreaming. “I know we didn’t before, but I still want to ask—should I grab a condom? I brought some just in case. I swear I haven’t been with anybody else, but it’s up to you.”
“Phoenix.” Miles drew back so that Phoenix could see his eyes, knife-silver and intense. “I have not had any additional partners—nor do I intend to. Do you wish to use protection?”
“No,” said Phoenix honestly, stroking gently down his side. “But I wanted to be a gentleman, anyway.”
“Good. The idea of using a barrier with you is…repugnant to me.” Miles’ voice quivered with emotion. “I want to feel you directly. I need…I need your heat inside of me. I need you, tonight and every night.”
Phoenix felt so much blood rush southward that he nearly passed out. “Miles,” he moaned, half-incoherent with love. “I’m yours.”
“Yours,” echoed the prosecutor, his hands carding down Phoenix’s back. “Yours, Phoenix.”
They separated for the barest fraction of a moment—long enough for Miles to grab the lube from a nightstand and shove it into Phoenix’s hand while pressing a burning kiss to his lips—and then they were crashing together again, kissing like it was the first time all over again. Phoenix dragged in breath after breath of Miles’ scent, lavender and wine and clean sweat and that unique musk that was all his, like it was the cure to everything that had ever gone wrong in his entire life. Miles, Miles, Miles. Do you have any idea? Do you even know how much I love you? You can’t—you can’t possibly. I feel like I’m dying every moment I’m apart from you. It’s you and only you and there’s nothing else in the entire world that I want except to be yours.
Miles writhed in his arms and nipped at his pulse point, panting, grey eyes glazed with want; his hands carded greedily through Phoenix’s hair, his legs wrapped possessively around Phoenix’s own. His skin was intoxicatingly smooth, and some half-conscious part of Phoenix’s brain realized he must have shaved, which just drove him even more insane with lust. Miles had done all this for him, just for him, because he wanted Phoenix, wanted Phoenix to see him, to feel him—fuck—!
Phoenix snaked one hand down Miles’ gorgeous body, teasing and groping, until he reached those exquisite lace panties—and moved to pull them aside. But instead he felt bare skin just past the fabric, and pulled back in delighted curiosity. Miles, looking thoroughly rumpled, quirked an eyebrow at him; then squawked in surprise as Phoenix slung both the prosecutor’s legs over his shoulders in one fluid movement.
Bared before him was Miles’ gorgeous, plump ass, framed by crotchless straps. The crimson ruffles instead framed the perfect swell of muscle, an absolute invitation with no barrier to entry.
Holy shit.
'Can accommodate multiple roles,’ indeed. Miles, you minx.
“Holy shit,” said Phoenix, and dove in for some distinctly private kisses. Miles squirmed beneath his tongue, and his protests quickly devolved into begging.
“Phoenix—ngghhk!—Phoenix, damn you, stop teasing—!”
“You think this is teasing?” growled Phoenix, overjoyed and ruthless. “I’ll show you teasing, love—!”
“Not—not tonight—hnng!—please, Phoenix, I need you!”
Well, he’d never been able to deny Miles Edgeworth anything. Phoenix slicked his fingers with lube and slid two into Miles’ hole at once, his heart swelling at the gloriously tight stretch. Miles whimpered beneath him; his hips bucked into Phoenix’s hand, demanding more, trying to push him deeper.
“Baby,” gasped Phoenix, panting against Miles’ thigh, so turned on he thought he might be going cross-eyed, “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect. So ready for me—”
“Did—did I not say—I needed you?” Miles demanded, his voice strained as Phoenix scissored into him. “You should—hff—pay more attention when I speak, Wright!”
“Oh, yeah?” Phoenix felt a grin spreading across his face, and let Miles see his teeth. “Well, in that case, Edgeworth—let’s tango.”
“I’d like to see you tryyyYYYY!” Miles threw back his head and wailed as Phoenix slid a third finger inside, pressing directly against his prostate. Phoenix sucked a hickey into the other man’s muscular thigh, feeling distinctly smug. Those two weeks of mapping Miles’ body back in December had certainly paid off; his fingers moved with the certainty of long practice despite the ensuing months. He rolled his knuckles like the prelude to a card trick, and Miles writhed on his hand, clutching at his back.
“Fuck, babe, you like that?” Phoenix cooed, fingertips dancing relentlessly. Miles was panting beneath him, eyes glassy and half-lidded. “You want more? You want my big cock to stretch you open?”
Miles blinked, whined; then blinked again, clarity flooding back into his eyes. His brow furrowed. “What, Wright?”
Phoenix grinned at him. “Sorry—figured I’d try something different. No good?”
Miles looked a little befuddled. “I—I mean, yes, obviously, I suppose, but that’s rather crude.”
“Bummer. We’ll work on it.” Phoenix kissed him, his fingers flickering inside that tight heat.
“Don’t flatter yourseeellLFFF!” Miles’ hips jerked, grinding down onto Phoenix’s palm with demanding force. “Phoenix, damn you, I’m ready, I’m ready!”
Well, teasing was fun, but Phoenix was only human. He kissed Miles’s belly, deep and soft, as he slicked himself up with his free hand; then prowled slowly up the length of his body until they were aligned. Miles caught his breath at the press of Phoenix’s cock against his entrance, and Phoenix could feel the muscle fluttering beneath him. He took a breath, but before he could speak, Miles had grabbed him by the hair and yanked him down into a brutal, burning kiss. His powerful thighs flexed around Phoenix, his hips canting, and he impaled himself on Phoenix’s cock in one swift, brutal stroke.
Phoenix bucked into him immediately, unable to control himself. He slid deep, deep, and suddenly there was no more space between them and his groin was pressed flush to Miles’ ass and they were together, together, fuck, fuck, holy fuck, yes yes finally YES!
Miles whimpered into their kiss, breath ragged; Phoenix kissed him back desperately, whining into his mouth as the sudden blinding pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. His hips stuttered in another messy thrust, cock dragging against Miles’s prostate, and they both moaned at the sensation. Miles clutched at him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other dragging fingernails down his back. Phoenix adored those stinging scratches; loved seeing the evidence in the mirror later—evidence that he’d driven the prim and proper prosecutor absolutely wild. Feral. He drove in again, kissing Miles until he felt lightheaded for lack of air.
Miles, for his part, had his ankles locked together behind Phoenix’s ass, pulling him closer, closer; Phoenix, driven wordless by pleasure, absolutely concurred. Miles was tight, so goddamn tight, and warm, and fuck, it was pure bliss inside him. He thrust forward in a deep, demanding rhythm, giving into the fire between them; Miles clenched around him and dug his fingers into Phoenix’s hair. Phoenix dragged one hand down the prosecutor’s body, teasing at the ruffled straps and digging possessive bruises into his hip.
Miles gasped and whined and panted beneath him, and Phoenix branded each sound into his heart for later playback and appreciation. He traced kisses down Miles’ chest, plucking the bra-strap between his teeth and letting the prosecutor see the desire in his eyes; he rolled a nipple with the pad of his thumb and bit back a curse as Miles clenched around his cock. As beautiful as Miles was like this, though—and god, god he was beautiful, how could any mortal man be this beautiful?!—Phoenix was weak, and he only wanted one thing. He pulled the other man close and kissed him with all the fervor of a decade’s worth of frustrated love, and Miles kissed him back with so much restrained ferocity it left them both breathless.
Fuck fuck fuck not gonna last—! Phoenix tried to control the frantic thrusting of his hips, but it was hopeless; Miles canted his pelvis to take every shudder and jolt, both their bodies moving together in wordless joy. The crimson lace of Miles’ outfit scraped tantalizingly against Phoenix’s skin and reminded him, every moment, of the absolute gift of Miles’ body—this perfect present being offered to him—and drove him half-wild with lust. He lifted Miles’ hips off the bed, guiding his spine into a deeper bow; Miles gripped his body like an anchor, voice plaintive. “Phoenix—aahh, aaahhhh!”
“Miles,” Phoenix gasped, and the name was a vow of devotion. “Miles, fuck, you feel so good!”
“Phoenixxx!” cried Miles’s voice in his ear, and it was the most beautiful his name had ever sounded. “Please, Phoenix! Please please please—”
I love you, I love you, I love you. Phoenix didn’t know how else to prove it except this. His body moving against Miles,’ nearly insensate with pleasure; sweat and closeness and trust and love and joy, joy, joy, joy.
Miles, I love you forever.
Please know that.
I love you forever. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Please, please wait for me and I’ll prove it. I’ll prove it somehow. Please, fuck, god, I love you forever and forever and forever—! Phoenix gasped, bucking into him as Miles shifted his hips in a devastating new pattern.
Fuck, he moves like a dancer! Since when does he move like a dancer?! Phoenix groaned into Miles’ neck, sucking bruises into his throat, high on pheromones and dizzy with adoration. Miles bit roughly at him, making Phoenix hiss; his hands carded down Phoenix’s sides until his was gripping at his ass, pulling him even closer.
“Mine,” Miles panted against him, his voice a courtroom-certain snarl; “Mine, Phoenix, you’re mine—!”
“—Yours, only yours, yes yesyesyes—!”
“—Love you, Phoenix, missed you love you aaAAHhhh—!”
“—Love you Miles Miles love you FUCK love you Miiiles—!”
“—Phoenix, mine, Phoenix, love you love you MINE—!”
Phoenix felt like he was floating in some kind of liminal haze, his whole body incandescent with happiness. Surely this couldn’t be normal. Surely this went beyond love and through to some kind of cosmic destiny; he’d thought he been in love before, he’d swear it, and yet nothing compared; nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing had ever felt as right and true and perfect as Miles Edgeworth moving against him like they were made to fit together. Like they belonged together in every way there was. He thrust in deep, and Miles’ inner walls were fluttering and pulsing and sucking him in; another thrust and he knew he was almost to the edge.
“I’m close,” he gasped against Miles’ mouth, tears of overstimulation pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck, Miles—baby, love you, fuck, I’m close!”
“Yesyesyesyes—” Miles’ voice was low, his eyes shut tight as he shuddered in Phoenix’s arms. “—yesyesyes please I want it I want it yesyesyes PHOENIX please yes—!”
Well, he’d never been able to deny Miles Edgeworth anything, after all. Phoenix clutched the other man close and felt his orgasm crash over him. His hips jerked and stuttered, overwhelmed by sensation; his heart roared with possessive love as he pumped Miles full in pulse after pulse after pulse.
Beneath him, Miles moaned in pleasure and victory; his legs tightened around Phoenix and then he was coming too, gasping and kissing at Phoenix’s jaw as his own cock throbbed and twitched, his muscles clenching around Phoenix to milk him dry. Fuck fuck fuck—! Phoenix bucked into him, oversensitive; Miles flinched and whined against him, dragging in breath after gasping breath against his cheek. Inside him was warm and tight and wet and full and fuck, fuck, Phoenix didn’t want this to be over; he wasn’t nearly done worshiping Miles’ body. Wasn’t nearly done making him feel good. Wasn’t nearly done branding his love onto every single inch of Miles’ stunning, gorgeous, goddamn gift-wrapped form.
He kissed the prosecutor, deep and open-mouthed and thorough, then withdrew; both of them winced as his softening cock pulled free in a warm gush of liquid. Miles whined and squirmed beneath him and Phoenix’s heart nearly exploded with fondness as he tangled their legs together. He rubbed soothingly at Miles’ waist, fingers sliding beneath the red lace to massage his skin. Miles shifted, nearly purring at the attention; Phoenix snapped a crimson bra-strap with his teeth and grinned at the sharp-eyed glare that was leveled his way.
“Hey, babe.”
“…hello, Wright. Am I allowed no post-coital peace?”
“Oh, sure,” said Phoenix, so in love he was pretty sure he would die. “You can have all the post-coital peace you want. When I’m done with you.”
“Ooh?” Miles propped himself up on his elbows, a smirk spreading across his face even as he angled his hips to minimize the mess. “Do tell, Wright. Was that a mere prelude? How exciting.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Phoenix, leaning down to kiss him and then rolling over to stand up on wobbly legs. “Hang on—give me 5 minutes and a glass of water. I aim to have the shortest refractory period known to man. The night is young, babe, and I’m not nearly finished ravishing you.”
Miles shivered—shivered!—his eyes gleaming with delight. “Well—I look forward to reviewing your progress.”
Phoenix hooked him by one sinfully sexy garter strap, and drew his leg up to kiss along his smooth, pale thigh. “Ooh, a grading system for sex. My favorite.”
“You thrive under pressure, my dear.”
“I’ll give you pressure, baby.”
Miles licked his lips, and his eyes were sparks of grey thunder. “I certainly hope you will.” And Phoenix drew him forward until they were laughing into each other’s mouths, and Miles tasted like mint and lavender and he kissed like a sunbeam in the middle of winter.
Outside, the Munich wind battered cold against the shutters, and the city was quiet, and—at least for a little while—Phoenix Wright was finally home.