Chapter Text
February 14, 2017, 2:15 AM
Gatewater Hotel
Room 311
As much as Phoenix Wright admired Miles Edgeworth’s work ethic, it was also an enormous pain in the ass sometimes. Once he had his hooks in a case, there was no stopping him. There was no stone unturned, no avenue unchecked, no suspicious nook or cranny missed. In the noble pursuit of the truth, there was no detail too small. Under most circumstances, Phoenix greatly respected his tenacity. This late at night, however, after a long day of detective work, he just wanted to go home.
“You don’t have to stay here for my sake,” Edgeworth said. He knelt in front of the side table drawer, meticulously examining its contents with gloved hands. They’d been at the Gatewater Hotel for several hours now, poring over every last detail. Or, at the very least, Edgeworth was.
Phoenix, who had long since stopped making any useful contributions to the case, sat at the edge of the hotel room’s bed. He would refer to his continued presence as moral support, but even that seemed generous at this point. He yawned loudly and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone in a hotel full of dead bodies,” he said, pointedly trying to ignore the fresh corpse slumped at the desk a few feet away from them.
Edgeworth covered his mouth, trying to hide his own yawn. “They’re not a threat, Wright. They’re dead.”
“We’ve already searched the other two rooms from top to bottom. Why can’t this one wait until the morning?”
Edgeworth flipped through the pamphlets, sprinkling aluminum dust on each page to check for any telltale fingerprints. “The hotel staff only agreed to evacuate the hotel for one night, remember?” He pursed his lips together and blew a small puff of air. The powder scattered, leaving behind no traces. “Once they reopen, I don’t want any of the evidence getting muddled.”
“The detectives were here all day,” Phoenix added. “Do you really think you’re going to find anything new?”
Edgeworth shrugged and applied fingerprint powder to the next pamphlet. “Given their track record for missing vital evidence in the past few months, I wouldn’t be surprised if they missed something.”
“What’s there to miss?” Phoenix asked. “It seems pretty cut and dry to me. All three victims ordered the pufferfish sashimi at lunch, and were found dead in their rooms six hours later. It sounds like a classic case of accidental fugu poisoning.”
Edgeworth nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what it sounds like. There’s one small issue, however. According to the hotel manager, today was John Balaya’s first day as executive chef at the Gatewater Hotel, which casts suspicion on him. Additionally, there was no mention of pufferfish on today’s menu, which likely leads to one of two conclusions: either the chef deliberately plotted the murder of three guests, or he’s being framed for their deaths.”
Phoenix sighed. “Fair enough,” he said. “That does sound pretty suspicious. I can’t know for sure until I interview him tomorrow at the detention center, though… Hey, quit changing the subject! It’s not safe to be out this late and you know it, Edgeworth.”
“It’s not that late,” Edgeworth said, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s only… a quarter past two... Okay, fine, I concede that it is late. We’ll go home once I’m finished print dusting. Will that suffice?”
“Works for me,” Phoenix said. As fond as he was of Edgeworth and his penchant for detail, he was relieved to finally have an end to this investigation in sight. The bed creaked underneath him as he stood up. “I’m going to hit the can real quick. Meet me in the lobby when you’re done?”
Edgeworth wrinkled his nose. “Crass,” he said. “Fine, I’ll meet you downstairs.” After the paper in his hands was examined to his liking, he placed it in the pile with the other ones he’d tested. There was still a small stack of items in the side table drawer to examine, but at least he had made some sort of cutoff, and that was good enough for Phoenix.
Phoenix stepped out into the hall. He squinted: maybe it was just the lack of sleep, but something seemed… off. The corridors somehow appeared longer than when he’d first came in, stretching out far to his left and right. To add to that, he couldn’t recall which way the elevator was. He’d been here all evening, but found himself struggling to construct a mental map of the building. Without thinking about it too much, he chose a direction and started to walk. He would have to find it eventually.
As he walked, he picked up the scent of something delicate, floral. It was nice, but he couldn’t remember encountering any flowers the first time he came through here. He paused for a moment. He’d been here long enough that it was technically Valentine’s Day now. Maybe they were a gift for someone? He shook his head, his thoughts slightly hazy. No, that wasn’t right. The hotel had been evacuated and sealed off from everyone except law enforcement: there was no one here to give or receive flowers. Where did that lovely scent come from, then?
Phoenix turned the corner and found the answer. As he stepped into an unfamiliar hallway, he discovered that the walls were lined with rows of beautiful purple roses. They stretched up towards the ceiling, enticing him with their sweet aroma. These were nothing like the leafy potted plants in the other hallways, he thought, leaning in to get a closer look at them. Some of them sprouted into a beautiful full bloom as others began to wither, letting their glowing soft petals fall and scatter on the carpet. He drew in close to one of the large blooms and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he took in its pleasant scent. He felt a dull ache in the pit of his chest, a strange desire for something familiar. He couldn’t quite place it.
He opened his eyes again, feeling even more lost than he did before. A door had appeared at the end of the hall, one that he was sure he hadn’t before. He let his footsteps carry him to it, as if his body understood something that his mind couldn’t. The scent from the flowers was stronger here, more cloying, disorienting. He grasped the doorknob with his hand and pulled it open, letting the floral haze envelop him as he stepped inside.
This room didn’t look anything like the other suites, Phoenix noticed. Though the lights were turned off, the furniture took on a surreal pink glow, one that couldn’t be explained by the city lights that filtered in through the windows. The ceilings were taller, the furniture more sleek and modern, with clean lines unlike the traditional furniture in the other rooms. The bedspread and pillows were a sterile white, plush against a striking black frame. As far as he knew, the Gatewater never had any luxury penthouse suites, but this one sure looked like one.
A lone figure sat perched on top of the bed. Phoenix stared at them, trying to identify their form, but he struggled. They appeared vaguely humanoid, but that was as far as any stable descriptor would go. Their appearance shifted and changed constantly, like a phantom in the memory of a fading dream. If his eyes lingered on any one part of them for too long, it would gradually deconstruct and reconstruct into something new, making their appearance impossible to commit to memory. They belonged to the moment, and to the moment alone. He found it beautiful and poignant and deeply frustrating all at once. The ache beneath Phoenix’s ribs grew stronger, amplified by the heady perfume and mysterious stranger’s gaze. Like the flowers around him, it had begun to blossom, swelling into a deep yearning inside him. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said, trying to regain his focus. “This hotel is a crime scene. It’s not safe here. Please leave.”
The figure on the bed ignored his words. “Do you like my flowers, Mr. Wright?” they asked, a stem pinched between their long, spindly fingers. Their voice floated through the air like wisps of smoke, shifting and ethereal like their body. Their eyes, a soft purple like the roses that sprawled their way around them, lingered on Phoenix.
He felt a subtle prying sensation in the corners of his mind, as if someone were turning the pages and skimming over its contents. “They’re very nice,” Phoenix mumbled, looking down at the floor, but merely breaking eye contact wasn’t enough to stop the intrusive feeling. “I don’t know who you are, but you shouldn’t be here. You should go home.”
“You want me to go home?” they asked, standing up from the bed. Their shape began to solidify into the form of a dainty young woman, one with delicate pale skin that glowed in the moonlight. Her hair, the striking color of fresh blood, crowned her head in elegant braids and fell softly upon her shoulders. She wrapped herself in a gauzy white gown, one that flowed down to her ankles and fluttered about her frame like a ghost. She twirled her parasol, and her tiny lips curled upward into an impish smile. She still had the same hazy purple eyes as before, but otherwise, the spitting image of Dahlia Hawthorne stood in front of him. “If it’s so dangerous here, I shouldn’t be alone. You’ll go home with me, right, Feenie?”
Phoenix stumbled back, his heart dropping. He swallowed hard. “What? No, you can’t, you can’t be her. You’re… you’re supposed to be…”
Dahlia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t like this?” she said, her voice dripping with honey and venom. It matched perfectly with the one Phoenix held in his memory, ringing crystal clear even though he hadn’t heard it in so long. She stepped closer to him, examining him like a particularly interesting bug. “How fascinating. On first glance, I thought I’d tapped into your heart’s desire, but your reaction tells me something else.”
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Dollie,” Phoenix said, the taste of her long unspoken pet name both foreign and familiar on his lips. Though a tiny ember of fondness flickered in his heart as he spoke it, too many regrets circled it, smothering it down before it could spark. He backed away. “I know you’re not her. I don’t want you to be her. Please stop this.”
“Very well,” Dahlia said, continuing to approach him. Her form began to unravel, shifting back into the ambiguous figure that he had seen before. “Let me try again,” they said, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Phoenix flinched and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the prying sensation inside his head once again. This time it felt more intense, more intimate, like tendrils reaching down into the dark recesses of his psyche. He shuddered, feeling naked as they slithered around inside his mind and studied his most private thoughts and desires. Though his body screamed at him to run, a small part of him felt exhilarated at the exposure. It was thrilling, knowing that a complete stranger could peer inside him and gain unfettered access to his true self. There was no need for secrets, no need for explanation. It terrified him. It enticed him.
The weight of the hand on his shoulder grew heavier, warmer. “Is this better?” a familiar male voice asked him.
Phoenix froze, his eyes snapping wide open. “Edgeworth?” he whispered.
Indeed, Miles Edgeworth stood in front of him, tracing his hand from Phoenix’s shoulder up to his neck. He stroked his jaw lightly with his thumb. “You sound surprised,” he said, amusement lighting up his features. “I suppose that’s only natural, considering how far you buried this particular desire.”
“I don’t understand,” Phoenix said, pushing Edgeworth’s hand away. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?” He balled his hands into fists, holding them at his sides. “Who are you, anyway?”
Edgeworth, unbothered, held out a purple rose as an offering. “I am a manifestation of unspoken desire. I am an apparition who carries out the will of any longing soul that summons me. I exist outside of the confines of reality, bending it into any shape that helps these souls realize their most intimate fantasies. I am here to bring them to fruition.” A coy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You may call me Lust.”
“This must be some kind of mistake,” Phoenix said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I summoned you, at least not on purpose.”
“It’s rare that anyone summons me intentionally,” Lust said with a shrug. “In fact, I’d say I tend to be drawn most to those who are hiding their desires deep within. Someone like you, Mr. Wright.”
“Like me?” Phoenix said, frowning.
Lust nodded. “You see, desire is like carbon, in a way. You can find it in every living being. On its own, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Humans live it, breathe it, build homes out of it. In most circumstances, it’s so common and so normal that it goes by unnoticed. Most desire doesn’t interest me, and on its own it is rarely enough to capture my attention. That being said, there is something particularly alluring about the desire in your heart, Mr. Wright. Do you know what that is?”
Phoenix shook his head, but it was not lost on him that they had decided to transform into Edgeworth for this conversation. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Though he admired him as a prosecutor, a leader, and a close friend, he knew that the feelings he locked in his heart extended far beyond what was appropriate for those relationships. This was something he had to deal with alone.
“It’s pressure, Mr. Wright. With enough time and energy, an intense pressure has the capability of turning carbon from charcoal into diamonds. In the same way, it can take an ordinary desire and shape it into something new. The more you push it down and try to squander it away, the more it glitters and shines. I see a desire that has burned long in your heart, one that you’ve tried to repress and crush down for years. Though it was your intention to destroy it, you’ve accidentally made it into something beautiful and resilient.”
Phoenix dropped his shoulders and looked down. After peeking into his soul like that, it had to be pretty obvious to Lust what was going on. “And that’s why you’re here, then?” he said, smiling sadly. “Yeah, you got me. I guess I’ve got a bit of a crush, huh?”
“I’ll say,” Lust said, their eyebrow quirking in a perfect replica of Edgeworth’s understated amusement. “I haven’t seen a desire this repressed in a long time. He must mean a lot to you.”
“Yeah, he does,” he said. He thought of the real Edgeworth, the one who was likely still down the hall examining evidence in the dead of night. Edgeworth, who dared to defend him from his classmates’ accusations all those years ago. Edgeworth, who built an inspiring career out of the ashes of his father’s untimely death, who strived for perfection and always found it. Edgeworth, who later threw that perfection away, refusing to let his pride stand in the way of the truth. Edgeworth, who vowed to seek justice for the past even at the cost of his own freedom, who put his life in Phoenix’s hands when it was his turn at the defendant’s chair. After everything they had been through together, it was impossible not to feel something.
“You’re in love with him,” Lust said simply.
Phoenix nodded.
“And yet you don’t want to be.”
Phoenix hesitated, but nodded again. “He’s already told me once that I’ve saddled him with unnecessary feelings.” He gave a wry smile at that. Edgeworth did always have a flair for overly dramatic statements, but there was a hint of truth in that one. “I’ve only been a registered defense attorney for about half a year, but in that time I’ve already managed to give him a crisis of morality, convict his long-term mentor in his father’s murder, and shake up his entire perception of both himself and the legal system. I’ve done enough emotional damage to him as it is. I’m not going to make things worse by piling my own selfish feelings for him on top of that.”
Lust placed their hand on their hip, giving Phoenix a pensive look. “I see,” they said, stepping closer to him. “In that case, Mr. Wright, I’d like to offer you a proposal.”
Phoenix blinked. “A proposal?” he said.
“Yes. As you can see, I’ve been gifted with the ability to render my body into anything I wish. And as you can imagine, there are numerous advantages to this ability. For example, I can easily shape myself into someone you find appealing.” They bit down on their lower lip and raked a hand through their soft silver hair.
“That’s quite obvious, yes,” Phoenix replied, a tinge of pink on the tips of his ears.
“I would be willing to let you explore that desire with my body, if you like,” they said, clasping Phoenix’s hand in their own. “It is of no consequence to me.”
“Excuse me?” Phoenix said. His mouth went dry.
“I wouldn’t do it for free, of course,” Lust continued, stroking the back of his hand with their thumb. “I know that your desire burns strong for him, but you’re not the only one who would benefit from acting upon it. I want you to share some of that desire with me, Mr. Wright. I want to take it for myself.”
A shiver worked its way through Phoenix’s body. “I-I just want to be perfectly clear,” he said, a flush beginning to bloom over his cheeks. He gave a nervous smile and scratched the back of his neck. “You’re, um, propositioning me for sex, right?”
They smirked. “Yes.”
He shifted his weight from one side to the other, and his smile quickly faded. “And in exchange, you, um… you’ll act like him, right?”
“Pretending is so much fun, isn’t it?” Lust replied, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “I think it would benefit both of us. I get to harvest some of that exquisite desire you’re carrying, and you get to take what you want from me without having to burden the real Edgeworth with it. We can both get what we want and leave this room satisfied. It’s a win-win, wouldn’t you say?”
Phoenix paused. Something about this felt wrong, but there weren’t exactly any contradictions in their logic. In fact, he concluded, it would be foolish not to accept their offer, right? He could finally release some of the unresolved tension he’d been locking away for so long, and Edgeworth wouldn’t have to carry the weight of his greed. He’d get laid, Lust would get laid, and then everyone could carry on their merry way. No one would have to get hurt. He swallowed. “Okay,” he said. “I accept. Let’s do this.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Lust said. They curled their fingers around his tie, gave it a playful tug, and slipped the tail of it out from beneath his suit jacket. Next, they strode over to the bed, pulling Phoenix behind them like an obedient dog, and shoved him unceremoniously onto his back. After taking in the sight of him, dazed and slightly roughed up, they pinned him down to the bed and straddled his hips. “Tell me, Mr. Wright,” they said, mimicking Edgeworth’s voice in a breathy manner that Phoenix never thought he’d actually hear in person. “How can I make this good for you?” They slipped the tie off him entirely, leaving his collar askew, and tossed it aside.
Phoenix let out a nervous, breathless laugh. “Please,” he said, reaching out to caress their chin gently in his hand. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Wright. I’d like to think our situation merits a first-name basis, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, is that so?” Lust mused, leaning in close to the touch. “I’ll keep that in mind, Phoenix.”
To his own surprise, Phoenix flinched, his heart leaping into his throat. He realized, with a pang of sorrow shooting through his chest, that the real Edgeworth had never called him by his first name, not since they were children. Even in his darkest hour at the detention center, when Phoenix had seen him at his most vulnerable, he had still maintained a veneer of formality that kept him at a distance. It seemed that no matter how close they became, he felt obligated to keep him at arm’s length.
“Is something wrong?”
Phoenix closed his eyes. It hurt a little, but if he was going to feign intimacy with Edgeworth in secret, he might as well add that extra bit of authenticity. “I know this sounds strange, but… could you call me by my name again?” he asked.
Lust chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve gotten stranger requests than that.” They tipped forward, planting a kiss on the exposed skin of Phoenix’s throat. “Tell me more about your fantasies, Phoenix ,” they said, their voice a low rumble tickling across his ear. To accentuate the point, they rolled their hips down, giving him a gentle, teasing grind. “I want to know just how to unravel you.”
Phoenix groaned loudly at the contact, grinding his hips back into Lust. “Don’t you already-- nngh!”
Lust bit down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, causing him to hiss loudly and arch his back. “Sorry, darling, what was that?” they asked, the look on their face absolutely predatory.
He shot them a glare, or at least he tried to from beneath the heavy flush on his cheeks. He touched the spot gingerly, wincing. “You already know what I want!” he protested, but his irritation faded quickly into a plea. “You can read me like a goddamn book, so please… just…”
“Just what?” Lust asked, punctuating the question with another roll of their hips. “Oh, come now, Phoenix. You can’t just expect me to do all the work. I’ve already teased enough secrets out of your heart. Surely you can give some to me willingly?”
Phoenix took a deep breath, releasing it slowly in a shuddering exhale. His nerves were already frayed from the anticipation and guilt, but he’d already come this far. A bead of sweat trickled from the back of his neck, gliding over the fresh bruise before it slipped below his collar. “It’s embarrassing,” he said. He licked his lips. “But I… I want you to use me. Please.”
Lust hummed thoughtfully, the dulcet baritone of Edgeworth’s voice reverberating in his chest. “Not what I expected, but that can be arranged,” they said, prying open the buttons on Phoenix’s jacket. They followed with his shirt, plucking them apart with ease. “Elaborate.”
“W-well,” Phoenix stammered, the flush extending from his face to his shoulders as he shuffled the jacket and shirt off. It wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t want to be used, not really. Under normal circumstances, he would have preferred to take it slowly, let his relationship with Edgeworth blossom naturally from a sturdy foundation of mutual affection. But this wasn’t normal, and this wasn’t Edgeworth. This was one night with his carbon copy, one where he could steal every last inch of intimacy he desperately longed for without anyone else knowing. It was a rare opportunity that he was more than willing to take, but it would also make him a guilty man. And if he was truly as dedicated to justice as he claimed to be, it meant he needed to be punished. He would gladly take it, especially when his punishment was dealt from someone who looked like him.
“Phoenix, darling, you’re being awfully quiet,” Lust crooned, working their way down to his belt. They made quick work of unbuckling it, then moved to his pants, tugging them downward. The fabric clung to the noticeable bulge beneath before it slipped down.
“I want you to use me,” Phoenix repeated, allowing Lust to finish stripping him down until he was down to his boxers. He couldn’t bring himself to look them in the eye, but his voice held a surprising amount of conviction. He didn’t deserve the soft, tender love he craved, and he wasn’t going to take some cheap imitation of it. It was better this way, even if it wasn’t his true heart’s desire. This was something he could live with. “Stop calling me by my name. Tie me up. Blindfold me. Have your way with me. Do whatever you want.”
Lust got up from the bed. “Are you sure, love? This request doesn’t match up to anything else you’ve wanted tonight. Just a moment ago, you were waxing so romantic and sentimental...” They dragged a fingernail across his wildly beating heart, trailing it down against the soft skin of his stomach.
“I’m sure,” Phoenix said, bracing himself. “Do it.”
“Very well.” Lust snapped their fingers, and a set of chains materialized out of thin air. They wrapped themselves around the bedpost, winding their way up to each of Phoenix’s limbs and cuffing them in place.
Phoenix gulped. “Oh, wow,” he said, looking down at one of the shackles around his wrist and back up at Lust. “So, that’s a thing you can do, huh?” Experimentally, he lifted his arm up from the mattress, and he felt the resistance of the cold metal weighing him back down. He managed to move maybe a foot or two away from the mattress before it pulled taut, refusing to let him go any further. A thrill rushed through him: just as he had wanted, he had become a prisoner, laid bare before his captor and ready for his penance.
Lust reached down and swept Phoenix’s discarded necktie off the floor, smoothing it between their fingers as they circled the bed. “Be a good boy for me and sit still, won’t you?”
He did as he was told, allowing them to wrap the thick cloth around the crown of his head. He felt their fingertips card softly through his hair as they pulled the fabric snug, slipped it over his eyes, and tied it in place. He lied perfectly still, drinking in the sensation of having his movement restricted and sight deprived, when he felt a pair of lips meet with his own.
They were more plush than he had imagined. With how often he’d seen those lips pulled tight into a frown, he’d figured they would be rougher. He wished he could smooth out those hard lines, relieve him of the weight that kept them fixed in place. He let Edgeworth -- no, Lust, he had to remind himself -- deepen their kiss, parting his own lips open to let them in and take the desire they wanted so badly.
Lust pulled back. “Just to clarify: you did say I could do whatever I wanted to you, right?”
Something about this question registered as very wrong in Phoenix’s head, but if he were being completely honest, most of the oxygen in his blood wasn’t being carried there at the moment. He swallowed and nodded vigorously, hoping that he wouldn’t regret it.
“Oh, good,” they said. “In that case, I have a surprise for you.” They climbed back onto Phoenix and kissed him again, this time with more passion and fervor, as they scratched their fingernails up and down his bare chest.
At the other end of the room, the door clicked open.
Phoenix immediately regretted it.