Archive of Our Own

Soft, silky skin with blooming bruises under rough fingers. Trembling thighs clamped tight. Broken moans and hitching breaths. Textured lace under a velvet tongue. Damp fabric, shattered pleas, grasping fingers.

“Fuck… Don’t fucking stop, please…”

Phainon wouldn’t dream of stopping. No forceful hand, no natural disaster, no end of the world could pull him away from Mydei’s dripping cunt. He grips Mydei’s thigh tighter, shifting on the bed to lift it further over his shoulder, giving himself more access to the paradise that lies before him.

“You taste so good, Mydei,” Phainon murmurs, leaning in to hungrily suck on his cock, holding his thighs apart to get the most of the meal he’s desperate to savour. One hand stays hooked in his g-string to tug it to one side; even the fabric is soaked now.

He’s acutely aware of Mydei’s fingers in his hair, sharply crooked down to dig his nails into his scalp, and the stinging pain of it spurs him on to suck him off harder, better, more.

Phainon dips his tongue lower, brushing Mydei’s cock on the path to his hole, where he fucks his tongue inside in shallow movements. Above him, Mydei lets out a groan and bucks his hips up, gravitating towards Phainon’s mouth.

“You’re so eager,” Phainon teases lightly, pulling back just to press a wet kiss on Mydei’s cock, before he returns to languidly fucking him with his tongue. “Knew you’d be this good. So responsive for me.”

“Hnnngh, shut up,” Mydei rasps. His thighs squeeze tighter around Phainon’s head and, Titans, he’d really love to die in this spot. Suffocated between Mydei’s legs – what a fucking dream.

“It’s cute,” Phainon says, muffled. “I’m so lucky. Can’t believe you’re letting me have you.”

He lets his tongue drag over Mydei again, before he pulls back, propping himself up on his elbows to look up at Mydei. His entire lower face is wet with slick and spit, lips red and swollen, and when he darts his tongue out over his lips, he’s gifted with that heavenly flavour on his tastebuds all over again.

Mydei stares down at him with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. His chest rises and falls with every labored breath beneath his bralette, and he looks thoroughly wrecked. “The fuck did you stop for?” he pants, and Phainon really loves how he attempts to sound threatening when he’s so ruined already.

“I’m taking my time,” Phainon replies, leaning down to kiss up Mydei’s inner thighs again. “I want you trembling and begging.” A gentle bite to that sensitive flesh. “Whining and sobbing for me.” A long lick. “Wanna hear you lose it, all because of me.”

Mydei scoffs, but it’s a shaky, uneven sound. He grips Phainon’s hair, tugs him back up to glare at him, and Phainon very nearly comes on the spot.

“Don’t make me wait, Deliverer,” Mydei snaps weakly. “Besides, you don’t have a lot of time. Don’t you want to see me come before it’s too late?”

Phainon wants to ask about that nickname, ‘Deliverer’, first and foremost, but the latter part of what Mydei said begs his attention more. “Too late?” he questions, tilting his head. He absentmindedly rubs his thumb back and forth on Mydei’s thigh, always wanting to be touching him to some degree.

Mydei doesn’t even give him an answer. “Less questioning, more fucking. Come on.”

The hand in Phainon’s hair tightens to a mean grip, and suddenly he’s pushed back down into Mydei’s cunt, nosing his cock. He moans at the rough treatment and immediately obliges, tongue pushing back out to suck Mydei off like his life fucking depends on it.

Maybe it does. He’s still wondering what ‘too late’ means, but the thought is swiftly squashed when he pulls a sharp, loud groan from Mydei.

Mydei’s hips roll in time with Phainon’s motions, grinding his cock against Phainon’s tongue. Phainon can hear him moaning, soft pleas falling from his lips, an erotic melody in his ears that he never wants to stop.

Phainon wants to pull the lingerie off Mydei so badly, but he feels like something is stopping him. Like the decision isn’t his to make. He wants Mydei naked beneath him, wants to see beneath the bralette, wants to fuck his cunt without needing to keep one hand on standby to hold his underwear to one side.

“Mydei,” Phainon breathes. He gives a tug on the underwear. “Please, let me take this off.”

“You can’t,” Mydei mutters from above. “You don’t have me like that.”

“Like what?” Phainon asks, sounding a little more desperate. He is desperate. He’s already had Mydei under his tongue – why can't he get rid of the lingerie now?

“You’re running out of time.” Mydei avoids his question again, and Phainon really should ask why he’s being so cryptic all of a sudden, but he can feel his dick distracting him, straining in his boxers. The ravenous desire to fuck Mydei into the sheets overwhelms his sense, and he forgets about it in favour of bringing his other hand up to press two fingers against Mydei’s hole.

“Oh, fuck, yes, do it,” Mydei demands breathlessly.

So Phainon does. He runs his fingers over Mydei’s cunt to wet his fingers, before pushing two inside.

Mydei cries out immediately, back arching, hips shifting, but Phainon doesn’t let him get far. He curls his fingers at the same time he resumes licking Mydei’s cock, taking the swollen end into his mouth as he fucks him open on his fingers.

It’s pure bliss, really. Phainon groans around Mydei’s cock, losing himself in the perfection of it all. His senses are overwhelmed with Mydei, Mydei, Mydei. He’s all he can taste, smell, feel, all he needs, all he wants. His hips start rocking into the mattress to take some of the edge off his own cock, because, fuck, this entire tableau is so sexy, it’s almost too much.

“Shit, look at you,” Mydei rasps. “Humping the mattress like a fucking dog. You’re gonna come before I am.”

Phainon tries to deny this statement, making a noise of protest, but he’s not sure if he even believes it. He’s so sensitive for some reason, and every spark of friction against his cock feels like blue fire in his veins.

It is increasingly pathetic. He ruts against the mattress in time with his own fingers thrusting inside Mydei, pulling moans from both of them. He keeps going, keeps sucking and licking and curling his fingers, and he’s so fucking close, and it’s so perfect, so good, and Mydei’s wet and warm and real and–

౨ৎ

Sinking to rock bottom looks different to different people. Some know they’re on the way when they lose their job. Others may feel the slip when they’re spending more time in casinos than in the comfort of their own home. Sometimes it’s as mundane as simply noticing your hairline receding from excess stress.

Phainon knew he was sinking to his own rock bottom when he woke up sweaty and seconds from orgasm after a wet dream about a fucking lingerie model.

He could hear his alarm going off, that dissonant beep-beep-beep flooding his ears at far too early o’clock in the morning, and as annoying as it was, all he could do for that first minute of consciousness was lie there, staring at the ceiling, and think:

What the fuck was that?

Every jarring screech of his alarm pounded at his skull like repeated bullets of reality checks being fired in his face. Every beep was a reminder of the dream he just surfaced from. Eventually, he got too sick of the noise and rolled over to slam his hand onto his phone screen and put an end to that detestable sound.

For some reason, the following silence felt louder than the alarm itself. Perhaps that was because now Phainon had the space to let reality sink in. He flipped onto his back again, rested his hand against his forehead, and just breathed.

Okay. What does any self-respecting psychology professor, such as Phainon, do when they discover an unprecedented fragility in their cognitive processes? Naturally, they strive to dissect and analyse the phenomenon using the scientific method.

Step One: identify and observe the issue.

In simple terms, the issue is that Phainon had a wet dream about a lingerie model. In more expanded terminology, the issue is that Phainon had obsessed over a specific lingerie model from a magazine for months, buying every new volume because of his hopeless attraction, and now said lingerie model had weaseled into Phainon’s subconscious. Phainon’s attraction was no longer confined to the waking world, no longer limited to the fantasies he dreamed when looking at Mydei’s sensual photoshoots, but now existed in his mind involuntarily. And his involuntary existence in Phainon’s subconscious was sin incarnate, and he wanted to go right back.

To summarise, he had it bad for a guy who was completely and totally unattainable. Who didn’t even know Phainon existed. Who was so far removed from Phainon’s world, he might as well be on another planet.

Step Two: devise a hypothesis.

In theory, there were two hypotheses that Phainon could make.

Hypothesis A: If Phainon harshly restricted exposure to Mydei-related stimuli, then the frequency of disruptive thoughts, fantasies, and most importantly, the probability of subconscious hallucinations, would gradually decrease.

This seemed sensible. Very sensible, in fact. He would probably write that in an academic experiment log. Phainon’s growing fixation was bound to become a later problem, because apparently pretty men in lace made his brain derail catastrophically, so he should put a lid on it now.

Alternatively, hypothesis B: if Phainon increased exposure to Mydei-related stimuli, then the probability of dream recurrence would increase accordingly.

On paper, this seemed like a terrible idea, because Phainon was already too far gone. In practice, however, Phainon knew that Hypothesis B would yield extremely pleasurable results. Besides, Phainon didn’t particularly want to reduce his Mydei-related stimuli exposure. Not when it gave him vivid dreams like what he had last night.

Temptation was a funny thing. Phainon’s cranial function was generally in tip-top shape; it had to be, given his career and the life he surrounded himself with. But one sex dream with the model in his favourite magazine and suddenly all Phainon knows is how to think with his dick.

And currently, his dick was pointing straight towards Hypothesis B.

So, Step Three: experimentation.

This was the part where Phainon would start leading investigations to prove his hypothesis.. Given the nature of his current hypothesis, it would only bear effective results after a prolonged period of time and testing.

But all good experiments start somewhere, don’t they?

The matter of Phainon’s disrupted orgasm still weighed on him, metaphorically and physically. His cock was still flushed and needy and neglected under the sheets, so the most logical course of action in that moment was to finish what he’d started.

Before he knew it, his hand had slipped down beneath the sheets, and he was languidly fucking his cock into his fist, watching the fading wisps of his dream that his mind still clung to. His eyes drifted shut and images of Mydei came to life behind them: Mydei writhing beneath him, glaring at him with hazy, lust-addled eyes, rocking his sweet, glistening cunt against Phainon’s face.

If he thought about it hard enough, he swore he could feel the phantom touch of Mydei’s thigh over his shoulder.

His head tilted back in the pillow, low grunts slipping out after every pump, after every recollection of the dream he so craved to live through again. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to reach that delicious brink all over again, not with how slick his cock had become from thinking of the Mydei in his dream.

This entire ordeal had been a complete accident. A very embarrassing one, at that.

It started months ago when Cyrene, his best friend, claimed to have ‘something super cool that she just had to show him immediately’. When they met up, she sat him down on a bench and eagerly shoved a magazine in his face.

CALAMITY was an intimate queer-owned magazine focused on "spotlighting queer bodies and queer sexuality, dismantling stigma about sex, pleasure and desire to create a space to embrace it instead". Inside the magazine, it featured photoshoots, illustrations, poetry, discussion columns and interviews, with contributions from queer people from all kinds of backgrounds.

The magazine was co-owned by three people, who also took part in features within the magazine. Phainon had come to know their names and faces after consistently buying new volumes. There was Castorice, who produced most of the illustrations and poetry throughout the magazine. There was Cipher, who took charge of most interviews and advice columns.

Then, there was Mydei.

Mydei stood out because of his lingerie photoshoots. Although CALAMITY included various different models every time, he was always there in every volume, posed and pictured in lace and beautiful. His erotic photos were a constant, and Phainon had become hooked on them all.

The first time Phainon saw one of his photos, his breath had caught so violently that he choked. He remembered it exactly.

A dimly candlelit room, elegant curtains of red and white cascading from somewhere above, scattered yet opulent furniture on the floor surrounding the man in the middle of it all. Mydei sat on the ground before the armchair, arms stretched behind his head, back perfectly arched, blonde hair messy over his forehead.

The actual lingerie set, oh, the set was criminal. A wine-red velvet fabric with a gorgeous black lace trim around the edge of the bra cups. Just beneath the bra, too, lace patterns extended a little more, fanning over the sculpted planes of muscle on his torso. Low on Mydei’s hips sat the matching thong piece, dark red following every curve and divot of his upper thighs with silky, black ribbons tied off at the sides.

Phainon remembered every minor detail of that photo as well: the slim ribbon choker around his neck, the tiny satin bows on the bra straps, the frilled cuffs on his wrists, the slight part of Mydei’s lips, the confident allure of everything from his pose to his expression.

After that one photo, Phainon was a goner.

Despite CALAMITY originally being Cyrene’s interest she shared with Phainon, he continued to buy copies of every new issue in secret, solely for the purpose of seeing new pictures of Mydei. Mydei in white lace, blue lace, gold lace, Mydei in babydoll dresses, Mydei in corsets, Mydei, Mydei, Mydei.

It seemed that his attraction had grown to a critical threshold, and that dream had been the catastrophic shift that made Phainon tip over.

In the throes of his pleasure, Phainon absentmindedly glanced to his right and was met with the sight of the latest volume of CALAMITY that he’d been looking at the night before, left open on a page of Mydei in a sheer set with little bat wings. He choked on his next groan, stroked his cock a final time, before shattering like glass on marble flooring.

He pulsed thick and heavy over his fingers, chest heaving as his pleasure crested, images of Mydei floating about in his post-orgasmic hazy mind. He clutched the duvet tight in his other hand, a feeble attempt at grounding himself after finally getting the reprieve he craved when he woke up.

He blinked sluggishly, staring up at the ceiling. His hand was sticky. His cognition was compromised by lace and thighs. He tried to form a coherent thought and failed miserably.

Outside his window, the world was still waking up, with birds singing their morning calls and cars pulling out of parking spaces to begin their daily journeys. But Phainon, at 7:00 AM, had already conducted a scientific experiment.

Step Four: analysis.

As expected, the added implementation of dream-Mydei stimulus worsened the likelihood of further fixation. As expected, the results were extremely pleasurable. As expected, Phainon still wanted to relive his dream from last night, if not even more so.

Step Five: conclusion.

Phainon had a problem he had absolutely no intention of fixing. It could hardly be a problem when it felt this good, right?

Well, maybe Phainon would just have to conduct some more experiments to really make sure.

For science, of course.

౨ৎ

Phainon spent the next two weeks ‘experimenting’. And by ‘experimenting’, that meant routinely flicking through pictures of Mydei in every volume of CALAMITY that Phainon owned, then crawling under his sheets, taking himself in hand, and fantasising about blonde hair, orange eyes and thick muscles clad in lace until he fell asleep.

All in hopes to reinduce a dream like that one again.

He knew it was ridiculous. He knew, objectively, it was not healthy to encourage an attachment to an imaginary version of a real person. As a man who lived and breathed understanding of parasocial relationships and the phenomena of conditioning, he really should’ve known better.

Phainon had just never been very good at feeling things in moderation, nor handling things sensibly either.

So that’s how Phainon spent his days. Grading papers, giving lectures and attending meetings in the day, then chasing down a lustful dream through orgasmic bliss at night.

Most of the time, his attempts at inducing another wet dream didn’t work. He’d wring himself dry night after night, fall asleep in the comedown, and wake up the next morning, dreamless, with mild embarrassment burning in his ribcage. He’d then repeat the process the same night, because apparently Phainon was a glutton for punishment and a devotee to suffering.

But then, there were the successful attempts. The times where Phainon would slip into sleep and find Mydei in the centre of his bed, sprawled out like spilled ink on his mattress, so beautiful that it made all his failures worth it. He’d follow the motions of the dream, let it unfold like a blurry picture book without any real control over what appears on the pages, and fall into the raw pleasure until the sun rose to drag him back into his body. In those mornings, he’d wake to find goosebumps prickling his skin and his thighs and bedsheets damp.

No dream was ever the exact same, so Phainon ended up having a bank of fictitious memories that passed through his mind during the day. He’d be mid-lecture, academically discussing the theory of attachment, and then the word "fixation" would fall from his lips, and suddenly recollections of shaking thighs and throaty moans filled every corner of his mind. After that, he’d be fighting back a boner for the next few hours.

There was always a little voice in his head telling him that the more he indulged, the faster he’d fall, and the harder he’d hit the ground at some point. It was his last remaining sliver of sensibility, but it was rapidly fraying with every wet dream, every faux taste of heaven that coated Phainon’s tongue.

It was, indeed, becoming a problem. Particularly because Phainon was so hooked on the feeling that it bled into his interactions with others.

“Phainon?”

That was strange. Mydei never usually said his real name in his daydreams. It was always ‘Deliverer’, which Phainon still had no answer on what that meant.

“Earth to Phainon?”

That was even stranger. That wasn’t the kind of thing Mydei would even say. At least, not Phainon’s dream version of him. Sure, Dream Mydei had the lip for breathless sarcasm and shaky taunts, but that wasn’t even–

“Phainon!”

A startling clap! boomed in front of his face, and he blinked rapidly, reeling backwards in his office chair. “What–?!” he blurted, shaking his head to try and drag his consciousness back from the clouds.

Once the initial shock died down, and Phainon refixed his attention on his surroundings, he paused, taking a moment to remember where he was and what he was doing. The science department’s staff room. His desk. Hyacine’s lecture plan that he was meant to be reading. Oh, shit.

Hyacine sighed deeply, turning to lean her weight back against the side of Phainon’s desk. “You spaced out on me,” she said, glancing at Phainon with kind eyes. “Again. Have you been feeling alright, Phainon?”

Phainon felt a flicker of embarrassment curling in his stomach, but he’d always been good at feigning nonchalance. He chuckled, aiming for something sheepish, and rolled his chair towards his desk again. “Sorry, sorry. I’m fine. My sleep’s just been weird. No big deal though, before you go all Dr. Hyacinthia on me.”

Hyacine laughed. “That’s no surprise to me. You’re always working too hard.”

Phainon grinned crookedly. “What can I say?” He shrugged a shoulder, lifting his hands with the motion. “I take education very seriously.”

“Do you?” Hyacine questioned through a fit of giggles. “I think I recall you telling your students that enriching your mental health by skipping a few lectures a week had greater benefits than side effects, which...?”

Phainon’s eyebrows raised. “Where did you hear about that?! That was strictly confidential between me and my supervision group!"

Hyacine teasingly poked her tongue out in his direction. “Maybe your loyal students aren’t so loyal to you after all.”

Phainon sighed dramatically, slumping in his chair like a deflated balloon. “Sacrilege. I pour my heart out for their lectures—”

“Don’t you plan them the night before?”

Phainon ignored that. “—and this is how they repay me?” He sighed, rubbing his forehead between thumb and forefinger. ““Go into teaching”, they said. “It’ll be rewarding”, they said.”

“Yes, yes, because we all know Phainon hates his job,” Hyacine replied sarcastically. She shook her head with a fond smile on her lips. “Anyway, are you planning on finishing this or–?” She gestured towards her lecture plan still on Phainon’s desk, the front page folded over the corner.

Phainon blinked. “Oh, oh, yeah! No, no, I’ll finish it. Sorry, yeah, I just got distracted. Like I said, terrible sleep recently,” he repeated, perhaps too quickly.

His eyes dropped back to the papers, scanning the blocks of text to resume from where he left off. How embarrassing that he started daydreaming while reading an explanation of arterial and venous mapping. How did he even manage that?

He resumed reading from the last place he recognised, scanning the words, absorbing the content, until his eyes glazed over the sentence, “small, interlaced venous networks can be recorded and displayed with sound wave transmission with ultrasound imaging”, and his brain just halted, snagging on the word ‘laced’.

Laced. Lace. Mydei in lace.

Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding. His brain somehow looped back to his guilty pleasure because of a sentence about blood vessels?!

Before he could let another daydream take root and blossom in his mind, he shook his head and forced his way through the rest of the plan. Every creeping tendril of a Mydei-related thought he quickly squashed and forced back into a darker corner of his mind.

Now was not the time to explore any of those images. Now was the time to show up for his friend.

Phainon read through the rest of Hyacine’s plan with tunnel-visioned determination, and then gave his thoughts and feedback once he’d finished. She nodded enthusiastically through it all, until she seemed satisfied with his help and thanked him, before she returned to her desk across the room.

Once she left, he let out a sigh and slumped back in his chair, pulling his glasses off with one hand to scrub down his face with the other. Titans, he was so unbelievably fucked.

The rest of the day unfolded in a similar fashion to all his current others: he taught, charmed, joked, researched, did everything and anything he possibly could to distract himself from the possibility of something making him think about Mydei.

It wasn’t until after his last lecture had ended, and he was making his way home, that it stopped being one of those predictable, unremarkable days.

The train jolted beneath his feet, his grip automatically tightening on the overhead bar to stop from swaying too hard and colliding into one of the many people surrounding him. Orange columns of light drifted on the walls of the carriage, catching in different sets of eyes as the train rounded a bend.

Phainon exhaled under his breath, dispelling some of the worked-up tension in his body. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of dinner. Some takeout place near his apartment? Perhaps cooking something substantial? He mulled over the possibilities – mundane little things – when, suddenly, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He pulled it out, careful not to elbow anyone to his right, and glanced at the screen. Cyrene was calling. The sight of her contact made his lips turn up at the corners, and he pressed the green button, before lifting the phone to his ear.

“Hi Cyrene,” he greeted warmly.

“Phainon! Hey, I’m glad I caught you,” she trilled down the line, sounding particularly enthusiastic. In the background, Phainon could hear the blending voices of crowds of people. Somewhere busy?

“Hm? Yeah, I’m just on my way home. Is everything alright?”

Cyrene giggled. “Everything's fantastic! I’ve got news~!”

“Oh? Did you get your final draft approved?”

“Ah, not yet.” Cyrene sighed. “My editor gave my manuscript back again. I just have a few things to tweak in the last few chapters but she’ll be ready soon.”

Well, if not Cyrene’s book, then what could the news be about? Phainon wondered.

“Do you remember that magazine I showed you a few months ago?”

Phainon blinked. His grip around the phone tightened faintly.

Did he remember? Did he remember? Fuck, remembering was all he did these days. Remembering made his blood sing, made his lips part around shaky sighs. Remembering was his undoing, his fatal flaw, his freefall with no landing.

So, yeah. He remembered.

He coughed into a closed fist before speaking again. “Yeah, I– I remember.” He paused, then remembered that he should probably at least pretend to be somewhat clueless. “What was it called again? Cataclysmic...?”

“CALAMITY, Phainon. Come on, you’re telling me it didn’t stick with you? I’m literally obsessed with it.”

Phainon wanted to laugh at the irony, but he bit it back. “It’s, ah, definitely more your type of thing than mine.”

“Ah, maybe…” Cyrene trailed off as if she were contemplating something. “Mmm… did you not like the magazine, then?”

That wasn’t quite how Phainon would put it. “No, no, I liked it!” A bit too much. “I just, y’know, don’t read magazines much.” Bullshit. “Why?”

“We-ell, I was just out shopping today and you will never guess who I saw.”

Phainon’s head tilted. “Who?”

“Cipher! You know, the, ah, one of the girls who owns CALAMITY. She was handing out flyers and I got to talk with her. Titans, Phainon, she’s so pretty in person. She saw me and basically waved me over from halfway across the mall. Okay, maybe not halfway, but–”

“Hold on, sorry, sorry, wait,” Phainon interrupted, shifting on the balls of his feet. “Flyers for what?”

“Oh!” Cyrene laughed. “Silly me. They’re having this pop-up event in a month's time. It’s for the anniversary of their first volume! But, ah, it’s this little gathering for, as Cipher said, “anyone who’s queer and into fashion, art, or hot gays in lace.” Isn’t that so cool?”

Phainon’s mouth went dry. But before he could ask any further questions, Cyrene barrelled on.

“Cipher said it’ll be quite chilled out, and there’ll be drinks and freebies and– oh, oh, also, Castorice and Mydei will be there, too, of course. They’re the other owners, remember? Cipher said—”

Phainon didn’t mean for his mind to completely tune out the rest of what Cyrene was saying. He was usually so adamant about listening to his friends and paying them his full attention. But, well…

Mydei will be there. Mydei will be there, too, of course. Of course. Mydei will be there. Mydei will. Mydei.

“Phainon?”

“Huh?”

“I said, do you want to come with me? I know it’s not really your thing, so don’t worry if not, but—”

“I’ll come.”

Cyrene paused. She paused as if she, too, understood how odd it was that Phainon answered so fast, which he did. He had hardly even breathed before the words left his lips and he swore himself to an evening of potential ruin.

“Just like that?” Cyrene asked, a newfound lightness in her voice that suggested she was teasing him about it. “You don’t need to, like, check your calendar or anything?”

Phainon didn’t say that he’d clear his entire month if that was what it took to guarantee he was free to go to the event. To see Mydei in person. To put a real personality and voice to the face he’d looked at a thousand times.

“No, it’s fine. I want to come with you. It’ll be fun, right? And… you like it, so. Of course I want to come.” That wasn’t a lie, at least. He’d follow his friends anywhere if they wanted him to. He just left out the part where a portion of his intentions lied in wanting to see a specific model.

“Really?!” Cyrene exclaimed. “Oh, Phainon, you’re the best. I’ll text you the details and send a pic of the flyer.”

Phainon swallowed thickly. “Great,” he said, desperately trying to fight back the inappropriate thoughts that were crawling back to the forefront of his mind. Ah, remembering. “That’s… brilliant. Thank you, Cyrene.”

“I’m actually quite surprised you agreed, but I'm not complaining. No backing out, alright?”

“Mhm. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Haha, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were more excited than I am!”

Phainon laughed weakly, pulling his glasses off temporarily to rub at the corners of his eyes. “I doubt that.”

Through the phone, Phainon heard the double click of a car unlocking, followed by a door opening and closing. “Well, anyway, thank you. We’ll have a great time, I promise. Maybe you’ll get as invested as me.”

Oh, come on, was she doing that on purpose? It was like everything she said was designed to make Phainon choke on his secrets.

“Maybe. Or, maybe, I’m just going for the drinks.”

“You heartless man!” Cyrene declared through laughter. Somewhere behind her voice, the sound of a car engine rumbling to life echoed. “And a liar. I know you’re coming because you just love and appreciate me so much, right?”

Above him, the speaker in the train carriage announced the approach of the next stop. Phainon’s stop.

“Right, of course,” Phainon replied lightheartedly.

“I have to go now, but don’t forget about it, okay~?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make a note.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to it! Bye then, Phainon. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

The call ended just as Phainon’s train pulled to a stop at his station. He let his hand drop from his ear, and the phone suddenly felt heavier than before. The doors slid open, and immediately he was ushered out amongst the crowd.

His feet carried him like clockwork, steady pillars that’d keep him moving even as his thoughts started to circle one, damning truth.

In one month, he’d be meeting Mydei, and he was so fucked.

౨ৎ

Standing outside the building for the CALAMITY pop-up, Phainon felt strangely vulnerable. Out of place like a glaring anomaly in a consistent set of data.

He’d tried to carry over that casual sort of confidence he usually had when he was in a lecture hall, even though he was dressed up with less layers and less buttons, but looking at the rest of the crowd entering the building, he still felt like he wasn’t meant to be here.

“You look like you’re about to explode,” Cyrene teased, poking his arm with a manicured finger. “Relax! You’re going to have fun.”

Cyrene looked much better suited for the atmosphere than he did, with her colourfully layered prints and sparkling jewellery, high-heeled boots and patterned tights, deliberately chosen pieces that made it seem like she’d planned the entire thing weeks ago. Meanwhile, Phainon basically just lost his usual blazer and tie combination and called it a night.

It wasn’t due to a lack of effort. It was just that if he put in too much effort, which he probably would given the very likely possibility of him meeting Mydei, he’d end up looking like a fool.

But he kept his glasses. Cyrene’s orders.

“I can wear contacts,” he’d offered that afternoon, already folding his glasses up because it was not in his best interest to carry his nerdy countenance into a place where nerds surely did not exist.

Cyrene had gasped, scurried over, picked his glasses back up and slid them back onto his face. “Absolutely not. They make you charming!”

“I have a plus eight prescription. They do not make me charming,” he replied flatly.

“Nonsense,” she chided, flicking his hair from his forehead. “Keep them. And while you’re at it, let me decide on the rest of your outfit.”

“...I can dress myself perfectly fine.”

Cyrene had levelled him with a look that screamed you-absolutely-cannot-you-idiot, and so he’d shut up, and let her pick his outfit.

In the end, they settled on a simple white shirt with the top few buttons undone and sleeves rolled to his elbows, and some simple slacks. Hard to go wrong with an outfit that basic, right?

“Alright, let’s go! I want to say hi to Cipher again,” Cyrene chirped, grabbing Phainon’s arm and dragging him forward towards his inevitable demise.

In any other circumstances, Phainon would have no problem with entering a busy, social event like this one – socialising had always been a strong suit of his – but that dawning possibility of Mydei made his skin clammy and his heart beat on the wrong side of rapid.

The interior of the building had been decorated specially for the pop-up, and possibly also for the deterioration of Phainon’s sanity. As they walked through the entryway, there were multiple posters of front covers of CALAMITY volumes, and Phainon’s eyes helplessly snagged on the ones with Mydei on.

Mydei in a white silk slip dress on one, and Mydei’s tattooed, muscular back accentuated by a black bralette in another.

Phainon had to swallow and forcibly stare at the back of Cyrene’s head.

She led him through an open doorway with beaded curtains, and the hallway opened up into a room already filled with life and laughter. A bar on the left side had bodies leant against it, and people had claimed most of the small dining tables littered about the floor. A stage took up the far side with three microphones set up and rows of chairs lined up before it. Clusters of people gathered in different places around the room, presumably surrounding tables, but Phainon couldn’t really see anyway.

“Busy in here,” he muttered, just loud enough for only Cyrene to hear over the dull drone of voices.

Automatically, his eyes glazed over the people for any sign of blonde hair or red tattoos. He felt antsy in a way that he never normally was, and every second that he didn’t see Mydei somehow made him more on edge. Was he even here? Was there any possibility that Phainon could get through tonight without making an absolute fool of himself?

“I’m not surprised. You know, CALAMITY’s actually a lot more popular than I thou– Cipher!”

Cyrene’s grip suddenly tightened around Phainon’s wrist again as she yanked him forward in, what Phainon assumed must be, Cipher’s direction. He yelped as she led him through the crowd with determination, and soon, a large table with a crowd around it came into Phainon’s view.

Cipher stood on one side of the table, dressed up in a distressed tank top, denim mini shorts and fishnets, talking to Castorice who sat on a chair in a dark off-shoulder sweater with billowing sleeves as she signed prints. Cyrene eagerly slipped between people with Phainon in tow until they came to an abrupt stop, close enough that Cipher glanced up from her conversation.

“Oh, it’s you!” Cipher called, giving a small wave in their direction. “Cyrene, right?”

Cyrene’s excitement practically radiated off her in waves of glitter. “Yes, you remembered! That’s me. And— oh, Titans, Castorice, hello!”

Castorice looked up from the print she was signing and smiled. “Hi, thank you for coming,” she said softly. “Give me a moment, if that’s alright.”

“Take your time, don’t worry about it!” Cyrene said at a pitch slightly too high to say she wasn’t freaking out at least a little.

Phainon was tuning half of his attention into their interaction, and the other half into watching the rest of the room in case a certain blonde-haired orange-eyed man appeared. Not that he was waiting, or anything. Actually, he was pretty sure he might run if he saw him. But it was weird, right? Both Cipher and Castorice were here. Where was Mydei?

“Who’s your distracted little friend?” Cipher asked, raising an eyebrow, and the mention of him made Phainon immediately look back at them.

“Oh, this is Phainon! He’s never read CALAMITY, but I showed it to him a few months ago so I thought I’d bring him along,” Cyrene explained, and Phainon almost winced at the mistruth of it.

Cipher looked intrigued by this information, if the slowly drawled “ohhh?” was any indication. “Never read it, huh?” she questioned, a smile forming on her lips. “Is that why you look so terrified?”

“Terrified?” Phainon echoed, forcing his voice steady because, alright, yeah, he was a little bit nervous. But again, not because of the event itself! Because Mydei’s location was still unknown, and Phainon didn’t know how long he’d have to prepare himself for the inevitable, if he had any more time at all.

“Yeah. You look like you’re about to piss yourself. Lighten up, we don’t bite,” Cipher said lightly, poking her tongue out. “Well. Unless you ask,” she added, before glancing sideways at Castorice.

Castorice looked up, blinked once, before returning to signing a print someone had given her. Cipher sighed dreamily and returned her attention to Phainon.

“I just don’t really go out much,” Phainon said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. “It’s just quite the change of pace.”

Cipher barked out a laugh. “In other words, you’re a virgin? Or just a sexual wreck?”

“I’m not a vir–”

“Yeah, try saying that again when you’re not fidgeting on your feet like you’re halfway to running out the door.”

Cyrene seemed to find Cipher endlessly funny, giggling along with her. Phainon absolutely did not find this funny, because, number one, he was not, actually, a virgin, and number two, he was only fidgeting because he still had no idea where Mydei was, and the idea of him suddenly sneaking up on them made his skin crawl.

“Ah, anyway, I’m only teasing,” Cipher reassured him. “If there’s any place to get more familiar with your sexual side, I would highly recommend one of our events.”

“Cipher,” Castorice said suddenly, her gentler voice contrasting Cipher’s like night and day, “you cannot just advertise our events as sex parties.”

“Aw, why, princess?!” Cipher exclaimed, turning to look at her with a pout on her face. Castorice had joined Cipher’s side now, so Cipher leaned into her. “They basically are. I blame Mydei, actually.”

It was almost comical, the way the mere mention of Mydei’s name made Phainon snap his gaze from a distant cluster of people back to Cipher. Like a dog hearing the treat bag rustle. It was instinctive, either just to check if his name meant he was approaching, or just so he could hear more about him.

“How is it Mydei’s fault?” Castorice asked, steadying a hand on Cipher’s waist.

“Because he’s hot?” Cipher offered.

“He is very pretty,” Cyrene added helpfully.

“See! She gets it. What about you, pretty boy?”

Phainon blinked. “What about me?”

“You think Mydei’s hot?”

Phainon’s heart nearly stopped, because yes, yes, he did think Mydei was hot. He was the current object of all of Phainon’s unrealistic desires, the absolute pinnacle of tempting beauty, and so Phainon should definitely not answer that question.

He opened his mouth to speak, hesitant, careful to choose the right words. “I don’t—”

“He probably doesn’t even remember who Mydei is,” Cyrene mentioned. She started to absentmindedly twirl a pink strand of hair around her finger, completely unaware of the way she'd just saved Phainon from humiliation. “It’s been months since you last saw a picture of him, right?”

Thank the Titans, Phainon thought, incredibly thankful for the lifeline Cyrene unintentionally just gave him. “Yeah, I haven’t really kept up with you guys. I, ah, forgot. What he looks like.”

Cipher narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhm. Kinda suspicious. Mydei’s not the kinda guy you just forget about.”

Well, true. Phainon found it physically, mentally, emotionally impossible to truly remove Mydei from his mind. But he didn’t enjoy how easily she found something to scrutinise in his answer.

Then, Cipher grinned with all her teeth, sharp as a blade. “Bet you secretly look at his pictures all the time. Bet you fantasi–”

Castorice clasped her hand over Cipher’s mouth before she could finish, resulting in the shorter girl to release muffled laughter into her palm. “That’s enough, Cipher,” she murmured, a gentle scolding that was hardly a scolding at all, really. “Stop objectifying our friend, and stop making assumptions about strangers.”

“Who’s being objectified?”

Oh.

Oh no.

Ohhh, no, no, no, that was not who Phainon thought it was. That deep, velvet voice from behind him that just breathed a chill up Phainon’s spine. That shift in the atmosphere as someone approached, carrying with them an unshakeable sort of confidence. That dreaded, but perfect, body—

“Hi, Mydei,” Castorice greeted quietly.

Mydei appeared on Phainon’s other side with a glass of something red in his hand. Ringed hand, too. Silver bands wrapped around almost every digit and Phainon’s mind unwillingly slipped somewhere it shouldn’t.

“Hey.” Oh, fuck, Mydei’s voice was better than anything Phainon’s feeble mind ever imagined.

Phainon forced his gaze up from his hand to meet Mydei’s eyes, just as Mydei looked at him. Their eyes locked. Phainon’s heart skipped more beats than what would be considered healthy.

Mydei’s eyes were more piercing in real life, and especially up close. He’d seen them plenty of times in pictures, and, embarrassingly, in his own mind, but the real thing was… something else. It didn’t help that Mydei’s gaze bore into him like he was trying to pull Phainon apart with eye contact alone.

And Phainon, who had consistently made enough bad decisions over the past few months to justify making a few more reckless ones, held it. They stared for what felt like minutes, even though it must’ve been only seconds.

Mydei’s head tilted at some point, just a fraction, like he was trying to figure something out about Phainon that Phainon didn’t even know was being questioned. Fuck, he was this twisted over eye contact alone?!

“Mydei! Welcome, welcome.” Cipher had managed to pry her mouth free from Castorice’s palm, and gestured grandly at their little group. “So kind of you to finally grace us with your presence. Were you hiding somewhere?”

“No.” Mydei broke eye contact then, and Phainon immediately found himself wanting it back. “I got a drink and spoke to some people.”

“Hmm. So, ditching us.”

“I didn’t ditch you.”

“Ditched us! Anyway!” Cipher clapped her hands. “Mydei, this is Cyrene,” she said, making a gesture in her direction, to which Mydei nodded in greeting. “And that,” she continued, now waving towards Phainon, “is Phainon. Cyrene’s friend.”

That made Mydei look back, and Phainon subtly straightened his back once those eyes landed on him again. “Phainon,” Mydei echoed, nodding slowly.

“Mm,” Phainon confirmed. “Nice to meet you.”

After Mydei’s arrival, Phainon was distracted, and that was putting it lightly. He couldn’t stop his eyes from darting sideways every now and again, before catching himself and forcing them away. He was stuck between two wants, swinging between both like a pendulum: desperately wanting to look and absorb the sight of Mydei into his mind, and not wanting to look at all because he knew his thoughts would sidetrack somewhere unforgivable, and fast.

The five of them talked steadily for a while. They meshed well, and the trio even entertained conversation about Phainon and Cyrene’s careers. Maybe it was delusion, which seemed likely, but Phainon thought he saw Mydei giving him a long look after he mentioned being a psychology professor.

Phainon managed to maintain some semblance of normality, besides the occasional wandering of his eyes. Unfortunately, the more they talked, the more Phainon started to think his problem was going to get even worse.

With Mydei no longer simply being an ideal in his head, but a real, living, breathing person standing right next to him, Phainon found himself wanting in irrational quantities. Every blunt, slightly sharp bantering comment from Mydei made Phainon wonder if he’d sound the same in bed. He’d smirk occasionally, and Phainon would think about making those pretty lips do something else. He’d fold his arms, muscles faintly visible beneath the sleeves of his black dress shirt, and Phainon would remember how his arms looked with the slip of a bra strap on the shoulder instead of cotton formalwear.

And it would, literally, be a dream come true if Phainon could act on those thoughts, but… He had his hesitations. If Mydei knew just how long Phainon had been fantasising about him before they’d even met, would he think it was weird? Alternatively, if Phainon just never told him, would it even matter? Although it might weigh heavily on Phainon’s conscience if he didn’t come clean. But then again, Phainon probably wouldn’t even get to go anywhere with Mydei tonight, so why was he even stressed? Just be normal, and stop staring, and—

“Hey. What’s your problem?”

Phainon felt those eyes on him again. “What?”

“You. You keep looking at me,” Mydei accused.

Ah. So much for “stop staring.”

“Do I?” Phainon questioned, feigning innocence.

“Yes. You’ve had your eyes on me non-stop for two minutes.”

Across from them, Cipher wolf- whistled.

“Oh?” Phainon cocked his head in a display of sudden confidence. Or maybe just recklessness. “So you were staring too?”

Mydei scoffed. “No. I just happened to look.”

Phainon felt a little flicker of (potentially deluded) pride behind his ribcage. Had Mydei been looking at him too?

“You happened to look long enough to know I was looking at you non-stop?” Phainon continued, unable to stop pressing the button once it’d shown itself.

“So you confess to it. Why were you staring?”

“My eyes just landed there.”

“Eyes do not just land directly to your left.”

“Maybe it just looked like I was looking at you. I do have glasses.” Phainon gave his frames a slight wiggle. “Corrective lenses can alter perceived eye size. Maybe they alter eye direction, too.”

Mydei narrowed his eyes. “That’s not how glasses work.”

“I don’t see you wearing glasses. Is your opinion really creditable?”

“Wooooow, guys,” Cipher drawled, interrupting their bickering. “The sexual tension is, like—” she whistled, pitch increasing, as she demonstrated an upwards peak with her arm. “I got chills.”

Mydei turned to look at her and scowled. “Thanks, Cipher,” he muttered, and now he pointedly did not look at Phainon anymore.

Huh. Phainon was struggling to figure out what angle Mydei was coming at him from then, but something about it made satisfaction settle in his bones. That, and the fact that Mydei’s ears looked a little pink. But maybe that was just the lighting.

"Anyway. I think I want to grab a drink,” Castorice said. “Does anyone want anything?”

“I’ll grab them,” Mydei piped up again. “I wanted a refill anyway. What do you all want?”

Phainon glanced over at Mydei again, and he could’ve sworn there was a blush on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. Was he embarrassed? Oh, how cute.

They all gave Mydei their drinks orders, and then he slipped away, disappearing through the crowd until Phainon could see him no more. The girls resumed their conversation – Cyrene was asking about Castorice’s art – but Phainon, predictably, remained distracted. It seemed with or without Mydei’s presence, he couldn’t focus on anything else but the man himself.

He lasted about forty-five seconds before he interrupted. “Just gonna find the bathroom real quick,” he said hastily, before stepping away from their conversation before anyone could object or make comments.

Instead of following the taped up paper signs reading “BATHROOM ->”, he trailed the same path that Mydei took through the crowd until he reached the bar. And then, he followed the glimpse of Mydei’s hair a small distance away, until he was filling the space beside him. He settled there slowly, and silence stretched until Mydei broke it.

“Got any more terrible theories about how glasses look different from the outside?” Mydei asked dryly, gaze still focused on the back wall of the bar instead of at Phainon.

Despite the heavy beat of his heart and the nerves bubbling in his gut, Phainon grinned. “No, but if theories are what you want, I’ve got a bunch related to why you got embarrassed back there.”

Mydei glanced sideways. “I did not get embarrassed.”

“Your cheeks are pink.”

“You’re imagining it.”

“Like how I was imagining you looking at me?”

“Don’t start.”

Phainon chuckled at that, leaning a little closer to Mydei on instinct. He caught a wisp of Mydei's cologne, something earthy mixed with pomegranate, Phainon thought. “Sorry, sorry. Seriously, though, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Honest.”

Mydei pursed his lips as the silence lingered, until he broke it again. “You’re the one who kept bickering. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s you.”

“Oh, come on,” Phainon said through laughter. “I apologise and you throw it back at me?”

“Well, it wasn’t a very good apology.”

Phainon sighed, still smiling. And, making another reckless decision, he blurted out: “Would it be better if I got on my knees, then?”

They both paused, and Phainon immediately wanted to grab those words and shove them right back down his throat, because what the hell?! Did he have no filter? No self-control? No–

Alright, no, he didn’t have self-control. But, seriously, why did he let that come out of his mouth?

“Phainon.” Mydei’s voice was a little rougher. “You said you’ve never read CALAMITY, didn’t you?”

Strange change of topic, Phainon thought, but… alright. “Yeah, I did say that. Why?”

Mydei hummed. “Alright.” He straightened up, pushing off the counter. “Wait here. Grab the drinks if they’re finished before I’m back.” And then he vanished again, swallowed up by the moving maze of people.

Phainon was confused, but, dutifully, he waited. He let his mind drift as his gaze flitted over the people at the bar, thanking the bartender when they slid five drinks towards him. He focused on keeping them close, until he felt the fleeting brush of fabric against his arm.

Oh, fuck.

Wow, Phainon was having a lot of ‘oh, fuck’ moments tonight, wasn’t he?

Mydei had returned to his space beside Phainon, but this time much closer to him, close enough that their elbows nearly touched. Mydei placed the fifth edition of CALAMITY between them, and Phainon’s mind immediately retrieved memories of exactly which of Mydei’s photoshoots were tucked amongst those glossy pages. He bit his lip, and pointedly focused on the wooden bar top instead of Mydei’s face or the magazine.

“That’s your magazine?” he asked roughly, overly aware of the tiny sliver of space between their arms.

“No, it’s a gun,” Mydei deadpanned.

Phainon huffed a laugh, suppressing the flush creeping up his cheeks at the callout of his stupid question. “Funny.”

“Mm.” Mydei reached between them, flipping open the magazine to the first page. It was innocent enough, nothing that would send Phainon’s mind straight to the gutter. “Do you know much about it?”

Phainon, who knew far too much about it, shook his head. “Not really.”

Mydei then proceeded to give a brief but heartfelt run-down of the magazine, and Phainon was immediately drawn in by the simple things. Simple things like the cadence of Mydei's voice, the fondness laced between when he spoke of his friends, the pride touching the edges of his words when he mentioned CALAMITY's volume that blew up on social media.

“Castorice does most of the illustrations,” Mydei explained, flipping to a page showing a deliberate swirl of pink, orange and white, twisted together to emulate an embrace, expressions of pure pleasure depicted in the mix.

“That’s beautiful,” Phainon said truthfully.

“It is.” Mydei turned the page, now with someone else’s art piece, with their social media credited just beneath.

He kept flicking through like that, page after page, but somehow kept missing the pictures of himself that Phainon knew they were going past. Every time Phainon thought ‘the next page has Mydei’, Mydei skipped two pages and kept flicking through, showing Phainon everything else.

So, perplexed, and keeping up the pretense of knowing nothing about the magazine, he asked. “What do you do? For the magazine, I mean. Do you write, or something?”

Mydei flipped a page, finger brushing the corner. “I model.”

“Model?” Phainon repeated.

“Yes.”

“...Model what?” Model the exact shape of your ruin, Phainon’s brain supplied.

“Lingerie.”

Phainon nodded. Chewed his lip a little. Tried not to think too hard about the image.

That ended up being a fruitless endeavour anyway, because then Mydei chose to flip to one of his photoshoots, and Phainon swiftly looked away. Just flicked his eyes up at the ceiling. Even though he wanted to look, because he knew that photoshoot was the one where Mydei was in a cornflower blue two-piece with the bra and g-string decorated with forget-me-nots sewed into the fabric, and was one that made Phainon particularly weak.

If he looked, he was going to get an erection in his trousers right there and then.

“This is one of my favourites,” Mydei said idly, pushing the magazine an inch closer to Phainon, as if he could tell that he wasn’t looking. His voice was a little softer now, slower, like he wanted Phainon to feel the syllables in every word prickle his skin.

“Uh-huh?” Phainon replied, slightly strained, because he still was not looking.

It was then that Mydei must’ve caught his avoidant look. He sighed. “You’re allowed to look, Phainon. That’s half the point.”

Slowly, so slowly, Phainon let his eyes drift down to the bar, to the picture. And once his eyes landed on that life-ruining picture of Mydei spread out on white sheets in blue, he felt every bubble of desire he was trying so hard to keep contained, threaten to overflow.

He almost couldn’t believe that the Mydei in that picture was the one standing next to him now. The same eyes, same hair, same tattoos over the same muscles, all translated from ink into flesh, and Phainon couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

“What do you think?” Mydei asked.

“What do I—?”

“Do you like it?” he pressed, tilting his head to one side, exposing the long line of his neck. Phainon tried not to think about how many times he’d kissed the dream-version of that neck.

“It’s— yeah, I like it. It’s really… yeah. You look—”

Mydei waited. Then, he smirked. “Very coherent.”

Phainon made a strangled sound and rubbed a hand down his face. “Don’t do that to me.”

Mydei huffed under his breath, a breathy sort of laugh. “You’re so strange,” he mused, leaning his cheek against a fist. With his other hand, he reached out and poked the side of Phainon’s frames. “Do those glasses not help you see what’s right in front of you?”

Phainon’s entire soul nearly left his body. “Sorry?”

Mydei sighed. “Do I need to spell it out for you, Phainon?”

Phainon blinked. Replayed the last few interactions in his head. Had the epiphany that, yes, Mydei was definitely flirting with him, for some inexplicable reason that no method of experimentation or conduction of research could explain.

He reached up to fix his glasses. “No, no, I think it’s— I think I got it,” he said weakly.

“Good.” Mydei leaned back, taking the warmth with him, and picked up three out of five of the drinks glasses. “Come find me once we’re all done here.”

“Oh. Ah, why, exactly?” Phainon called out in question, even as Mydei already started to merge with the crowd again.

Phainon stared at the space Mydei occupied just moments ago, now left empty with only the residual scent of his cologne. He wanted him to come back. He wanted to know what he was thinking. He, glancing at the magazine still left on the bar, wanted Mydei to open every edition and show him all of his favourite photoshoots.

Fuck, how the hell had he got himself in this position?

Phainon blew out a shaky breath, then grabbed his and Cyrene’s drinks from the bar, and followed Mydei’s ghost back towards the group across the room.

౨ৎ

The rest of the CALAMITY pop-up event passed by in a blur, largely because Phainon was too focused on the mystery of what he was meant to be doing after it to focus on being present every second.

Come find me once we’re all done here, Mydei had said, and now Phainon was doing what he did best. Fantasising and chasing unwound threads – because what did Mydei want?

When Cipher, Mydei and Castorice took to their little stage, Phainon and Cyrene had sat in the second row near the side. There, they listened to the trio talk about how CALAMITY came to be, their motivations for each edition, what it meant to them, their plans for the future, and any other topics proposed by the Q&A.

Phainon listened with rapt attention, and found himself being drawn further into their world the more they talked about it, which surprised him. Sure, he already found the magazine interesting at a basic level, but after hearing their anecdotes, he started to find himself curious about things he’d never thought about before. Castorice expressed her struggle with desiring intimacy solely for pleasure; Cipher talked about her journey unlearning strict expectations when embodying power dynamics in the bedroom; Mydei explained the fluidity of gender expression and how it doesn’t always necessarily correlate to identification.

He had watched Mydei closely whenever he spoke, enthralled by every word that came out of his mouth. Beyond simple lust and his attraction, he found it fascinating to hear Mydei talk about what lingerie modelling did for his self-confidence.

“A younger version of me wouldn’t have imagined himself wearing anything remotely feminine,” he had said. “I was still navigating what being trans looked and felt like to me, and sometimes, that led to me hypermasculinising myself because I felt like I had to compensate for what I didn’t grow up with.

But, gradually, I developed support systems. They gave me the confidence to try exploring different gender expressions to find what made me comfortable. Not just in how I dress, but also my sexuality and desires. It wasn’t an easy journey, but I learned a lot about myself. Now, in this body that I worked hard for, I can wear something feminine and still feel like a man, and I don't second-guess my masculinity.

It brings me peace knowing I have that freedom. I like being able to dress myself in changing standards of masculinity or femininity and still feel like I have a firm understanding of who I am. Like I said, that’s not a feeling that I learned overnight, but one I had to build. I think that self-construction is part of what makes modelling so important to me. Every photoshoot I do, and every magazine we publish, is proof that I’ve learnt how to express my understanding of my gender without guilt.

That’s why I think it’s important that we keep making CALAMITY. If younger queer people don’t have support systems like I did, I’d want them to have this.”

At the end of it all, Phainon applauded along with the rest of the audience, and every fibre in his body called Mydei’s name. Even if Mydei hadn’t already told him to meet afterwards, Phainon thought he would have gone anyway, if just to highlight his newfound respect for him and his attitudes towards the magazine.

He murmured a quick, “I’ll be right back, just gonna talk to Mydei,” to Cyrene, before briskly walking across the room to where Mydei had already stepped off the stage.

Mydei paused mid-sip of water, furrowing his eyebrows in Phainon’s direction when he suddenly appeared in front of him. “That was fast,” he commented, wiping stray droplets from his mouth.

Phainon smiled, slightly embarrassed, but determined anyway. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting. Plus, I wanted to say something.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“What you were talking about up there… That was really good. Or, at least, I thought so.”

Mydei tilted his head. “Really?” he drawled.

“Ah, yes? I’ve, um, never thought much about gender. But I liked what you said. I think what you said about… lingerie giving you confidence was really inspiring.” Phainon nodded sincerely. “I’m glad your magazine exists. You should be proud.”

“Oh.” Mydei’s eyes widened by a fraction, before his entire face seemed to soften. “Thank you.” He paused, glancing to one side. “Does that mean you’ll stop looking like you’re about to explode the next time you look at me in lingerie?”

Phainon flushed so hard that his entire body warmed. “I wasn’t—! I just, I didn’t expect you to suddenly show me. I—”

“Mm. Do you want to find out? If you’ll explode, that is.”

Phainon’s legs felt unsteady. “Like, showing me another picture?”

Mydei started to walk towards the far side of the room, and Phainon, undeniably helpless to everything that Mydei did, followed him without question.

“Something like that,” Mydei murmured vaguely.

Something like that? What did that mean? What is ‘something like’ showing me another picture of him in lingerie? Phainon wondered, his synapses firing on all cylinders.

He didn’t have much time to think about the what-ifs and the if-nots, because he suddenly felt a sharp tug on the front of his shirt, and released a startled yelp as he stumbled forward, straight into Mydei’s chest. He blinked rapidly as he made sense of the change in scenery: a dimly lit bathroom, a long counter of sinks, Mydei’s body between him and the counter, the unexpected press of their hips.

Oh Titans. Phainon could’ve fainted.

“Tell me something, Phainon,” Mydei murmured, running his thumb back and forth over the fold of Phainon’s white shirt collar. “Have you really never read CALAMITY before?”

“What?” Phainon croaked, forcing his eyes up to look at Mydei’s face and not the slip of exposed collarbones slightly south.

“You have this guilty air about you,” Mydei commented casually. “Like you desperately want to look but think you shouldn’t.”

Shit. Was he really that obvious?

Anyway, he can’t exactly confess to the truth. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

…Could he?

“Like I said, I was just… surprised.”

“In a bad way?”

“No! No, of course not, Mydei, I—”

Mydei laughed. “Defensive.”

Phainon exhaled. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yes, astute observation. Are you always this smart when you’re teaching, too?”

“So you remembered that.”

“Mhm.” Mydei’s thumb skated higher, very lightly brushing the hollow of Phainon’s neck. “What about you? What do you remember?”

“About?”

“About me.”

Far too fucking much, Phainon thought. His pulse did something violent in his chest, and his fingers twitched where they were braced on the counter on either side of Mydei’s body. His jaw clenched then relaxed as he tried to force some kind of rational response.

“The forget-me-not set is one of your favourites,” Phainon said quietly, recalling what Mydei had said at the bar.

“Wow,” Mydei drawled. “You could tell what flowers were used in the set? You only looked at it for, what, thirty seconds? Someone’s observant.”

Phainon wanted to dig a hole and lie in it. Why did he keep doing that? Letting his mouth run before his brain caught up. That wasn’t really like him. Perhaps it was just Mydei frying his ability to think.

“Observant… or you’re more familiar with CALAMITY than you’re letting on. Tell me the truth, Phainon.”

Fuckshitfuckshitfuckshitfuck.

Phainon swallowed, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He was so fucking screwed. Every muscle in his body held enough tension that he nearly shook with it.

Mydei sighed, and shifted his hips. Their crotches brushed and Phainon had to bite the edges of his own tongue. “Phainon. I’m not asking for a scientific breakthrough. Is this really so hard?”

There were a lot of hard things present in the current scenario. The truth, the effort not to look down Mydei’s shirt, Phainon’s cock.

“Fine.”

Phainon blinked as Mydei let go of his collar, and instead unbuttoned the next button of his own shirt. The shirt parted just enough for Mydei to adjust it to slip one shoulder down, but keep the rest of his chest covered.

For the one billionth time that night, Phainon felt his tongue turn to sandpaper. With the adjustment of his shirt, Mydei had revealed a singular, dark red bra strap following the line of his shoulder, along with the very top edge of the bra cup. Phainon could see a small, black bow sewed into the side, and the beginnings of flower-shaped lace around the edge.

He instantly recognised it, and just as he’d conditioned himself to do every time he saw lingerie on Mydei’s body, he felt desire stir in his gut.

“Different question,” Mydei murmured, hands returning to Phainon’s collar. “Can you tell which set I’m wearing?”

“How would I know that?” Phainon asked, his voice trembling.

“I get the feeling that you do. Just guess.”

Mydei stared up at him, lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks from the lighting, and Phainon felt his self-control waver. Mydei seemed like he already had Phainon all figured out. Realistically, what was the use in keeping up appearances now?

So, with another shaky breath, he shut his eyes and quickly pushed the words out before he could rationalise it and tell himself not to. “I— I think you wore it in the eleventh edition. The… there’s flowery lace around the bottom edge of the bra and on the top half of the cups. It has, um, a frilly garter belt, but I don’t know if you’re wearing that today, and, the, um, the… it has a g-string, I think. That’s also… quite… lacy.”

He trailed off eventually, mostly because Mydei was just staring at him with widened eyes and slightly parted lips. He looked stunned. And stunning, but that was besides the point. Stunned, more than anything.

“I’m sorry,” Phainon blurted immediately, suddenly desperate for damage control. “I only lied because I—I was embarrassed. Your pictures are so, so fucking beautiful, Mydei, and I’ve been, just, looking at them for a while. But I felt guilty because it— it’s weird, right? Like, I was seeing you and formulating an opinion on you before you ever knew of me, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Phainon.”

Phainon clamped his mouth shut with an audible click.

“I don’t care. If anything, I like that someone found my photos good enough to get this worked up about it.”

Phainon’s breath hitched. Mydei wasn’t disturbed, or uncomfortable at all. No, he liked that Phainon had lost his mind over him.

Mydei trailed his hands upwards, fingertips ghosting over Phainon’s jaw, his cheeks, until he reached his glasses and pulled them off. Phainon blinked at the sudden blurriness, but through the haze, he could make out Mydei going to slide them onto his own face.

“I will admit, your attention to detail is impressive,” he mused as he slipped them on. “Is it the glasses? Do they— holy, fuck, your eyesight is shit,” he interrupted, a surprised laugh bubbling out of him.

Phainon did not give a single fuck about the insult. How could he? Mydei was right there, pressed against him, shirt slipping from his shoulder, bra strap on display, with Phainon’s – Phainon’s! – glasses on his nose. It was like something straight out of his dreams.

“Phainon?”

Mydei raised his hand again, this time to push some of Phainon’s hair back from his forehead. Mydei’s fingers slid through the strands, warm and a little rough, but before his hand could untangle from his hair, Phainon’s restraint... snapped.

He collapsed forward, hands immediately finding their place on Mydei’s body – one cupping the back of his head, the other on his waist – as his lips crashed into Mydei’s like a torrent of waves smashing into the shore.

Mydei responded immediately, a surprised moan spilling from his lips and getting muffled between their mouths. He grabbed onto Phainon’s arms and let Phainon push him backwards until he was fully seated on the counter, legs wrapped around Phainon’s waist.

The kiss was messy, with Phainon pouring months of never-truly-satisfied desire into it, his greedy hands trailing all over Mydei’s torso like he wanted to map every plane of muscle he’d seen but never got to really touch. His hand slipped beneath Mydei’s shirt in seconds, stroking warm skin and pulling him closer, closer, until they were rubbing their crotches together in unison.

It was fast, how they went from the shaky line of almost to the all-consuming frenzy of yes, yes, yes. Mydei tugged on Phainon’s hair to pull him even closer, gasping into his mouth when Phainon breached the seam of his lips with his tongue.

The hunger that Phainon hadn’t been able to properly satiate was finally being fed, and he was taking his fill like there was nothing else he could do. Mydei filled all his senses, and finally, he was being allowed to drown in him like he’d dreamed of for so long.

Phainon couldn’t fucking see since Mydei was still wearing his glasses, but the knowledge that Mydei wanted to put them on, and was now keeping them there, was far more enticing than being able to see. So, instead, Phainon let his other senses do the work, touching Mydei on his inner thigh, his ribcage, kissing his jaw until a whine slipped out, mouthing at his neck until he rasped a “please.”

Phainon gripped Mydei’s thigh and pulled him closer, holding his thigh over his hipbone to keep him in place as they rocked together. Mydei’s head fell back on a pleased moan, glasses tilting, as Phainon deliberately rubbed his clothed erection against him. The sight and sound of it made Phainon groan under his breath.

“You’re so— fuck, so into this,” Mydei choked out, fingers tightening on Phainon’s shoulders. “Acting like you’ve dreamed about it.”

Phainon bit his lip, then chose to shut down that line of questioning by kissing it right out of Mydei’s mouth.

Mydei moaned into it, chased Phainon every time he shifted. “Have you dreamed about it?” he still managed to ask against his mouth, before capturing Phainon’s lips again like he was the one starved without it.

“Maybe,” Phainon murmured. “A— a couple of times.”

Understatement of the year, really.

A trembling, rasp of laughter left Mydei’s mouth. “Unbelievable. You are— fuck, oh, fuck— shameless.”

Phainon cupped Mydei’s jaw. “I was actually quite ashamed about it.”

“Good,” Mydei gasped. “It’s embarrassing. Dreaming about— about someone you’ve never met. You’re lucky you’re—” he cut himself off on a throaty whine when Phainon tugged him closer again, crotches rubbing more firmly.

“I’m lucky I’m what?” Phainon asked, pressing one final kiss to Mydei’s mouth before peppering them down his jaw, his neck, sucking marks into the skin.

“Shut up, I didn’t—”

“No, go on,” Phainon urged, tongue dragging up Mydei’s neck to make him shiver.

“Fuck, oh Titans, what happened to the guilty wreck I dragged in here?” Mydei asked, his voice rough with need now.

Phainon huffed a laugh into Mydei’s neck, lightly digging his teeth into his flesh. “Still a bit guilty,” he confessed. “But, now I know you like it.”

Mydei hissed when Phainon properly sank his teeth into the junction of his shoulder, rolling the skin between his teeth to suck a mark that would stay. A hand found its way into Phainon’s hair, pushing him down, encouraging him to keep going.

So he did. He trailed kisses and bites and harsh sucks down Mydei’s collarbone, until he was undoing another shirt button to further expose his chest, and the bra.

Just as he thought, it was the dark red set with flower-shaped lace, delicate petals decorating Mydei’s skin over his vibrant tattoos, and Phainon’s mouth almost watered at the sight. Without another thought, he started wetly kissing over the bra, tongue pressing flat against the fabric just to moisten it under his tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” Mydei groaned, grinding his clothed cunt against Phainon. He was going faster with it now, like he was chasing release right here in the bathroom. Mydei seemed to really like the attention to the bra, so what reason did Phainon have to stop?

Phainon mouthed over one bra cup, while massaging the other with his hand, fingers dipping inside the bra before pulling out again, and repeating the motion. The fabric grew wetter under his tongue, and soon, Phainon was sucking over the fabric covering Mydei’s nipple.

Mydei grit his teeth, breathing heavily, and ground down harder, and Phainon knew he must’ve been getting close. The fact Phainon managed to ruin him this much from friction alone made his arousal spike. Still, he pulled away from his chest, and returned to kissing the breath from his lips.

“Phainon,” Mydei breathed into his mouth, desperately humping against Phainon’s body now. “Please.”

“Are you gonna come?” Phainon whispered, biting softly at Mydei’s lip.

“Not if you— slow down—”

“What if I don’t want you to come yet?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I will kill you,” Mydei snapped, but it was weak, laced with desperation and needy breathlessness.

Phainon laughed warmly, leaning back in to kiss him again. “If you let me make you come on my tongue at my place, you can come now. Deal?”

“Who do you think you are, making deals when I’m about to— oh, fuck— fine, deal— Phainon, fuck—!”

Phainon held Mydei close, leisurely rocking his hips against his cunt again as Mydei tightened his grip around Phainon’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck as he shuddered through his orgasm. Phainon felt his glasses dig into his shoulder, but the sounds of Mydei moaning so close to his ear set him off first and foremost, and he pressed his forehead against Mydei’s temple as he spilled out in his trousers.

The two of them stayed there for a little while longer, rasping breaths mingling in the tiny space between them. Neither of them let go very quickly, and Phainon relished in that closeness for as long as possible, until Mydei pulled back with a shaky exhale.

“Well,” he breathed, reaching a hand up to try and fix the debauched mess of his hair. He pulled Phainon’s glasses off his face, now slightly foggy, and put them back on Phainon’s. “I believe I made a deal with you.”

With his vision now restored, Phainon could see the messed-up state Mydei had been left in. The state that Phainon left him in. Hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips bitten. Red marks already blooming at his neck, and a damp spot on his bra. He lit up, proud of his work, and eager at Mydei’s willingness to keep going. “Yeah?”

“Mm. Come on, then. Hurry.”

Phainon beamed and unwrapped his arms from Mydei’s waist, holding a hand out to help him off the counter. Mydei took it, albeit with a roll of his eyes, but Phainon caught the wisp of a smirk as he turned and started to leave the bathroom, buttoning up his shirt as he went.

Straight out of a dream, Phainon thought, a helplessly giddy sort of smile appearing on his lips, and it’s not even over yet.

౨ৎ

Seeing Mydei in his apartment was like bearing witness to one of those peculiar case studies that make all psychology professors wonder “how the fuck is this happening?”

That was exactly what was going through Phainon’s head. How the fuck did he manage to get Mydei into his apartment, with the promise of him being allowed to suck him off weighing between them?

He toed his shoes off at the entrance, polished dress shoes lined up beside Mydei’s studded boots, and followed after Mydei, who’d started wandering around on a self-led tour. He seemed to take interest in Phainon’s… everything, perhaps?

“You’re tidy,” he muttered sarcastically, reaching down to the coffee table to pick up a haphazardly abandoned stack of flashcards about brain mechanisms and function. He flicked through the first few, before putting them back where he found them.

“I just… try to be on top of things,” Phainon replied.

“Oh, yeah?” Mydei taunted, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t see you on top of me yet.”

Phainon’s breath shuddered, and he forced multiple steps forward until he was right in front of Mydei, hands settling at his waist. “Well…” he started, voice quieter. “Let’s change that, shall we?”

Seemingly pleased with this, Mydei looped his arms around Phainon’s neck and pulled him into a quick kiss. “Show me, then, professor.”

That shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but alas. Phainon sucked in a sharp breath, fingers tightening on Mydei’s waist to guide him backwards into the bedroom.

Mydei followed willingly, smiling up at Phainon as they went, until he was backed up against the bed and Phainon gently pushed him down onto the mattress.

Immediately, Phainon’s mind recalled one of many dreams like this, and he had to push the image away because now he had the real thing, and it was so much better. For once, it was easier to focus on the present. For once, the present was infinitely more enticing than what he had going on in his head.

Mydei shifted backwards on his elbows until his head fell onto the pillow. Phainon crawled over him, knee slotting between his legs. Just resting there, just present, for now.

“Is this where you dreamed about me?” Mydei asked teasingly.

Phainon groaned and dropped his head into Mydei’s shoulder to hide. “Stop. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Yes, it is, well done,” Mydei agreed. His hands threaded into Phainon’s hair again, playing with the fluffy strands, and Phainon leaned into it like a dog.

“You can’t blame me,” Phainon murmured petulantly, lifting his head to look at Mydei. He was so beautiful up-close. Nothing could ever compare to having him here, in the flesh, only inches from Phainon’s face. “You’re so pretty.”

Mydei smiled, a tiny, almost reluctant thing, and rolled his eyes again. “I still don’t see you doing anything about that.”

Phainon chuckled and pressed a slow kiss to Mydei’s collarbone, before leaning back to settle on his knees. “Then, let me.”

He leaned forward, fingers grasping the first button on Mydei’s shirt, and then waited, just looking at him. Tell me it’s okay.

“What, do you want my permission in thesis format?” Mydei asked dryly. He nodded, lifting his arms to fold them behind his head. “Go on.”

Phainon’s eyes lingered on Mydei’s biceps for longer than he meant, especially with how they flexed from that movement, but he managed to look back down as his hands started to move. Unhooking every button, slowly parting the fabric to reveal new inches of the lingerie and his skin underneath.

Phainon couldn’t help trailing his fingers over the lace of Mydei’s bra as he freed it from beneath the confines of his shirt. The texture of the fabric beneath his fingertips made his skin tingle, and he was captivated by, simply, the realness. The contrasting feeling of skin compared to lace felt so real, and Phainon wanted to touch and touch and touch until his fingers grew calluses from how much he’d held Mydei between them.

He was slow and careful with the removal process, reaching around Mydei’s back to slide the shirt from his shoulders and toss it away. With Mydei’s full torso on display, Phainon felt his need grow, but he was able to withhold it for now. He could take his time. There was no need to rush this.

After Mydei’s shirt came his own, and he threw it off with much less finesse, because he cared more for the absolute spectacle in the bed before him.

He leaned down to press a kiss against the base of Mydei’s ribcage, then trailed down, little offerings left at his altar from his belly to his pelvis, until his lips brushed the waistband of his trousers.

“You’re being very thorough,” Mydei mumbled. His voice sounded raspier than before, but the desperation in it was still very clear to Phainon.

Phainon hummed in agreement as he slowly undid Mydei’s trouser button and worked the zipper down. “I am. I’m always thorough.”

“Explains why you’re a professor then, huh?” Mydei remarked. He lifted his hips for Phainon to pull the trousers down past his ass, and angled his legs for Phainon to tug them off.

Phainon smiled to himself. “You always get better results when you’re thorough,” he confirmed, pulling the last trouser leg past Mydei’s ankle, before discarding it over the side of the bed somewhere.

Phainon’s breath hitched as he took in the sight laid out before him. Mydei laid out before him, in his bed, lazy-limbed and the perfect manifestation of all of Phainon’s desires. Red lace over white sheets, angular tattoos amongst the curls of a rumpled duvet, smudged makeup and a half-undone braid.

He wanted so fucking bad.

“What are you staring at?” Mydei asked.

“You. Just… just you.”

Mydei snorted. “Cliché.”

“No, I mean it. You’re just… so…” Words failed to come to Phainon then, as they frequently did around Mydei and the topic of him. So, instead, he communicated his desire through actions instead.

Phainon didn’t know where to start. There was so much of Mydei to touch, and he could hardly believe he truly had the freedom to touch him at all. But he did, and so first, he leaned down to Mydei’s collarbone and kissed along the sharp juts there.

Mydei sighed from above, a shaky, precious thing, and Phainon smiled against his skin.

“Are you this slow with all people you meet and fuck in the same day?” Mydei questioned.

Phainon tilted his head to blink up at him from where he’d settled against his chest. “No? I don’t even really do this much.”

“So, why?”

Phainon pursed his lips in thought, then pressed a kiss over Mydei’s sternum. “I’m quite taken by you, I think. Not just the idea of you anymore but, you. In my bed. Letting me touch you.”

Mydei huffed. “You sound certain.”

“I’m not,” Phainon corrected, shaking his head. “I’m just hopeful. I don’t usually lose my sense of rationality over things, but… Cyrene showed me one picture of you and all I could think of was how beautiful you'd look in person.”

He showed Mydei as much, kissing slowly over the bra, biting at the little bows before letting them go lest he tug too hard. He dragged his tongue over the lace trim, flattening it over Mydei’s skin, collecting the taste of him on his tongue, then going back in for more.

“You do look beautiful in lingerie, Mydei,” Phainon said softly as he dipped lower again, kissing all the way down his abdomen, occasionally biting for a little longer, just to leave more marks.

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Mydei rasped, his breath fluttering as Phainon bit into the flesh of his stomach.

“I know. But I want to, because it’s all I’ve thought about for a while.”

“You’re obsessed.”

Phainon grinned crookedly. “A little.”

Phainon continued his path of worship until he was licking stripes over the lace flower petals at the edges of the thong, drawing shudders from Mydei when he bit at his inner thighs.

“Phainon. Stop teasing,” Mydei whispered, gasping softly after the next lingering bite.

“Getting desperate, are we?” Phainon teased. He settled between Mydei’s thighs, carefully lifting one thigh over his shoulder. The feeling of déjà vu flitted through his mind, and he sucked in a sharp breath at the memory. To distract himself, he placed a kiss on Mydei’s covered cock.

“Anyone would with the speed you’re going,” Mydei hissed.

“Mm. You’re quite wet,” Phainon mused absentmindedly, bringing his free hand up to gently press against the wet patch in Mydei’s underwear.

Mydei inhaled quickly, tensing up. “Yes, well, in case you forgot, we both came in a public toilet earlier.”

“I didn’t forget,” Phainon reassured him, voice light. “Especially not about our deal.”

“Could’ve fooled me since you’re delaying it so mu— hah, fuck, Phainon—!” Mydei’s complaint broke off into a gasp and Phainon’s name when Phainon laved his tongue up from Mydei’s hole to his cock.

After that initial sound, Phainon hooked his finger in the side of Mydei’s underwear and tugged them out of the way, until he was met with the blessed sight of his cunt, wet and practically begging for attention. Phainon’s mouth watered at the sight, and he wasted no time in leaning forward to wrap his lips around Mydei’s cock, sucking it into his mouth with desperate care.

Almost immediately, Mydei bucked his hips up into Phainon’s face, and his hand tangled up in Phainon’s hair again, gripping hard. “Fuck…” he groaned from above.

Phainon grinned against his cunt, because as many times as he’d dreamed about this, the real thing surpassed it by miles. He could feel the needy pull of Mydei’s hand in his hair, could smell the desperation leaking from him, could properly feel how Mydei throbbed in his mouth.

He kept going, spurred on by each and every one of Mydei’s pleas and the gradual tightening of his thighs around Phainon’s head. Mydei rolled his hips, grinding his cunt against Phainon’s face in wanton pleasure as Phainon kept giving and giving and giving.

Phainon lifted his head from Mydei’s cunt, lips glistening with slick as he stared up at him. “Can I use my fingers, baby?”

Mydei nodded quickly, lifting his head from the pillow to meet Phainon’s gaze. “Do you have lube?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Phainon confirmed, rising onto his hands and knees to reach over Mydei to the nightstand. “What, you like it wet?”

Mydei huffed a laugh and covered his eyes with his forearm. “I guess. Feels better like that.”

Phainon nodded in understanding, opening the lube bottle to squirt it over his fingers. “Alright. I’ll make it nice and wet for you then, love.”

He used a generous amount of it, rubbing the liquid over Mydei’s cunt, spreading it over his cock and through his folds, until Phainon’s fingers probed at his entrance. “Gonna spread you open nice and slow, alright?”

His middle finger slid in, the movement easy from the slickness, and Mydei sighed in satisfaction. Phainon pumped that finger in, curled it, then worked it halfway out again, and kept repeating the motion, until Mydei’s noises quietened down. He worked in a second, then a third, and Mydei moaned at the fullness stretching him out.

“That’s it,” Phainon cooed, curling his fingers on every press inside to rub against that spot that made Mydei moan a little louder. “Sound so good for me, Mydei.”

“Fuck, Phainon,” Mydei groaned, his fingers finding Phainon’s hair again to hold on. “Put your— fuck, want your mouth back.”

“Yeah? Want me to suck you off while I fuck you on my fingers?”

“I just— hnngh, I just said that,” Mydei hissed.

Phainon chuckled, but it died in his throat when Mydei all but pushed him back down into his cunt. Surprised and delighted all at the same time, Phainon eagerly took Mydei’s cock back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen end as he pumped his fingers in and out.

Phainon knew his face was probably soaked, what with the amount of lube and Mydei’s natural slick, but he couldn’t care less. He hungrily lapped up every fluid in Mydei’s cunt, yearning for more. More of everything that Mydei had to give him.

Above him, Mydei sang his pleasure, whiny pleas and choked up moans echoing off Phainon’s four bedroom walls as he drew closer to his orgasm. “Phainon, Phainon, Phainon, please,” Mydei babbled, desperate hips rocking down onto Phainon’s fingers, onto his mouth, like he wanted more.

Phainon remembered having a dream like this, possibly the first one that he ever had, where he woke up moments before he got to see Mydei come on his tongue. Actually, in all dreams where Phainon sucked him off, he never got to feel it or see the wonder of Mydei coming undone in his mouth.

So, he didn’t talk. He let Mydei ramble and beg and arch his back, all while Phainon fucked him with reckless abandon, determined to feel the height of his pleasure in his mouth.

When it came, Mydei’s grip in Phainon’s hair tightened so hard that it hurt, and he immediately stopped rocking his hips as he squirted in short streams on Phainon’s face, coating him in the proof of his pleasure. Phainon moaned through it, licking up every drop, not changing the pace or deepness of his thrusting fingers until Mydei’s thighs shivered either side of him, and his hand dropped to the mattress.

Only then did Phainon lift his head from between Mydei’s legs, the entire lower half of his face wet and dripping. They locked eyes, and Phainon felt his pulse flutter beneath his skin.

“Titans, Mydei, you’re so fucking perfect.” Phainon moved over Mydei’s shivering body until he was level with his face again, cupped his jaw, and kissed him deeply, tongue sliding between his lips to share the taste of him.

Mydei arched into the kiss, moaning into Phainon’s mouth, as his hands reached up to cup Phainon’s cheeks. Phainon felt Mydei’s leg hook around Phainon’s and pull, like he couldn’t stand any more space between them.

“You’re unreal,” Phainon whispered hoarsely into the kiss, groaning when Mydei sucked on his tongue and traced his fingers up Phainon’s bare, muscled torso. “You taste so good. Better than I ever imagined.”

“Oh, you imagined that, did you?” Mydei teased, smiling against Phainon’s mouth. Their teeth clacked once, and it made Phainon’s heart thud with fondness.

“I imagined a lot of things, baby,” Phainon replied, pulling back from the kiss to settle back on his knees. “Including taking you apart on my cock. Would that be alright?”

Mydei’s entire body twitched at Phainon’s request, and it only made Phainon’s endearment grow. After a moment, Mydei nodded. “Yes. Yes, please,” he said softly.

Phainon smiled and got to work unbuttoning his own slacks, pulling them down and abandoning them off the side of the bed.

“I love how you look in lingerie, so fucking much,” Phainon murmured as he pressed his thigh against Mydei’s leaning over to hover beside him, fingers tracing over the curved edge of the bra, “but can I take it off? I want to see all of you.”

“You can see plenty of me,” Mydei countered, raising an eyebrow.

Phainon sighed. “I want more, Mydei.”

“Greedy.” Still, he lifted himself up onto his elbows and tilted his head in Phainon’s direction. “Take it off me, then.”

Well, he didn’t have to tell Phainon twice. Phainon reached around to Mydei’s back, where he undid the hooks with impressive dexterity, before helping Mydei slip his arms out.

The bra fell to the bed, and Phainon nearly moaned when he took in the sight of Mydei’s torso in all its glory. His muscles were so defined, the kind of muscles that only hours of exercise and highly intentional nutrition could build, and Phainon wanted to run his tongue over every little inch of them.

Mydei laid back down and helped Phainon pull his underwear off, and after, Phainon gazed down at him with what could only be described as pure reverence in his eyes. His breath had been completely stolen, away with Mydei and his perfect body.

Phainon released a ragged breath as his eyes tracked over every inch of Mydei’s body, reaching a hand out to just touch. Over his collarbones, down his chest, feathering over the different texture of his top surgery scars beneath his tattoos, down to the divot of his hips, pressing his thumbs in above his thighs.

“You’re doing it again,” Mydei commented, legs parting wider to make more space for Phainon between them.

“Doing what?”

“Staring. Like I’m some museum exhibit.”

“Well, is that so far from the truth?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Phainon laughed and leaned down to capture Mydei’s lips in another kiss, grinning into it as he tilted his chin up to reach deeper into his mouth.

He felt Mydei buck his hips beneath him, a silent ask for what came next, and he pulled back from the kiss, pressing one to the corner of Mydei’s mouth, before lifting himself up onto his hands.

“How do you want it, baby?” he asked, reaching for his cock to give himself slow, languid strokes.

Mydei’s eyes flicked down to Phainon’s cock, watching him pump himself, before reaching over for the abandoned lube bottle and wordlessly handing it to him. Phainon paused, but without further question, he nodded and squirted a good amount over his length, breath hitching at the initial coolness.

“Thank you,” Mydei murmured, tossing the bottle back across the bed. He lifted a hand to fiddle with a stray curl of Phainon’s hair at his ear, twisting it around his finger as he considered his question. “I like it deep. Start slow and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Phainon nodded, dipping down to kiss Mydei once, before returning his focus to lining himself up. “Deep and slow, then following your lead,” he echoed. He stroked his cock through the wetness between Mydei’s legs, collecting residual cum and lube on the tip, before catching it at Mydei’s hole.

“You alright?” Phainon asked softly when Mydei jolted slightly at the sensation.

“Fine,” Mydei whispered, tilting his head up. “Kiss me.”

Oh, that did something to Phainon’s heart. The simplicity of a breathless plea, of two quiet words, made Phainon feel tingly all over.

So he obliged, balancing on his forearm to kiss Mydei into the sheets, sharing moans between their lips. As they kissed, he felt Mydei’s hand wrap around Phainon’s cock and guide him forward until just the tip slipped inside.

“Go on,” Mydei breathed, volume hardly above a whisper.

Mydei clung to him, fingers in his hair, pulling Phainon into a long, intimate kiss as he pushed forward, burying himself inside Mydei’s tight, wet heat. The slide was easy, and it felt like pure ecstasy as Mydei’s warmth wrapped around him, pulling his cock in deeper, deeper, and with it, Phainon’s sanity.

When he bottomed out, Phainon broke the kiss just to rest his forehead against Mydei’s and breathe. Mydei, too, looked just as wrecked.

“Fuck—” Mydei choked out, glancing down at where Phainon disappeared inside him. “I’m— Titans, I’m so full, Phainon—”

“I know, I can feel you,” Phainon replied gently, kissing his trembling lips once. “You feel perfect. You okay?”

Mydei nodded briskly. “Yes, yes, just— less questioning, more fucking, Phainon,” he bit out in a quick rush of breath.

Déjà vu, Phainon thought, but he grinned, following orders and positioning himself to properly thrust into Mydei.

Just as Mydei instructed, he started out slow, pulling out and pushing back in lazy movements that allowed Mydei to feel the stretch, the fullness of having Phainon inside him. Phainon felt like he’d been given a slice of heaven, somehow devoted enough to have deserved a piece of holy scripture for himself, and every thrust he was permitted made his nerves buzz with need.

Mydei’s moans were pure music, and Phainon found himself joining in with him, ragged grunts and breathy whines spilling between them as Phainon kept his pace, filling Mydei with the deepness he asked for.

“Faster,” Mydei whispered at some point, and Phainon followed through, adjusting his position to get a better angle to drive into him at a more unforgiving pace. He ended up grabbing Mydei’s hand and hoisting it above his head, pinning it to the pillow with their fingers interlocked as he fucked into him.

“You’re taking me so well, Mydei, fuck,” Phainon rasped, looking all over Mydei’s face as he came undone beneath him. His eyes were hazy, glazed over from the pleasure, braid bouncing uselessly every time Phainon thrust inside.

Mydei keened under the onslaught of pleasure, his free hand drifting down over the sculpted lines of his muscles to reach for his cock, aching and throbbing between them. Without any real force, Phainon batted his hand away and instead, reached down to take his cock between his fingers.

“Don’t have to do any work, baby,” he muttered, guiding that hand back up to join the other one, until Phainon was pinning both above his head. “I’ve got you.”

“Oh, fuck,” Mydei whined, eyes fluttering shut as Phainon continued to fuck into him while stroking his cock at the same time.

It was beyond Phainon’s wildest dreams, quite literally. Hearing Mydei come undone beneath him, watching as his body welcomed Phainon in on every thrust, feeling the slickness between them on each slap of skin. A thousand of his dreams pre-real-Mydei could never measure up to one night with the man himself.

When Mydei’s moans turned into quick, shallow gasps, and his fingers scratched at Phainon’s hands where they interlocked, Phainon bent down to kiss at his neck, murmuring praises into his skin until Mydei clenched around him with a strangled shout. He dug his nails into Phainon’s hand, harsh crescents forming, and came with Phainon’s name on his tongue. Phainon kissed him through his comedown, and he dissolved into muffled whimpers and tiny jerks of his hips.

Phainon chased his pleasure even after Mydei laid back, loose-limbed, blissed out and exhausted, whispering curses and thanking Mydei for allowing him to keep going.

His orgasm built like a gradual fire up his spine, until pleasure overwhelmed him and he buried himself as deep as he could, spilling endlessly inside Mydei’s perfect heat, casually fucking it deeper in shallow movements until his nerves felt too raw to move anymore. He finally removed his hand from Mydei’s twitching cock, giving him the reprieve that his oversensitivity called for, in favour of tenderly running his fingers over Mydei’s bare skin instead.

Their movements slow, breaths evening out, until all that was left was soft sighs, sweaty skin, and lingering heat.

Phainon stayed deep inside Mydei for longer than he needed to, simply just to exist as close as possible. It was Mydei who spoke first, his voice wrecked from overuse. “So, what’s the verdict?”

Phainon lifted his head from where he’d been kissing Mydei’s shoulder, blinking at him in confusion. “On what?”

“What was better? Your dreams, or the real thing.”

Phainon groaned, a flush flooding his cheeks in embarrassment. “Please stop bringing up my dreams.”

“No, it’s funny,” Mydei insisted, smirking. “So? Answer, Phainon.”

“How is that even a question?” Phainon asked, moving to become eye-level with Mydei again. He cupped his cheek, brushing his thumb beneath his eye. “You, the real you, is obviously better.”

Mydei hummed in satisfaction, tilting his head into Phainon’s palm. “Good answer.”

A few more minutes of gentle affection passed, until Phainon pulled out of Mydei, hissing through a bitten lip as he lost the sensational warmth. Their skin was clammy, a mixture of sweat and cum and spit in places that they considered cleaning up, but were ultimately too tired to do so.

Instead, Phainon moved to flop down beside Mydei, who instantly rolled over to pillow his head on Phainon’s chest. The actions that followed seemed instinctive to Phainon: card his fingers through Mydei’s hair, press a kiss to the crown of his head, tuck him close against his body and make him feel safe.

Mydei was completely still, and Phainon thought he had fallen asleep, until he shifted slightly, and Phainon felt the tiniest brush of blinking lashes against his torso.

“Do you remember what I was talking about at the CALAMITY panel? When I was on stage?” Mydei asked. He was quieter now, and if Phainon was thinking with his more analytical brain, he would’ve assumed he sounded hesitant.

“Sort of,” Phainon replied sleepily. “Which part?”

“Why I wear lingerie.”

Phainon hummed, eyes flicking up to the ceiling recalled what Mydei was talking about. “About it improving your self-confidence?”

Mydei nodded. “I like how it feels to be able to wear something pretty and still feel… right, in my own skin. I used to hate the idea of wearing anything feminine, but now, it feels like I understand myself better because I let myself be feminine.”

Phainon let those words sink in, churning them around in his mind to fully understand what Mydei was saying and what it meant to him. It felt important that he was sharing these words with Phainon now.

“And you look very good doing it, too,” Phainon replied, cheeky, but completely sincere.

Mydei huffed a laugh and turned his head to bury his face in the side of Phainon’s torso. “I know. And I feel good. I never thought I’d like it this much, but I do.”

“That’s good.” Phainon gently angled Mydei’s face upwards to meet his gaze. “I’m happy for you. That’s a really nice thing to have.”

Mydei’s cheeks pinked faintly, before he looked away again. “I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate it. How you treated me tonight.”

“Hm?”

“Lingerie is a big thing to me, beyond just sexual gratification and feeling desirable. It is those things too, but there’s more to it,” Mydei confessed, and oh, how Phainon’s heart immediately ached. “I wear it to reclaim a part of my gender expression I thought I lost. And it felt good to have someone appreciate both how I look in it and what it means to me.” He paused, swallowed, then finished with a strained: “So. Thank you.”

Phainon wanted to kiss every flicker of hesitation straight out of Mydei’s mind. He could tell this wasn’t something easy to say, and he wished he could breathe reassurances straight into Mydei’s skin so he didn’t feel so on-edge talking about it. But, for now, he settled for rolling them over, bracketing Mydei between his forearms, and kissing the tip of his nose.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, Mydei. I’m so fucking attracted to you, it makes me look stupid, but hearing you and Castorice and Cipher talk today… I think it altered how I was thinking about you.”

“Ah, so now you’ll have character-accurate dreams about me,” Mydei surmised, smirking up at Phainon with a glint in his eyes.

“Mydei!” Phainon squawked, eyebrows raising in mock-offense.

Mydei’s laughter washed over Phainon like a soothing balm, and he liked hearing it so much. They flitted between serious, heartfelt confessions and easy banter like they’d done it for years instead of half a day. And maybe that was insane, deluded to a ridiculous degree, but Phainon’s delusions so far had turned out alright, hadn't they?

“Still, if I am going to have more dreams about you…” Phainon started, settling back down into the mattress to press against Mydei’s side. “Shouldn’t I, um, have your number? So you can check I’m getting it character-accurate.”

“Oh, is that what this is? You want my number for constructive criticism of your dreams?” Mydei questioned, lips tugging up at the corners.

“Yes?”

Rolling his eyes, Mydei turned over onto his side, settling deeper into the pillows. Phainon immediately curled around him, an arm wrapping over his waist, the other tucking under the pillow beneath his head. He pressed a quick kiss to the back of his neck, and then lingered close, solely for his warmth.

“Well?” Phainon pressed, smiling against his skin.

One of Mydei’s hands found Phainon’s, the one draped over his waist, and he locked their fingers together. He shook his head. “In the morning,” he decided, sounding sated and sleepy, and, alright, Phainon could work with that. At least the morning with Mydei was guaranteed now.

That night, Phainon didn't dream, which a month ago would've disappointed him greatly when he woke up surrounded by the fruitless results of his own conditioning.

But the next morning, when Phainon woke, he woke to a warm back pressed to his chest, the scent of pomegranate filling his nose, and his arms wrapped firmly around the man he once dreamed would occupy the other half of his bed.

No alarm begged his attention that morning. Instead, Mydei rolled over and drowsily kissed Phainon in his sleep, and the world didn’t require much from him at all until he climbed out of bed, much later, to make breakfast for two.