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Mydei wiped his mouth with the back of a bare hand. His gauntlets had been taken off sometime in the middle of their drinking. It was odd to see his hands bared, see the blue veins at his naked wrists; he almost looked vulnerable.
“What?” Mydei said when he noticed the eyes on him.
Phainon smiled warmly at him. “Mhm. Nothing.”
Mydei raised an eyebrow. “You're a curious one, Deliverer.”
“I hope that's a compliment?”
Mydei scoffed. “Take it as you will.” And then picking back up his goblet, he took a hefty swig of his wine. Phainon was, admittedly, impressed.
Leisurely sipping from his own cup, Phainon let his gaze roam about. Streams of light flowed gently from the open doors of the balcony, the wall-mounted torches painting the places where the light of Kephale couldn't reach in yellows and oranges, and birdsong could be heard in the distance. They were tucked away in one of the private rooms of the baths, ostensibly so he could recover from their challenge. In actuality, Mydei had wanted them to have a drink. ‘For old times' sake’ as he had put it.
Usually around this time—Action Hour if he wasn't mistaken—he and Mydei would each either be absorbed with their own tasks or if time allowed, sparring. Their spars usually ending in a draw. (It was a remarkable feeling to have finally met his match.)
“Tell me, Deliverer, what exactly did you see?” asked Mydei. His voice was deep and contemplating. There was no slur in it despite the amount of honey wine he had already consumed.
Phainon’s gaze slid over to him. “Nothing good,” he said quietly.
Mydei made a gesture with one hand as if to say go on. So, Phainon did. It was gruesome to be reminded of what had transpired before Mydei and the others had found him but a weight left his chest the more words kept spilling out of his mouth.
Afterwards, he posed a question of his own.
“What about you?”
Mydei stared at him mutely, seemingly pondering something. Phainon met the intense, gilded gaze evenly.
A small eternity passed before Mydei blinked with a frown. Still saying nothing, he looked down at his empty goblet, and filling it up again, chugged a mouthful.
“You should slow down.”
“Mhm.”
Changing the subject out of consideration, Phainon said, “What will you do after your trial?”
“If I even triumph.”
“You will,” Phainon said firmly.
The corners of Mydei's mouth quirked up. A strange heat washed over Phainon at the sight. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Mydeimos the Undying smile; but there was just something about it he couldn't quite put his finger on. It left his palms sweating and a strange dryness clogging his throat. Phainon took a hasty swallow of his mead.
Mydei twirled his goblet, stared at its contents as if he was seeking the answers to life’s endless mysteries. He put it down on the round table beside the nearly-empty pitcher of wine and fixed Phainon with a look he couldn't read.
“Is talking all you're good for?” Mydei's voice dropped an octave, shifting into something low and molten. Phainon tamped down a shiver.
“Pardon?”
Mydei couldn't be alluding to what he thought he was. Could he? Surely not. Definitely not.
Mydei's arms folded over the broad expense of his chest. He leaned slightly back on his padded seat. His legs dropped open and the sight was very nearly obscene.
Phainon felt like all the wine had gone to his head. He couldn't take his eyes off of him; didn't know where to even look. The cup in his hand would have fallen and spilled all of its contents had he not had the reflexes he did and hastily set it down.
“Uh.” Sweat at his nape. An overwhelming urge to move—to do something. “What are you suggesting…?”
The rise of one single, elegant eyebrow was his answer.
Right.
The thing was—the Flame-Chase Journey took up all his time and then there was training to get stronger so when the time came he wouldn't falter and lose everything again. That didn't leave room for much more. Mostly. Usually.
A thought came to him—one he had the first time he had laid eyes on the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos and fought him to a draw and many times thenceforth—
Mydei was beautiful.
Phainon stood up. He rounded the table in two strides and one hand came up to tip Mydei's head back. Their eyes met. Effervescent gold unlike anything he had ever seen glinted with challenge.
“Well?” Mydei asked. His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheekbones when he blinked. There was no hesitation or doubt in his gaze. He was always steadfast and unwavering; another thing Phainon deeply admired about him. Brave, beautiful Mydeimos.
Phainon smiled down at him. “Mydei. Have I told you yet that your ideas are brilliant?”
Mydei merely scoffed at him. The black of his pupils was slowly overtaking the lucent gold of his eyes. Up close like this, Phainon could smell him: the iron tang of blood, something sweet and earthy that reminded him of the seeds of a pomegranate and beneath that, a scent that was uniquely Mydei. He greedily breathed him in.
“Get on with it.”
Phainon's hand fell to the small braid curled at the base of Mydei's neck, bouncing it in his hand once. “Can't I take my time?” he teased.
“Remind me who had won our last bout again?”
“Hm, that won't happen again,” he told Mydei and before he could rebuke him, Phainon swooped down and kissed him.
Mydei's plush mouth yielded easily like he never once did when they fought or challenged each other to ridiculous things. Phainon’s hand migrated to the curve of Mydei's neck, just resting—and Mydei allowed it. Phainon kissed him deeper in gratitude, tasting the wine and the matching desire on his breath. Mydei's lips parted for him, and when their tongues touched Phainon swore he felt sparks racing down his spine.
When in need of breathing, Phainon slowly drew back.
Mydei's hands had come up to hold him as they kissed and now fell back. He had long, slender fingers, and like everything else, they were unscarred. Another effect of Mydei's immortality: he never scarred. Phainon wondered what a Mydei with scars would look like. Undoubtedly, still able to steal his breath. (And indubitably, he would have been marked by Phainon's sword when he had saved him from himself. He was both deeply relieved he wasn't and slightly, guiltily disappointed.)
“Surely that isn't all?” There was a flush high on Mydei's cheeks. Phainon stifled a groan and dived down again. It was an uncomfortable angle for his neck but he couldn't keep away. He felt drunk. He felt sort of delirious as if high with fever or still suffering through the effects of his ill-advised challenge in the baths.
A moment later, Mydei's hands came to his belly, gently pushing. Phainon went, reluctant. Mydei rose. The gold in his eyes was nearly imperceptible, swallowed by black. He moved with purpose as he guided Phainon backwards until Phainon's back hit a wall. Then, gracefully, he slid to his knees. Phainon nearly whimpered at the sight.
“Mydei—,” he began, unsure of what he even wanted to say.
“Shh,” Mydei interrupted, “let me.”
Phainon's head bobbed in a nod.
Permission granted, Mydei’s large, deft hands undid his buckles and tugged at his pants at a leisurely, agonizing pace. Phainon squeezed his eyes shut. Knocked his head back to the wall. The light chill of the room hit him as his thighs were uncovered; Mydei's hot breath on him made everything startlingly real as he drew nearer. His underclothes grew stifling the longer he stood waiting.
There was a low hum, almost a chuckle. “You seem eager.”
Phainon made an unintelligible noise in answer. Sucking in a breath, he opened his eyes and looked down.
Mydei's mouth stole all his attention, full and wet and red from their kisses. Phainon's own mouth tingled in remembrance.
Mydei's palms caressed the outside of his thighs all the way up to his hips; slowly, tortuously, he began pulling Phainon's underclothes down.
Phainon sighed in relief when he was freed—and then had to bite his tongue to hold in the loud groan that wanted to escape as Mydei chose that moment to take him fully into his mouth without warning.
Kephale help him.
Mydei's mouth was a hot furnace inside, scattering away any other thoughts Phainon might have conjured up. He didn't waste any time, his head moving rhythmally up and down as he suckled at him.
Sweat quickly beaded at his temples in rivulets. His heart was thundering hard inside his chest. His breaths left him quick and shallow as Mydei’s mouth worked on him so expertly, getting him harder until he was all the way erect. Phainon brought one shaky hand to his head, running his fingers through the yellow-red locks, and hesitating. Mydei made an encouraging noise. Phainon's hand tightened until he had a fistful and then he took over the pace, using Mydei's mouth roughly. The hand not buried in Mydei's hair clawed at the wall behind him for purchase. The muscles in his thighs twitched. He had the fleeting, wandering thought of Mydei doesn't have a choking reflex before that too was swept away by the rushing current of desire.
He had to close his eyes again lest he come too soon and embarrass himself. (Mydei would have never let him live it down. And then he’d proceed to make a competition out of it.)
Mydei's large hands were at the tops of his thighs, holding him steady against the wall while his mouth did wonderful things to him. It was better than using his own fist, better than anything he'd ever had before. Mydei's name kept falling from his mouth in little pants and gasps, entirely too loud for where they were but Phainon couldn't bring himself to care a bit.
When he felt the peak coming, he eased up with considerable effort. Opening his eyes, he lightly pulled at Mydei's hair. He said, “Slower,” in a nearly unrecognisable voice.
Mydei slackened his mouth, withdrew a little, and licked at the head of Phainon's cock with a hum. This time, much to his embarrassment, Phainon did whimper. Mydei's dark, glazed eyes jumped to him. The corners of his occupied mouth twisted slightly upwards. Phainon huffed. Tugging at the bundle of silklike hair in his fist, he made an impatient noise to which Mydei answered by drawing closer and moving his mouth until the whole length was back inside.
His head fell back, thumping against the wall; he tipped his cheek sideways, looking unseeingly at the pale, distant blue of the sky outside.
Good Gods, he swore drunkenly, Mydei's mouth must be magic.
It didn't take much after that; even if he wished to last longer, it was nearly impossible with how heavenly it felt to be serviced by Mydei's glorious mouth.
He bit his lip hard when he came. A choked-off sound still escaped.
Astonished, he watched, felt, as Mydei swallowed everything he gave.
Pulling out when he was done, Mydei wiped at his mouth. “Mhm. I've tasted worse.” His voice was choppy, nearly hoarse.
Phainon wheezed. “That right?”
Mydei chuckled lowly, and stood up with the graceful ease of a lion as if he hadn't been down on his knees for quite a while. He was such a vision at any moment of any day but with his face flushed, his mouth swollen and red, his eyes dark and wild, and his hair in disarray he was the very picture of allure. Mnestia blessed, thought Phainon half-deliriously.
With shaking hands, Phainon pulled up his pants, redid his buckles. Taking Mydei by the waist, he spun them around.
“Allow me to return the favour.”
Mydei’s eyes sparkled. “Do whatever you want.”
He fumbled a hand inside Mydei's trousers, grasping his hot, hard length, and tugged at it once to the sound of Mydei's ragged gasp. Burying his face in Mydei's lovely neck and leaving hungry kisses on the perfect, painted skin, he moved his palm up and down, twisting his wrist when he reached the head.
“Next time,” he mumbled in the hollow of Mydei's neck. Not knowing that next time would take a very long time.
“Next time?”
He hummed. “Mhm. Next time I'd like to treat you a bit better than this.”
“Ah, ha.” A breathy laugh. “Is that so, Deliverer?”
“Would it kill you to call me by name while we're being intimate?”
Mydei didn't say anything for a long moment. Then in a lower timbre that induced shivers:
“Phainon. Get on with it.”
Phainon screwed his eyes shut when his spent dick tried to rise again and did as told. He pressed himself as close as he could while still leaving room for his hand. Speeded up when Mydei let out little frustrated noises. Kissed his way up to Mydei's jaw, his mouth. Eating up all of his sweet sounds.
Next time, he would also like to use his mouth but for now, this would do. They didn't have as much time as he'd like.
With a few more pulls and a thumb dragging over the head, Mydei came with a low, throaty groan. Phainon moved back just in time to watch as his face twisted with pleasure; his head tipped back, his eyelashes fluttering, his mouth parted and the muscles of his neck pulling tight.
Gently extracting his hand, Phainon moved nearer again, couldn't help it. They stood like that, breathing each other’s air for some time.
“You're going to go back home when you defeat Nikador won't you?”
No answer for a long moment. The birds outside had stopped chirping at some point while they'd been preoccupied, and the only thing that filled the silence was their breaths. Phainon idly stroked down the naked skin of Mydei's back with his clean hand, content to stay glued to him by a random wall for the foreseeable future.
Then, in a quiet voice, Mydei said, “This duty, I alone can bear.”
Phainon shut his eyes, breathed in shakily. “Don't die on us, Mydeimos.”
“The same to you, hero.”
He swallowed the I'll miss you on the tip of his tongue, instead twisting his head to the side and capturing Mydei's mouth in another kiss. He hoped it was enough. It would have to be enough.