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It’s some time between too late and definitely too late that Miles Edgeworth finds himself in a sticky sort of predicament.
He can’t stop touching himself.
It’s inconvenient, at best. What had started as a small urging as he laid in bed soon grew into an overwhelming desire, and he’d been left with no choice.
It’s just the fact that it feels so good. As if his body had been waiting for this outlet all day, though he hadn’t had the inkling when he crawled into bed. He was sure of it. In fact, he’d been bone tired and wished only for sleep to come quickly. Hence, the inopportune impulse.
While he had been preoccupied with grappling his change of heart, his hand had been drawn ever downward.
There had been an attempt, towards the beginning, to keep the activity a private affair, so as not to disturb his bedmate. He’d turned on his side, towards the edge of the bed, in a respectable manner.
Propriety had soon been lost in the heat of the moment, his hips and hand rocking together. His thoughts fogged in the chase for more pleasure.
It is during this that he feels a weight, a comforting warmth. Phoenix, pressed against his back. He leans his head around Miles’ shoulder, like he can see what’s happening just under the covers.
“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” His tone is light, playful even. “Was it too much?”
Miles can’t find it in himself to answer; all of his energy concentrated on the motion between his thighs.
“Oh, that’s cute.” Phoenix continues. “Putting on a little show for me? You couldn’t resist?”
Phoenix doesn’t replace Miles’ hand in the heat, barely even touches him besides the pressure against his back. And yet Miles cannot stand it, it’s so intoxicating. His head leans back, his eyes screw shut as he whines and his finger picks up speed.
“I like you like this, I think.” A click of his tongue. “Needy.”
Phoenix’s voice is a conduit to pleasure as Miles’ breathing quickens.
“I thought you needed to be up early tomorrow. Who would really put off sleeping just to touch themselves? That’s so… unprofessional .”
He’s teasing, Miles realizes. And doesn’t that feel so good? Phoenix has him cornered, and Miles has no defense, no argument to mount that he could handle.
A whimper escapes his lips just on the cusp of his consciousness.
“ That’s what I want to hear. Moan for me.” Phoenix says, as he coaxes more noise from Miles’ throat.
He’s a marionette, a piano to be played by Phoenix’s skillful hands.
“You- You did this.” Miles says, as the pieces sluggishly click into place. He’s too tired, and frankly, horny, to be embarrassed by his limited mental capacity.
“Guilty.” Miles can hear the grin in that single word.
“Why?”
“Because I can. Besides,” Phoenix takes the opportunity to run a hand down Miles’ arm until it rests above his own. “I don’t hear you complaining.”
“Ngk.” He’s helpless like this, and they both know it.
“Do you want to stop, Baby? Yes or no. Simple word.”
Phoenix calls his bluff, just like he always does.
“... No.”
He feels the breath against his neck, a huff of laughter. “You never do. You’re such a slut for it.”
Miles lets the vulgarity spark against his core, give him the drive to careen towards a peak.
Phoenix aligns his fingers with Miles’, pressing down to provide more vital friction.
“Are you ready?” It’s a vague question, but one Miles has never been more certain about. He nods frantically, desire flowing from their entwined hands.
“Will you ask for it? Beg me to come?”
A litany of pleas rain from his mouth in a torrent. A symphony of please and I need it that only Phoenix could possibly elicit.
“Come for me.”
And Miles does, a pleasurable wave that leaves him in one last breathless moan. His hand finally falls limp, free from its quest.
Phoenix scoops him up in his arms, pulling him to his chest. He nuzzles against Miles’ neck, breathing him in.
Miles hums, utterly content for the moment.
But of course, with Phoenix, the serenity can never last long.
“So you admit it works?” The vibration tickles against his skin.
Miles is pulled out of his comfortable doze. “What?”
“I made you touch yourself. Had you come on command.”
Miles opens his eyes and groans. “Darling, that whole trance state is hogwash.”
“Did you not just admit it? You said I was the one doing this to you.”
“I… perhaps will say I was caught up in the moment. The idea of it is certainly…” He clears his throat, shifts in Phoenix’s hold. “But, I will have to say that I’ve been stressed recently, as you know. And the body will find ways to blow off steam, as it were….”
“Oh, really?” Phoenix asks, amused. His arms tighten around him for just a moment, a quick squeeze. “ Were it so ?”
Miles confusingly finds himself almost unsure. If he was going to admit anything to himself, he would try to deconstruct why he feels caught off guard; the way Phoenix talks as though his response was expected. Anticipated, even. But, never one too shy away from a fight he could win, Miles digs in his heels.
“Of course. It’s the logical explanation.” He says, feeling only slightly uncertain in his deduction.
“And that’s your final answer.” It isn’t a question, but Miles confirms anyway.
“Alright, if you say so.” Phoenix raises his hand, lets it rest in the air in front of Miles’ eyes. Poises his thumb and middle fingers together. Miles feels his eyes cross to focus on them. “Then nothing should happen when I-”
It’s some time between too late and definitely too late that Miles Edgeworth finds himself in a sticky sort of predicament.
He can’t stop touching himself.