Archive of Our Own

Miles hurried across the pavement as quickly as the rain allowed. It fancied itself a waterfall, beating down on his umbrella with a vengeance, making it impossible to see more than a couple meters ahead. Drove vehicle operators mad, too, it would seem- he nearly slipped crossing the street when someone’s driving violation caused a wave of loud honking. Ears ringing, barely having escaped a very unpleasant turn of events, he finally made it to his destination.

The bar wasn’t full despite the late hour- or perhaps ten at night wasn’t late by bar standards?-, allowing him to spot Phoenix on his first sweep of the place. His stomach roiled with unease when he noticed the half-empty bottle at Phoenix’s elbow. Getting a closer look didn't make him feel any better- whatever was in it was strong enough that Miles could smell it an arm’s length away.

“Good evening, Wright.” He greeted as he sat across the man, settling his briefcase in his lap and his closed umbrella against the wall.

“Evening.” Phoenix didn’t sound drunk, thank the stars, but he didn’t sound altogether himself either. There was an edge to his voice that Miles couldn’t place, unusual and disquieting.

“I thought our meeting wasn’t until fifteen past ten.”

“Decided to get an early start, as you can see.” Phoenix motioned to the bottle, then picked it up to top off the glass in front of him. Rather than take a drink himself, he slid it across the table. “Try some.”

Miles glanced at the honey-coloured liquid, back at Phoenix to find that he was being studied. Unreadable eyes traced the lines of his face, his cravat, his shoulders, before they circled back around to his face, this time accompanied by a smile. It had an edge to it, too, that same strange edge as his voice, and so Miles wasn’t completely taken aback when Phoenix reached an arm out.

Afraid that Phoenix was going to do something bizarre like pinch his cheek, Miles reflexively ducked his head. However, Phoenix only caught the ends of his bangs and rubbed them between his fingers. “Have you noticed that they curl every time it rains?” He let go of them with a flick, retracting his arm. “Cute.”

Face burning, Miles curled his fingers around the crystal glass and threw the contents back. It was a horrible idea- even the strong smell of it hadn’t prepared him for the dreadful taste that was more a feeling of fire shooting down his throat than an ingredient he could name. The glass made it back to the table in one piece on pure instinct- Miles was past the point of noticing or caring. He was too busy coughing and choking and trying to stop himself from doing both to pay attention to anything else.

“Have as much as you like, it’s on me.” Phoenix said, clearly amused, once Miles had gotten his bearings back enough to process words. Miles glared at him, and he had the gall to chuckle. “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t make you drink it. I definitely didn’t expect you to down the whole thing- I know you can’t handle your alcohol.”

“I didn’t expect you to be drinking that- that cleaning fluid.” Miles choked out, just barely managing not to cough again. “What happened to a sensible glass of wine?”

“Wine is for relaxation. Scotch-“ Phoenix poured a generous amount, licking the edge of the glass before he drank. “-is for getting absolutely wasted.”

It took Miles a moment to recover from the image of Phoenix’s tongue making contact with the phantom of Miles’s mouth, and the realization that they’d just shared an indirect kiss.  “I’m not here to get drunk with you, Wright.”

“Of course not, Edgeworth. You’re too proper to do something like that.”

Miles did his best to ignore the patronising tone as he opened his briefcase and slid a piece of paper to Phoenix. Despite his dismissive attitude, Phoenix was still curious enough that he lifted the list and read it. “What is this?”

“The members of the bar association. Or, if you will, the names of the people we will make our case to once we have it.” Miles leaned forward. “Your disbarment was unjust, Wright.”

“Was it?”

“I know you didn’t forge that evidence. You might be reckless and impulsive, but you’re not stupid.”

“You’ve called me an idiot dozens of times, to my face.”

Refusing to be sidetracked, Miles slapped his hands on the tabletop. “Someone framed you. We’ll find out who, and once we have shed light on the matter, you’ll get your badge back.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Phoenix had poured another glass, but he didn’t drink it, only swirled it around and stared as the turbulent surface caught the light. “I mean, you literally just said it yourself. Reckless and impulsive.” A drop of scotch escaped the whirlpool, splashing the back of Phoenix’s hand, sliding down his skin like a tear. “I chose to use that evidence without knowing where it had come from. If I’d done my due diligence, I never would’ve walked into the trap in the first place.”

“It was an expert forgery. How could you have known even if you’d checked?” Miles’s hands turned to fists. “And that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been unjustly punished.”

“But that’s not the point, is it?” Rather than rise to Miles’s challenge and get fired up as Miles had hoped he would, Phoenix continued the staring match with his drink. A new darkness was settling into the shadows of his face, the black of his eyes. “I could get my badge back, but it won’t fix the real problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Phoenix just shook his head and returned the list to Miles. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Wright-“

“I didn’t come here to ask for your help, Edgeworth. I’m not going to appeal the board’s decision.”

Shocked, Miles sat back, fists relaxing as his hands slid into his lap. “You’re- you’re giving up?” 

“I’m... going to handle this myself.” Phoenix looked off into the distance, glowering at something only he could see. The menace disappeared when he met Miles’s eyes, but the resolve remained. “It’s my life, my career. You all of people should understand wanting to be left to your business.”

If you’d left me to my business, I’d be dead at best, still punishing innocent people at worst. But Phoenix did have a point- it was his life, and if wanted to decide what to do going forward without anyone else butting in, that was his right. But then- “If you didn’t want my help, why did you agree to meet with me?”

As if put off by the reasonable question, Phoenix frowned. “I don’t know.” With his current mercurial mood, Miles half-expected him to continue along the lines of ‘I needed someone to pay the tab’, but instead he said, “I guess I wanted to see you.”

“If you wanted a drinking buddy, you should’ve asked Butz.” Miles said, keeping his voice even though his heart picked up its pace. Phoenix didn’t mean anything by it, so there was nothing to do but pretend it didn’t affect him. The man blurted out all sorts of things that made Miles want to pass out even when he hadn’t drunk half a bottle of scotch- Miles was used to the routine by that point.

“If I wanted a drinking buddy, I would’ve asked anyone but the biggest lightweight in the district.” That peculiar darkness had lifted now that they’d stopped talking about the disbarment, and Phoenix’s small smile returned. “I hope you didn’t drive here.”

“I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

“You couldn’t handle half a glass of whiskey.”

That felt like a challenge- or maybe it wasn’t, and the scotch really had already gone to Miles’s head. Since it would be proof that Phoenix was right, the thought only served to spur Miles on as he stole the glass and took a sip. Predictably, he started coughing into it.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop needling you. Let’s order you something you’ll enjoy.” Phoenix tried to take the glass back, but Miles jerked it out of reach.

“Don’t underestimate me, Wright.” Steeling his stomach, Miles downed the rest of the drink in two decisive gulps, seeing as that seemed like the only way to consume it.

“No, seriously, you’ll make yourself sick.” Phoenix confiscated the offender, pulling it out of Miles’s reach. Miles didn’t even acknowledge the movement, too busy waiting for the pain to simmer down to a bearable level. “Remember New Year’s Eve?”

He did. He remembered one too many flutes of champagne that turned out to be stronger than he’d expected. He remembered bright lights and loud fireworks and Phoenix’s hand on his arm, leading him to the corner of the blessedly dark and quiet room next door. He remembered the sudden awareness of Phoenix’s space overlapping his own, the hitch in the other man’s breathing as the same realization hit him. He remembered leaning in, or Phoenix leaning in, of sharing breath and shaking with the closeness and begging every deity he could think of to give him strength to push Phoenix away to pull him in-

And he remembered the sudden wave of nausea, so vicious that he’d barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up the entire contents of his stomach. He’d been so weak with it that he had let Phoenix hold his bangs back and cool his forehead with a wet towel afterwards like a child.

“I remember.” Unbidden, his eyes flicked to Phoenix’s lips. Cursing his wandering mind, he busied himself with returning the abandoned list to his briefcase and patting it closed. When a hand covered his on the smooth leather, he froze, struggling to string words together. “What are you doing, Wright?”

“I don’t know.” Phoenix sat back, not letting go of Miles’s hand so that the joint pair ended up in the middle of the table. Miles stared at them as if they were an alien artefact, only jerked out of his shock when Phoenix’s voice lured his gaze up like a siren’s song. “You asked why I came here.”

“You’ve answered me already.”

“Not really.” Phoenix played with Miles’s fingers absentmindedly. Miles kept them limp like one would when handling an unknown insect, unsure whether or not the animal would sting if startled. “I didn’t plan on it, to be honest. I’m sick of the pitying looks and the outraged sympathy.”

Miles frowned. “I don’t pity you.”

“I know. But you’d want to make things right, and I’m... I just don’t...” Because he’d been unable to put things into words a million times in his life, Miles waited while Phoenix struggled to do so. “I’m so angry.”

“I see.” Miles said, and in a way he did. So much- too much- of his prosecuting career had been led by anger he’d convinced himself was the only emotion to lead to justice. He’d needed it when the emptiness had threatened to swallow him whole after his father’s death, and had had a really hard time loosening his grip on it in subsequent years. Until Phoenix had laid DL-6 to rest, at least- after that, everything was just a little easier.

“I didn’t plan on returning your call. And when I did, I was sure I’d text you to cancel. But I ended up coming here regardless.” Raising their intertwined hands, Phoenix pressed his forehead to Miles’s knuckles, hiding his face. “I don’t know why I did. I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do with my life, or with my- my new responsibilities. But there was this nagging voice in my head insisting that I should see you even though you’d try to drag me out of my mess, and then you come in with that adorable hair and ridiculous face...”

“I think you might be drunk, Wright.” Miles choked out, for lack of anything else he could scrounge up.

Phoenix gave him an unimpressed look. “I had a stupid amount of scotch. Of course I’m drunk. I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t.” As if Miles could forget the hand holding, Phoenix rubbed circles into Miles’s palm to indicate the contact. “Or I guess you wouldn’t allow it if you weren’t. You don’t like it when I touch you.”

“Well, that’s not- I-“ Thrown off balance, Miles couldn’t immediately think of a rebuttal. The alcohol wasn’t doing him any favours, either – he really should’ve abstained from that second helping. “Objection!”

Phoenix snickered. “Excuse me? We’re not in court.”

Maybe not, but it was where Miles was at his best- eloquent, composed, fully in his element. “You can’t know how I feel when you touch me. You have no evidence to back up your claim.”

“So you’re saying you do like it?” Phoenix’s free hand brushed up Miles’s arm, too light to feel through the three layers Miles was wearing, but nonetheless eliciting a shiver. “And here I thought pulling away every time I try to offer a hug or stand near you was self-explanatory.”

Miles fell quiet, fingers spasming in Phoenix’s. “I’m... Not like you, Wright. Not like you, plural. Not... normal.”

“No one’s normal, I don’t think.”

Miles glared. “Don’t give me that therapist nonsense. You don’t overthink everything you do when you spend time with friends, and- and prepare likely scenarios so you know how to react, and dissect every minute failure when something you didn’t anticipate inevitably comes up and you say the wrong thing. You dole out affection without a care- hugging, and brushing shoulders, and sharing a- a blanket, these don’t make you feel like you’re a changeling because you never know how to act when they happen.”

“Okay. But if you enjoy these things, it doesn’t really matter how you enjoy them. I don’t even think there’s a wrong way to do it.”

“There’s a wrong way to do everything. The fact that you don’t share this understanding explains a great deal.”

Phoenix considered him for a long moment, then leaned down and kissed Miles’s knuckles. “Then I don’t care if you do things wrong.”

“You can’t not care.”

“Says who? You?” Phoenix replaced his lips with teeth and bit him. Miles should’ve been appalled, but the only response he could give was a whimper. “Darling, if I listened to everything you said, we’d be in deep trouble.”

“Wright.” Miles repeated, strangled, the word darling echoing through his head. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Clearly not.”

Phoenix got up from his chair and rounded the table so he could sit on Miles’s edge of it. Scandalously close, very firmly in Miles’s space as his knee bumped Miles’s elbow.

“You can’t be that dense, Edgeworth. All those hours arguing in court, and it never crossed your mind that you might put that energy to a different use?” He sought out Miles’s face, thumbs caressing sharp cheekbones and the soft valleys below them. Ever so slowly he tilted Miles’s chin up and leaned down, giving Miles plenty of time to not move away. “Aren’t you tired of dancing around this?”

His lips were soft and slow, pressing against Miles’s almost chastely, asking a question. Miles had expected something possessive and demanding to match the sharp edge of Phoenix’s mood, but it was instead the most considerate kiss he’d ever had. Giving up the pretense, Miles tilted his head and opened his mouth, inviting Phoenix to do as he liked.

And with a satisfied noise Phoenix did, exploring with tongue and teeth until Miles moaned into his mouth, hands clutching at Phoenix’s jacket. It was that wanton sound that startled Miles out of the desire-induced delirium; all at once remembering that they were in public and too old to make such a scene, Miles abruptly moved away.

“Absolutely ridiculous.” Phoenix whispered, index finger following the path his eyes had made earlier in the evening, over temples and eyebrows, nose and mouth and chin.

“My face isn’t... ridiculous.” Miles breathed out, swatting away Phoenix’s hand, the touch too light for Miles to bear.

“It is. Stupid pretty.” Barred from caressing his face, Phoenix instead played with his bangs again, knuckles brushing his forehead. “Thankfully it’s accompanied by that vicious, sneering mouth, or I would have had a hell of a time concentrating during our cases.”

“Like you didn’t already.”

“There it is.” Phoenix rubbed the offending lips, then looked up. Prompted by whatever he saw, he jumped down from the table, pulling his wallet from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Come on.”

Miles stood up as well, haphazardly gathering his things, thrown off-kilter by the sudden hurry. “Come on where?”

But Phoenix was already weaving his way outside, handing a bill to the bartender as he passed by the bar, leaving Miles no choice but to follow.

“Wright, wait, the rain-“ Half-drunken briefcase juggling got in the way of opening the umbrella, so that by the time he had deserted the protection of the awning, Phoenix was already soaked all the way through. Not that he seemed to care that his hair was plastered to his face and jacket rendered useless, smiling as he blinked water out of his eyes.

Baffled and exasperated, Miles crossed the space between them to share his small, dry sanctuary. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“Relax, Edgeworth. Or are you carrying some very important documents in there that you’re afraid will get wet?” Phoenix asked, indicating Miles’s briefcase.

“Well, no, it’s merely copies of reports- Mmph.”

Phoenix captured his mouth with more ferocity than before, one hand resting over Miles’s on the handle of the umbrella, wet and slippery, the other at his waist. Cold from the rain and heat from Phoenix’s body worked in tandem to make Miles’s already spinning head spin harder, so that when they parted he could only stare at Phoenix in dazed silence.

“Good.” Phoenix whispered against his mouth, fingers moving over Miles’s. “I’d hate to ruin your hard work.”

A rush of freezing rain wrenched a gasp from Miles, muscles seizing in shock. His bangs blinded him before he could recover, and he was so busy dealing with them that it took him several seconds to figure out what had happened.

“Wright!”

“Live a little!” Phoenix yelled, laughing and sprinting away with the umbrella closed and clutched to his chest.

Miles instinctively ran after him and nearly slipped. Of course he did- he didn’t have Phoenix’s luck, would more likely than not end up face down on the pavement if he wasn’t careful. Incensed but accepting the need for a more sedate pace, Miles continued on more slowly. Over the span of several minutes, he watched Phoenix stop and run, stop and run, always ahead of him but remaining within eyesight. To make sure that Miles could see him gloating, if Miles had to guess, though by that point the cold had set into Miles's bones and he could barely muster up a frown.

Phoenix finally came to a full stop in the nook of an apartment building. He was shifting from foot to foot as he waited, grinning like an unruly child that had got away with a prank.

“You are- the most- reckless- exasperating- lunatic-“ Miles poked Phoenix’s chest with each adjective, hunched over and trembling. “It’s freezing, Wright, what is wrong with you?!”

“You really are cold.” Phoenix cradled Miles’s hand in both of his, blowing a hot breath over the goosebumped skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up. Come on.”

“Stop saying that! You have to inform people of their destination before leading them there.” Miles griped as Phoenix dug a key chain from his pocket, unlocking the door and leading into a hallway that was, if at all possible, even colder. Despite his chastisement, Miles followed Phoenix up the stairs, clinging to the rail to avoid slipping on the tiles. “And stop pretending as though you’re immune to sickness merely because your head is apparently made of rock or other such resistant material. One of these days it won’t save you and you’ll get seriously hurt.”

Miles found himself pulled in for a quick kiss, followed by a peck to the tip of his nose that made him blush to his ears. “Thanks for worrying about me. It’s sweet.”

“You’re not listening to what I’m saying.”

“Okay, here we are.” Phoenix stopped in front of a simple door, browsing through his keys until he settled on one and turned it in the lock. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Miles sighed at being so shamelessly ignored- more fool the him for expecting maturity from someone so... immature. He went to follow Wright before his brain caught up to his surroundings. “This is your apartment.”

“Yes?” Phoenix paused as well, looking over his shoulder to where Miles stood frozen on the threshold. “Where did you think we were going?”

Miles surveyed the space, more orderly than he’d have expected but small enough that the years it had been lived in left it cluttered. It smelled vaguely like Wright’s office, except that the zest of floor cleaner mixed with the fresh, damp smell of drying laundry and the saltiness of whatever Phoenix cooked last.

“And why... did you bring me here?”

Phoenix’s face softened as he backtracked, taking hold of one of Miles’s hands to rub the cold, clammy skin. “Firstly to get you dry. Secondly to offer you to stay if you’d like, because you’re not driving and a taxi ride will take ages on a rainy Friday night. You could take the couch, or I’ll lend you the bed, or... We could do something more fun in it than sleeping, um, the both of us, together?”

Miles huffed a laugh, shoulders relaxing, as Phoenix cringed a bit at his stumbling words.

“But if you’d rather not, that’s fine. I didn’t drag you here to have sex or anything- we can just hang out and order pizza. There’s a totem of Steel Samurai DVDs over in the corner-“

Miles rushed forward and cut Phoenix off with a kiss. Phoenix’s hair was down from its spikes for once, longer than Miles had expected and plastered to his face like an ink waterfall. Miles tucked it behind his ears as he blindly pushed Phoenix backwards, vaguely aiming in the direction of where he assumed the bathroom to be.

Hands snuck under Miles’s clothes, pushing both coat and suit jacket off his shoulders at the same time. The heavy material stuck at his elbows, and Miles tripped as he tried to both free his arms and finish kicking off his shoes.

The wall caught both men with a thump. Phoenix grunted at the impact, and the cartoony sound made Miles giggle. Huffing through the laugh, he first toed off the remaining shoe, them shimmied out of the impromptu restraints.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” Phoenix evaded Miles’s attempt to continue the kiss, reversing their positions and studying Miles hesitantly. “You’re drunk.”

“It’s the SR- SSRIs reacting with the alcohol. I’m not actually drunk. No more than you, at least.” The sturdiness at his back would have been nice if not for the radiating cold making him shiver anew. “I don’t want to be coddled either. I know where I am. I know what I’m doing.”

“You do?” Adequately convinced, Phoenix renewed his efforts to get Miles out of his clothes, unbuttoning his waistcoat and shirt with more dexterity than Miles managed in turn. “You’ve done this before?”

There had been men in Germany, strangers and acquaintances, so few he could count them on one hand. They had sated his curiosity when he’d first had his sexuality crisis, scratched the itch the few times it got in the way of work, helped him push Phoenix Wright out of his mind when the thoughts consumed him. Men who didn’t know who he was or what he’d done, men who didn’t look at him like they could see every ugly corner of him and still wanted him around anyway. Men who didn’t make him sputter and laugh and sigh in exasperation until his lungs were drained.

With them, sex had been a vaguely satisfactory if messy affair, mostly avoided because other things took precedence. An orderly affair, devoid of urgency and fervor, something Miles regarded from enough of a distance that he didn’t balk at being touched.

But now... He’d never wanted like this in his life. There was no order, no dignity to the way he clutched at Phoenix, seeking skin like a man drowning. All of Phoenix was so enticing he was half-convinced he was shaking with excitement rather than cold. His smell, his warmth, the familiar lines of his body now drawn in a new dimension.

So no, he hadn’t done this before. But Phoenix was asking a rote, simple question, so rather than lay out his addled internal ramblings, Miles responded, “Yes.”

“Surprising, but also thank god.” Phoenix’s hands finally broke through to the skin of his chest, making him gasp. “Your first time shouldn’t be this.”

“I wouldn’t- mind.” Miles’s treacherous alcohol-loosened mouth said. It was true- he’d have traded any of his previous encounters for just this very moment, for a few seconds of Phoenix’s callused palms kneading his waist.

“You should, because I still haven’t gotten you that towel.” Phoenix detached from him, disappearing behind the bathroom door, half-unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders.

It gave Miles a brief moment of reprieve, a chance to gather his thoughts. A single poked at him, and he repeated, “Surprising?”

“You’re you.” Phoenix came out carrying two towels, draping one over Miles’s shoulders and using the other to ruffle Miles’s locks. “Like, you know, one of those Christian nuns, but married to work instead of Jesus. I didn’t think you would be interested.”

I’m plenty interested in you. “You’re babbling nonsense again.”

“You’re being rude again.”

“I’m- ah- merely saying-“ Warm hands roamed his bared torso as they migrated down to his belt, dipping in the space between skin and fabric to tease. “Wait, you forgot- my cravat is still-“

“I didn’t forget- I’m trying to decide if I want it on or off.” Teeth bit down around the subject of their thoughts, the vulnerability of the rough contact so close to Miles’s neck leaving him momentarily speechless. “It’s been driving me insane for years.”

Miles tried to laugh, but it came out more as a moan. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Untouchable Miles Edgeworth, buttoned up all tight and proper.” Miles’s belt clinked as Phoenix undid it and pushed it to the side to get to the zipper. “I’m going to enjoy taking you apart. I bet you’re even prettier naked and panting my name.”

Miles shut Phoenix up with his mouth, afraid that his face would heat past the boiling point if Phoenix was allowed to continue talking. There was one more door in the apartment and Miles pushed towards it, stepping out of his pants in the process. They collided with it, not breaking the kiss as Phoenix reached blindly behind him to let them in. Miles used the moment of fumbling to untie his cravat and drop it to the floor, relying on muscle memory to counteract intoxicated clumsiness.

Neither noticed the door slam as they stumbled in, moving so fast that they toppled onto the bed when the backs of Phoenix’s knees hit it. Miles leaned down to nibble on Phoenix’s shoulder, neck, ear, nails raking down his chest and abdomen and over the bulge in his pants. Then the world span and he found himself on his back, staring up at Phoenix.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Phoenix smiled down at him, turning on the bedside lamp with a click. “You haven’t even let me look at you yet.”

He gently brushed Miles’s arms, slowly despite the sharp desire in his eyes, in an ostensibly meaningless, meandering way. Connecting the numerous birthmarks dotting Miles’s body into constellations, his treacherous heart imagined. Miles allowed it as long as he could, not wanting to ruin the moment, but soon enough he had to move away. He tried to do it subtly, but the attempt failed, his body jerking away as if burned.

Phoenix studied him for a moment, brows furrowed, and Miles waited for the questions he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know why insubstantial touch made him want to crawl out of his skin, didn’t know how to fix the issue. It usually wasn’t an issue- tenderness wasn’t something he’d sought from previous partners; in fact, he’d rejected it with no care for how brusque he came across.

But Phoenix was different. Miles couldn’t bring himself to reject his softness, was sure he would do a horrible job of pretending it was the affection he didn’t want and not the specific method of its application.

Miles tensed as Phoenix’s face smoothed out again, his lover having clearly reached a conclusion of some sort. He waited for Phoenix to move away with bated breath- he would ask Miles what was wrong, and when Miles couldn’t give an answer he would assume Miles was having second thoughts, and in fifteen minutes Miles would be out in the cold and the rain, miserable and aware he’d just let the best thing slip through his fingers-

But rather than say anything, Phoenix shifted them, pulling Miles entirely onto the bed. Miles had a split second to be confused before Phoenix suddenly dropped his full weight onto him. Like a piece of chocolate placed under a sun-warmed stone, Miles melted completely and uncontrollably, tension leaving his muscles so quickly that it felt as though his limbs had floated away.

“Okay?” Phoenix whispered, stubble rasping against Miles’s shoulder as he settled his head there.

Miles couldn’t force a response through the lump in his throat, didn’t know what to say anyway, so they lay in silence for a while. It felt more intimate than Phoenix’s tongue in his mouth, somehow. Two desires warred inside Miles- the sexual, a familiar force that begged Miles to rub and grind, and the... He didn’t have a name for it. A need to reach around Phoenix’s back and to pull him impossibly closer and to keep him there until the Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth of them peeled away and all that was left was two people breathing against each other into the night air.

The second was unspeakable and unattainable, and so Miles fell back on the first, starting to move under Phoenix. The tenuous moment broke and Phoenix lifted himself to his elbows, then further still to remove Miles’s searching hands from his belt and trap his arms against the bed. Miles squeaked in surprise, shuddered at the wave of unfettered arousal that swept through him like the tide. 

“If you don’t like something I’m doing, say ‘stop’ and I will. Otherwise...”

“W-wait.”

Phoenix’s grip lightened until Miles could easily pull away. A part of him wanted to- it was all too real, too revealing, so sudden and so shockingly good that it left him reeling. Sex was easy when it was a performance he didn’t particularly care for, done with people he didn’t particularly care for. Easy to walk away with his skin intact, comfortable knowing that he hadn’t shared anything he couldn’t take back, or really much of anything at all.

He should’ve known that nothing involving Phoenix Wright would ever be so sensible- why would it, when the man himself laughed in the face of reason? He’d tapped into the truth of Miles’s body with the same unerring accuracy as he had that of his heart, showing no qualms about using what he found to wrap Miles around his pinky. It was invasive and uncomfortable; more than anything, it was mortifying, how badly the casual act of dominance made Miles want to submit and cry for more.

Before he could either give in to the urge or smother it, Phoenix’s grip tightened once more, surprising him out of his internal conflict. Miles pulled against the hold, eyes widening further when there was no give, and panted, “I don’t think... I can’t...”

“If you want pleasure without intimacy, you have two functional hands to seek it on your own time. You don’t need a partner for that, and you have one tonight.” Phoenix nuzzled his neck, his ear. “So either tell me to stop or be good and quiet like the pretty little thing you are.”

Miles choked at the words. He struggled to feel indignant and insulted- he was Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, feared and respected, striking terror into the hearts of murderers everywhere-, but through the haze of lust it all morphed into yes and please.

“You can’t- say things like that.” Miles finally managed, several beats too late to be taken seriously. “Insolent.”

“Is it? I suppose you could argue you’re quite vicious in court- though, just between us, every time you make that haughty expression, I think you’re practically begging to be bent over your desk and fucked senseless.” Phoenix sucked on his neck and along his clavicle, pressing hard enough on the bone to cause a twinge or two. “But once you leave the courtroom, you’re all doe eyes and uncertain pauses. You keep glancing at others with this lost, yearning look when you think no one’s watching, like a rain-soaked kitten in a cardboard box. It’s adorable.”

The looks were usually aimed at Phoenix, but he wasn’t about to point that out. Couldn’t, really, even if he’d been so inclined. He’d never had someone barrage him with so many things at once- the teasing tone, the heat of mouth on skin, the dizzying shift between being called cute and being forced to imagine scenarios that made his head want to combust.

Not that he was imagining Phoenix having enough of his attitude in court and pressing him down none too gently, scattering his orderly notes and files all over the floor. The wood would be smooth and cool under his heated cheek, and he’d fight against strong hands as his legs were spread, and... and...

Miles moaned at the thought even as tendrils of shame curled through him and reddened his ears. Phoenix wasn’t helping, biting down his chest and around his nipples, little nibbles that would doubtless leave a canvas of aches tomorrow. Knowing how easily his skin bruised, it wasn’t a stretch to say that they would be there on Monday as well, a secret no one would even guess he was carrying under his suit.

“How- did you- know?” The alcohol had settled under his skin like a warm, impulsive companion, and he blurted the question out before he could even form it in his mind.

Phoenix didn’t stop his assault, moving steadily over the surface of Miles’s torso, a conscientious painter intent on his work. “Know what?”

“No one had ever- That is- ah- I mean-“ It was incredibly hard to concentrate, but the struggle might well have been the only reason Miles didn’t abandon the topic. “How did you know- I’m like this?”

The confusing stew of emotions broke to the surface- shame, irritation, curiosity-, and its reflection in Miles’s words finally made Phoenix pause somewhere around his ribs. “Like what?”

Miles tugged against Phoenix’s solid grip, tensed his legs under Phoenix’s own. “This. You didn’t even ask, you just...” A sound of frustration emitted from Miles’s throat. “You just knew. No one’s ever...”

“Wait, really?” Phoenix raised his head too look at him. Not wanting to meet his eyes, Miles directed his gaze down and saw spit-wet, bruised lips suffer further abuse as Phoenix chewed on them. “You have had sex before, right? That wasn’t a lie?”

“Of course it wasn’t a lie.” Miles bristled at the insinuation- he hadn’t gone through a few hours of strangers touching him to have it questioned. “But believe it or not, Wright, some people have a modicum of respect for others’ personal space.”

“I have great respect for your personal space.” Phoenix said, appropriately amused at the defensive bark when he was pinning the flushed man to the bed.

“Mental personal space. They don’t poke, and prod, and- and- go beyond what has been presented to them. They understand that I’m in control.” Miles tugged on his restraints again, harder than before. Reflexively, Phoenix dug short nails into skin and knees into the sensitive flesh of Miles’s thighs, causing Miles to gasp and arch as much as his wonderful cage allowed him. “You somehow never- get the memo. Always pushing and- seeing things that... That I don’t...”

Things that I don’t allow you to. Things that I don’t want you to. Miles couldn’t finish the sentence, teeth gritted like a dam against the incessant river of truths that stupid scotch kept putting into motion.

“You are in control.” Miles’s eyes snapped to Phoenix’s- of all the things he’d expected the man to say, that wasn’t one of them. “You’re in control so much of the time and in so many ways that the effort of maintaining it is stretching you to the limit. Chasing your law degree, then your win record, and now justice and a fair system... You’re so high-strung you’ll snap. This-“ Phoenix brushed his thumbs over the pulse points on Miles’s wrists. “-is a way to ease the tension. You could view this as another fight, or you could just... let go. Put yourself in my hands, and let me call the shots. Doesn’t that sound enticing?” Phoenix leaned down again to whisper in Miles’s ear. “I can do whatever I like with your pliant body and you have to lie there and take it.”

It didn’t so much entice him as it set his whole body on fire. His lungs, at the very least, which felt like they didn’t get to even taste the air before it was on its way out again. Miles stared at Phoenix, who stared at him in turn, eyes soft despite his tantalizingly rough words, waiting for an affirmation, or at the very least a refusal. Incapable of using human speech to get the sentiment out- I trust you more than anyone in the world, I would let you do anything to me you don’t even have to ask-, Miles fell back on animal instinct and bared his throat, closing his eyes.

It seemed to get the message across because Phoenix’s breath stopped tickling the invisible hairs on Miles’s neck and moved downwards to continue his work. Miles writhed and trembled under his tongue and teeth, struggling to keep his arms at his sides when Phoenix inevitably let them go so he could mouth at the waistband of Miles’s boxers. It was an agonizing process, Phoenix’s hands not moving higher than the edge of the fabric as he caressed Miles’s legs with rough strokes, lips never more than dipping underneath the elastic.

Eventually, Miles’s patience eroded down to nothing along with his self-consciousness, and he pleaded for an end to the torture as his hips lifted off the bed in jerky aborted thrusts, cock bumping against Phoenix's chin.

“Be patient, darling, we have all night.” Phoenix only inched the waistband down, kissing the freed skin at his hip. “Just relax.”

Miles’s protest got buried under a groan as Phoenix licked at the base of his cock, finally exposed to the air though the rest remained tenting his boxers. All night- Miles wouldn’t last another five minutes before coming in his underwear like a teenager. Some people might bring themselves off regularly, but that had never been true of Miles, not even before he’d gotten long working hours and medication involved in the mix. With weeks of no touch, even Phoenix’s drawn out teasing was pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

Pushing himself backwards was enough to dislodge him from Phoenix, whose hands had migrated to keep his boxers from sliding back up and were no longer holding him. Before Phoenix could catch up to what was happening, Miles had slid off the bed, in such a rush that he stumbled head-first into the wall.

“Good god, Miles! Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Hastily, to avoid Phoenix coming over to check on him, Miles rid himself of the makeshift torture device and got back up on the bed, crawling to his hands and knees.

“I was in the middle of something, you know.” Phoenix was breathless, but not even a deficit of air could hide his amusement. “You agreed to let me do what I want.”

“I agreed to have sex, not be your...” Miles bit his tongue against the word plaything, but couldn’t prevent the new rush of warmth to his perpetually overheated face. “Just get on with it.”

“I don’t even have lube.” Shocked, Miles whipped his head over his shoulder. Barely disguising his chuckle with a cough at the reaction, Phoenix clarified, “I mean, I don’t have it at hand. It’s in the drawer over there.”

“Again, get on with it.” Miles rocked forward to thump his head against the headboard, hoping it would dislodge the spike of exasperated affection stabbing his heart.

Phoenix’s weight disappeared from the bed and he didn’t say anything until he was back, possibly because he was concentrating on shedding the rest of his clothes and raiding his drawer, but more likely because he was trying and failing to quiet his laughter. “Do you have something against foreplay?”

“That’s not foreplay. Kissing is foreplay. A minute or two of touching is foreplay.”

The bed dipped, signaling Phoenix’s return. “I can’t tell if that’s an estimation or if you actually time it.”

Miles bit his lip rather than bother answering, not wanting to give Phoenix fodder for further snickering. What was wrong with timing things, anyway? It kept the encounter a reasonable length and lowered the chances of unnecessary chatter or distractions.

“Do you always aim for a hundred and twenty seconds or is that for when sixty fails due to unforeseen circumstances?” A finger breached Miles, making him gasp and attempt to push back on it. Instead of letting him, Phoenix pressed his free hand between Miles’s shoulder blades until Miles yielded and lowered his chest to the bed. “God, it’s no wonder you’re so stiff when you’ve never been fucked properly.”

Miles keened as a second finger joined the first, panting into the sheets. “I don’t need- preparation.”

“Yeah? When’s the last time some lout who didn’t know what to do with you had you?”

Not during or after Hazakura Temple, certainly- January, maybe? Or would it have been December? He tried the rack his brain, but before he could come to a conclusion, Phoenix pressed against the bundle of nerves that halted all thought.

“Not recently, then.” Phoenix decided, deriving the correct answer from his silence. “I’m not hurting you, Miles, so you’ll just have to deal with being taken care of.”

Miles barely registered the words beyond the soft tone, too focused on rotating his hips to chase the near overwhelming high. His position didn’t give him enough leverage to properly push up, and he whimpered in dismay, trying to shift under Phoenix’s palm.

“Need a moment?” Phoenix asked, doubtless thinking that Miles was uncomfortable. Miles shook his head, digging his face into the mattress. Gentle fingers played with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck for a moment, before retreating along with the ones in his ass. Despite his denial, Miles rearranged his arms a bit to ease the strain on his shoulders as he listened to the ripping of plastic and the wet squelch of lube.

Blunt pressure against his hole made him whine and sob with want. Phoenix ignored the silent pleas and went slowly, taking more care than Miles felt was necessary but thankfully not stopping until he was all the way in.

“Alright?” Panted breaths curled around the syllables, the thighs pressed against his own all but shaking from the effort of staying still.

“Will you just- fuck me-“ The words were meant to be an order, but came out as just another needy whine.

“I’ll bring this up when you call me impatient the next time we’re in-“ The next time we’re in court, Phoenix didn’t finish, catching himself. Miles’s heart ached, hands curling into loose fists beneath him.

“Phoenix-“ He started gently, then broke off with a gasp when Phoenix pulled out and pushed back in, repeating the motion until he set a punishing rhythm. His fingers dug into Miles’s hips, hard enough that bruises would bloom like flowers the next morning, and angled him until he cried out. Miles shifted a bit to help maintain the position, toes curling as Phoenix brushed his prostate with every thrust.

It was what Miles had asked for, the roughness and the speed, the air filled with nothing but the basest physical response and the accompanying sounds. And it felt amazing, body and muffled mouth begging for more, faster, harder, but that little ache remained like a thorn in his chest.

Phoenix’s arm snaked around Miles’s torso, lifting him so suddenly that pain spiked in Miles’s head.

“Shh, shh. Sorry.” Soft lips pressed kisses to his temple as his thoroughly disheveled hair was pushed out of his eyes. “I was worried you were going to suffocate.”

The lack of oxygen might’ve been a fellow culprit behind the pain, if Miles was being honest. He’d usually avoid the position Phoenix had unwittingly put him into, too fond of the feeling of not quite being able to breathe. Not wanting to breach the topic, he squirmed on Phoenix’s lap instead, trying both to chase pleasure and to find a comfortable place for his long legs.

Phoenix let him set the tempo this time, focusing his attention on Miles’s chest, holding him tightly to his own. He played with Miles’s nipples until Miles hissed from overstimulation, pushing Phoenix’s hands away but keeping them close. Chuckling, Phoenix instead passed his nails through the hair he’d messed up earlier, then down over soft abdomen and through the happy trail, never venturing south enough to touch his weeping cock.

Miles leaned his head back to rest on Phoenix’s shoulder, that small heartache easing off a little when Phoenix rubbed his face against the exposed skin like a cat, nuzzling under the edge of Miles’s jaw. He sucked and Miles’s hips halted as he moaned, hand flying to Phoenix’s hair to keep him in place.

“Tired already, lovely? And here I thought these were made of steel.” Phoenix said, groping Miles’s thigh, hips continuing off where Miles had stopped. “Do you want to bring yourself off while I fuck you?”

Miles shook his head, intertwining his fingers with Phoenix’s and sliding both their hands up.

“Want me to do it?” Miles gasped when Phoenix took him in hand, the casual touch nearly enough to get him there. He tried to pump up into the loose fist, whining when the restraining arm stopped him. “God, you’re beautiful. You want my touch?  Need it?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Miles panted out, moving up and down on Phoenix’s cock since that seemed to be allowed. Even through the intense haze of lust and oncoming climax, he heard the plea in Phoenix’s voice, tried his best to answer it. “Want you. Need you- so bad. No one- makes me feel- like you. So good- so cared- for- please, Phoenix, please, I can’t take it anymore-“

Finally taking mercy on him, Phoenix tightened his grip and pulled him off in a matter of seconds, hips rolling for that extra bit of pleasure. Miles came on a cry, fucking into Phoenix’s fist, squeezing around Phoenix’s cock and feeling his lover shudder underneath and behind and all around him.

Miles still hadn’t regained control of his limbs when Phoenix carefully lifted him and set him down on the bed. Warm hands massaged his wrists and arms and legs, pleasantly cool against his overheated skin. A soft voice cooed against his hair, sweet words whose meaning never quite processed in Miles’s brain. A lovely background melody, only quieting when Miles sought out Phoenix’s lips for a slow, thorough kiss.

Phoenix stayed by his side until Miles got back to himself and stretched, soundlessly slipping off the bed and out the room. He came back a few minutes later, carrying a large glass of water and a small, damp towel. Miles accepted them, first drinking to soothe his dry throat, then unfolding the towel to clean himself. Phoenix sat down next to him, gathering his knees loosely to his chest, leaving Miles to tidy himself up in peace.

In too much peace, almost. Miles had expected a steady stream of chatter, or at least a few silly remarks, but not a peep sounded from the other side of the bed. Usually he would take his time making sure that he didn’t wake up sticky, but now he only dealt with the worst of it before he turned to Phoenix.

In the brief flashes of passing cars outside, Miles could see that all the playfulness and softness had bled from Phoenix’s face, leaving it completely blank. It was disconcerting- Phoenix was an expressive man, quick to frown or smile or mold his features into whatever array best fit his mood; it didn’t suit him to look so... eroded. An actor in his dressing room, performance done and role left on the curtained stage, forced to once again face reality.

Miles hesitated. He wasn’t good at these things. He never had been, not that he could remember, always standing awkwardly to the side while someone cried and was comforted. Not that he hadn’t tried to help, a few times, but he never knew what to do with his hands, or how to gauge when to say something and what that something should be, or how not to make it seem like he wanted to be elsewhere.

I don’t care if you do things wrong.

Miles scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Phoenix as tightly as he could, holding on with everything he had instead of trying to mimic what he assumed a normal hug to be. Phoenix resisted for a moment, body rigid and unmoving, before he crumpled all at once, covering his face with his hands and leaning into Miles.

“I’m sorry.” Heaving sobs burst from his throat like a dam breaking, shoulders shaking from the force of them. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

In between the cracked syllables, Miles could hear the words Phoenix couldn’t say, because he might have an easier time with sentiment but that didn’t mean it never stuck in his throat. A moment of carelessness cost me my career; and the game might have been rigged but I was a good player; and it’s not fair, it’s not fair, to have something you love ripped away because of someone else’s hatred and selfishness.

“Shh.” Miles soothed, resting his chin on top of Phoenix’s head, letting him go briefly to pull up a blanket around his shoulders. He didn’t say It’s okay, because it wasn’t, or We’ll fix it, because they might not be able to. Not all the way, not these new cracks behind Phoenix’s eyes that still shed dust when he moved, the sharp anger that he wouldn’t fully explain.

But maybe Phoenix would let him be there through the not-okay and the unfixable, and maybe that would be enough. Miles had run from so much in his life, pain and love and shame, but he didn’t want to run from this- for once he wanted to stay, to reach out when Phoenix needed him and not the other way around.

Eventually Phoenix’s tears turned to hiccups and then to ragged breathing, and Miles maneuvered them until they were lying down. The bed was small enough that he had no trouble reaching over Phoenix and turning the lamp off, plunging them into darkness.

Phoenix fell asleep quickly, but Miles stayed awake for a while longer, holding the man he loved, breathing in his smell on the soft pillow, murmuring everything he couldn’t say in the daylight into his hair.

***

Miles woke alone, in the dark, and with a pounding headache. Disoriented and vaguely nauseous, he carefully sat up and rubbed his face, trying to remember where and when he was. Braving the dizziness, he looked around slowly.

Right. Phoenix’s apartment.

Groaning, Miles got up on shaky legs and cracked open the curtains, immediately turning away from the window to avoid being blinded. He surveyed the room again, noting his suit hanged neatly on the back of a chair, the fresh glass of water and a couple pills on the bedside table, the inconspicuous piece of paper next to them, and...

No Phoenix. No scent of tea or coffee or breakfast, no sound of the shower, no radio in the background to explain his absence. Sighing, Miles padded back over to the bed and sat down.

The pills had clearly been left for him, and he recognized them as the no-brand, basic painkillers, so he downed them with the water. And then, not wanting to give himself time to chicken out, he picked the folded paper up and opened it.

His eyes scanned the message once, struggling to decipher the scribbled writing, then again, and a third time. He crumpled the note, then immediately straightened it on out again, ironing out the edges with his thumb. Afraid to damage it again, he carried it over to his briefcase and nestled it in his hardcover schedule book for safekeeping.

In an orderly fashion, he washed his face and put on his day-old clothes, checked that he had all his belongings twice and finger combed his hair when he passed the hallway mirror. Satisfied that he was as presentable as could be managed, ignoring the hollow ache in his chest that deepened with every beat of his heart, Miles left the apartment and clicked the door shut behind him.

***

Dear Edgeworth,

Dear Miles,

Edgeworth,

I hope your head isn’t killing you - I left you some pain meds just in case, they should be okay to take with SSRIs. I had to go run some errands. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so don’t wait for me. Not that I think you would, you’re busy and have better things to Feel free to use the shower before you go, the towels are in the bathroom cabinet. See you at the See you in a few See you la

- Phoenix

ps thank you for last night

take care, miles