Work Text:
Would Stelle say that she cares about antiques and their provenances? The short answer is no, and the long answer would be nooooooo. The longest and most truthful answer would surely hurt Phainon's feelings, so she keeps that one extra close to the chest.
Fortunately, Phainon has never actually asked her for her opinion on ancient trinkets and the like, choosing instead to simply show up at hers and Dan Heng's suite each week with arms full of junk — ahem, artefacts — to tell them about in that charming but kinda domineering way that Phainon uniquely possesses. Evidently he enjoys spending time with them like this, or perhaps it's an aspect of Amphorean hospitality that's just a little over Stelle's head; either way, she's not about to shoo him off when he appears at their door.
She can always count on Dan Heng to be suitably invested, or at least Stelle thinks he is; while his face gives nothing away as usual, the archivist always has a comment or follow-up question to prove that he's been paying attention. What a guy. Stelle merely sits back on the chaise-longue and watches Phainon's face light up at the engagement each time, imagining a fluffy white tail wagging behind him.
So went their routine for a while. Unstoppable puppy energy would meet immovable polite disinterest week after week, and all involved parties would walk away satisfied and ready to do it all again next time. It's comfy, and Stelle loves comfy. Sometimes she would find her eyelids drooping, Phainon's deep timbre and steady manner of speech lulling her to sleep even with the Okheman sunshine pouring into the room.
No such cosy scene today, however. Right now, Stelle is upright in her seat and laser-focused on the egg-shaped item in Phainon's hands.
"I always knew you had a discerning eye, partner," Phainon smiles at her proudly, oblivious to Stelle's dawning realisation that Phainon has No Idea what he's holding right now. "You might have thought, as I did at first, that decorative ceramic eggs aren't worth a second glance, so common that there isn't much to comment on. But you'll then notice that this one is different."
As Stelle had feared he would, Phainon squeezes the egg between his fingers and its form distorts, pliable yet springy under pressure. She looks at Dan Heng out of the corner of her eye, psychically beaming her question towards him; this is what she thinks it is, right? For just a moment, Dan Heng's gaze flickers to meet hers. He doesn't nod, nor does his expression change, but to Stelle the message is loud and clear. Ah fuck.
Phainon continues his examination unperturbed. "Fascinating, isn't it? I have so many questions about the composition—" Silicone, Stelle's mind supplies as she bites her tongue, "And not least the function. I can't imagine it would be made this way if it was purely decorative; perhaps it's intended to pacify fidgety hands? Look here, if you turn it this way—"
"Wait," Stelle is unable to stop herself from calling out. She doesn't need to see the other side to know that there is a hole in the bottom, and she does not need to see Phainon's curious fingers go poking around inside of it. "I know what this is, actually."
"Oh, really?" Rather than be disappointed that his discovery is not unique, Phainon doesn't look deterred in the slightest, the spirit of curiosity shining in his virulent blue eyes. "Could it be that you have something like this beyond the sky?"
Stelle is weak to puppy eyes, as she imagines most people are. Oh how she would rather bury her face in her hands right now, turn tail and dash from the room, plunge her head into the water basin; all this she would rather do than see this pup lose its innocence.
Dan Heng shifts as if he is about to speak, but Stelle extends her hand towards him, bidding him step down. The responsibility of this must fall to her, she who has sat back on her laurels through every show-and-tell session they've shared over the past months. She is loathe to do it, but she must. Gravely, she lifts her gaze to the bright pools of blue in front of her.
"Phainon, that is a sex toy."
Phew, what a busy week! Phainon hasn't had so much on his plate since, well, last week probably.
As well as staying on top of his training regime, Phainon had attended some terse meetings with the Council alongside Aglaea, drafted up further appeals for aid for refugees to Okhema, engaged in some truly lengthy discussions on the next steps of the Flame-Chase with his fellow Heirs, and he'd only just returned from a two day expedition with Mydei to map a safe route for the incoming supply convoy from the Grove. Phainon never begrudges an opportunity to mow through the titankin, but his shoulders are really feeling it now. Between all of those things, he's barely had time to think about any horribly embarrassing encounters with their friends from beyond the sky.
He heaves a sigh as he sets his bag down in the living room, pointedly ignoring a certain suspicious object that he left out on the coffee table like a fool before he'd departed a few days ago.
He's barely… had time to think about it…
Shaking his head, Phainon picks up the damned thing, squeezing it gently between his fingers. What did Stelle call it again? An onahole? The word alone sounds so dirty, though not quite as bad as the other alternative she'd shared — fleshlight. Phainon feels his ears growing warm just recalling the vulgar words.
He absently turns it around to look at the opening in the bottom, wondering at himself that he'd never considered such a vulgar use for it; and Mydeimos always accuses him of having a dirty mind! Even if it's actually true, Phainon doesn't think he holds a candle to Miss Stelle in that regard.
While the trailblazer had affected an air of reluctance to share the ugly truth with Phainon, she'd still gone into much more detail than was necessary in explaining the toy's function, her face lit up ghoulishly as if she was feeding on his discomfort. Phainon half suspects that he would have gotten a live demonstration if not for the flat 'no' from Dan Heng when Stelle had reached out to pick up the onahole herself.
Still, it's such a strange thing. Phainon has never struggled to get what he's needed out of his own trusty right hand, and he just can't imagine going to such lengths to procure an item like this. Curiosity wins out as he slips two fingers into the opening — he'll wonder about it forever if he doesn't try it out before sheepishly letting it back onto the market.
Oh, that's not the kind of sensation he was expecting. The exterior is so clearly manmade in its texture, pliable but unnaturally smooth to the touch, and so Phainon had assumed the inside would be much the same. What he's met with instead is distinctly warm and flesh-like beneath his fingertips — true to the name, he supposes, but how in the world would someone craft a thing like this?
Come to think of it, the person who sold it to him had been saying something about the item having magical properties; Phainon had written it off as a fanciful, over the top sales tactic (hardly an uncommon thing in the markets of Okhema), but perhaps there was some truth to it after all. As he curls his fingers to feel around the uncannily realistic surface, he finds his trousers growing tight. How embarrassing to be getting worked up by a toy like this, and yet Phainon doesn't feel any need to stall his movements.
It's not uncommon for him to feel a bit pent up after an expedition anyhow. One can't afford to be distracted by trifles of the body on an active battlefield, it's an easy and foolish way to get killed. Things like hunger and exhaustion are pushed into the recesses of the mind out of necessity, and naturally arousal takes a backseat too. But Phainon is just a man at the end of the day, and when the mantle of the Deliverer is put to bed and his sword is sheathed once more, his body always makes its needs known as soon as there's a peaceful moment to spare.
Plus, well, this had been a mission with Mydei in particular.
The Prince of Castrum Kremnos is a joy to watch in battle. In those moments where Phainon would cleave through the last of the titankin surrounding him and his eyes would sweep across the battlefield to confirm his companion's wellbeing, the sight would be burned into his memory every time.
Mydei, battered and bruised and teeth grit in determination as he'd hurl himself into throngs of enemies, sweat drawing attention to every sculpted plane of his exposed torso, the harshness of his breathing pushing his ample chest up and down, up and down. Phainon is fortunate that his reflexes are quick enough that Mydei doesn't need to know quite how many near misses he's nearly caused simply by existing.
If ordinary missions leave Phainon powerless to the needs of his body, the ones he has to share with Mydei are a hundredfold worse. How grateful he is that Mydei had offered to deliver their debrief report to Aglaea alone; Phainon hadn't realised just how much he needed a release.
Mydei remains in his mind as he closes his bedroom door, expressions long committed to memory flashing through his head as Phainon slides a third finger into the heat of the toy. In truth, the silken interior is just like he'd imagined in some errant fantasies of his…
The weather in Okhema is still strange to Mydei, even after all this time.
In both his mind and in his exhausted muscles, it is currently the early evening — he and Phainon had spent all day beating back the forces of the black tide along the path between the holy city and the Grove, starting their march from the moment they awoke in the morning until they reached Okhema just a few hours prior. The silvery light of the moon ought to be pouring over him, signalling the end to this particular chapter of battle before it started again tomorrow. And yet, it's nothing but the midday sun that he's faced with, same as always.
"Lord Mydeimos, I had a question if you wouldn't mind."
Ugh. And then there's the gaggle of wide-eyed youths tailing him through the city like motherless ducklings. This, too, is an unfortunately common occurrence.
"What if I did mind?" Mydei says lowly, levelling a flat look at the fresh-faced man leading up today's brigade of hopefuls, his naïveté painfully clear in the watery blue of his eyes.
Damn near every day that he's in this city, a group of young warriors will seek Mydei out, hoping for tutelage or pointers in their training or even for him to turn around and conscript them into the Kremnoan army right there and then. And each time Mydei will look at these foolhardy youths who yearn to die for meaningless causes, and he'll struggle to find the words to adequately deter them from the life they think they want.
The boy blinks at Mydei in surprise, apparently unprepared for pushback. "Oh, um, that is—"
"If you want someone to baby you, the Deliverer has more patience than I." Or at least, Phainon is better practiced in polite deflection than he is.
With that, Mydei picks up his pace as he sweeps up the staircase leading towards the baths. That should be enough to get the message across, surely? All Mydei wants is to report in to Aglaea and try to get some sleep through this stupid eternal sunshine.
Of course, the world can never give Mydei what he wants. For at that very moment, something happens beneath his clothes that stops him dead in his tracks, both hands drawn into fists at his sides.
There is something inside of him. Intimately. Mydei can't even think to breathe, all of his senses focused in on the intrusive feeling between his legs. He's distantly aware of the gang of youths catching up to him, confusion laced through words that he cannot perceive right now. What is this feeling, so similar to— But he's alone, he's in public, how can—
Whatever this thing is, it suddenly takes this opportunity to move. Mydei stumbles in surprise, a hand flying out to secure himself against the nearest solid surface. He doesn't cry out, the sheer shock of what's happening keeping him stunned into silence. But he doesn't know how long he can keep that up if this spectre is going to continue exploring him so insistently, pushing deeper inside him like, like— oh Titans, these are fingers.
It makes no sense, but nothing that has happened in the last minute has followed any kind of logic. All Mydei knows is that some invisible, disembodied hand is suddenly and enthusiastically having its way with him, and if it keeps up like this it's going to become difficult for Mydei to keep this situation under wraps, dammit.
"Lord Mydeimos, can you hear me?"
It's that insistent boy again, appearing at Mydei's shoulder once more with his hand hovering awkwardly between them, unsure if he's permitted to touch a prince. If Mydei weren't so ruinously distracted he'd roll his eyes.
"You, report to Aglaea," Mydei barks as he turns on his heel as smoothly as he can manage, starting back down the stairs in the opposite direction and making a beeline for Janus' secret passage. "Tell her I'll rearrange our appointment."
"Huh, but I— the lady Goldweaver?!"
Mydei does not turn back to offer the lad another word, he simply doesn't have the time to spare. It might be construed as a slight towards Aglaea for him to cancel so abruptly at the last minute, but Mydei cannot afford to worry about that right now; if nothing else, her golden threads will be able to tell her that Mydei is in legitimate distress, and he can only pray that she doesn't dig any deeper into his head than that.
A third finger slips inside as Mydei reaches the bottom of the stairs into Marmoreal Market, nearly sending him tripping over the final step. Worse than that, he can feel himself starting to respond to the wicked ministrations, an unmistakable wetness forming in his underwear. It feels like a betrayal, but how can Mydei blame his body for reacting in this way? Nonsensical circumstances aside, the ghostly fingers are good at what they're doing, bolder in their exploration as time goes on.
Even more reason to hurry home. Mydei drags a hand over his face, wiping away the sweat forming on his forehead, and soldiers on through the most awkward walk of his life. He doesn't dare to lengthen his stride the way he usually would, maintaining an uncharacteristic — and frustratingly slow — shuffle across the market, ducking into quiet passages to let out the shuddering exhales he can't hold back when those fingers curl just so.
A fourth finger had made its way in at some point along the way, and Mydei wills himself forward as urgently as he can waddle, teeth clenched now not only from the stretch, but from an unsettling thought — what next?
Mydei's hands are shaking as he unlocks his front door, and he nearly drops his keys entirely when the unthinkable happens — the fingers withdraw. The feeling of emptiness is as acute as it would be if this was real, if the digits inside him had belonged to an actual person with a face and a body, but there's no time to dwell on the bizarre sensation. This should be a boon, he should be celebrating that this was merely a close call and not an unmitigated disaster, but Mydei doesn't believe he's lucky enough for this to be the end of it.
Fighting his sudden lack of dexterity, Mydei gets the door open and dashes inside, slamming it closed behind him and pressing his back against the hard surface. What the fuck just happened?
There's barely a moment to gather himself before his fear is realised, something blunt and wide making an appearance, shoving in without preamble — ahhhh fuck.
In the safety of his own home, Mydei doesn't hold back the groan that tears out of him as he drops to his knees in the entryway.
One week later
Mydei sighs as he contemplates his teleslate. This is the third such message that he's going to have to leave unanswered. He knows he can't ignore Phainon forever, lest the Deliverer show up on his doorstep, but Mydei truly isn't in a position to see anyone right now.
On that cursed day where Mydei had found himself lying in his own spend on the floor of his house in the city, breathless after taking a pounding like nothing he had ever experienced (in more ways than one), he had thought errantly that this might be the lowest point in his entire life, and that was saying something. How wrong he was, though he had no way of knowing that at the time.
For the spectral pervert had visited more than once. Over the past week, Mydei has found himself set upon by those same wicked fingers four times already, always followed by…
Mydei shivers. Needless to say, it had only taken one more near miss for him to forgo leaving the house entirely until he can figure out how to break whatever bizarre curse has been put upon him. He itches to train properly, having exhausted all of his ideas for at-home workouts already; Phainon's request to spar yesterday had taken an almighty amount of willpower to resist, but how could Mydei possibly explain what was happening if he started leaking right there on the training grounds? Not to mention that the Deliverer would absolutely claim it as his victory, and that simply could not stand.
It's fine. All of the pent up energy that Mydei is accruing can go towards ringing the neck of the culprit behind all this. It shames him to admit, but he knows it's the same person each time; Mydei has grown sickeningly, unjustly familiar with the length of their fingers, the frankly ridiculous size of their—
His teleslate vibrates on the table again.
Annoyingly, Mydei knows this isn't an empty threat. He needs to come up with a plausible excuse, but his mind is emptying at the thought of a steaming hot bath, logic and self preservation dissipating like the water vapour he'd find there. It's been a really long week, and it's only Lucid Hour. Surely even the phantom who haunts Mydei doesn't need to relieve their urges at this time of day? They have a life beyond ruining Mydei's, right?
Picking up the teleslate, he curses Phainon for his persistence, for this is all surely his fault.
"You seem tense."
Phainon wilts under the searing glare the Kremnoan prince levels at him.
"You don't." Mydei replies accusingly.
"Heheh…" Phainon rubs the back of his head bashfully, his hair damp from the steam already.
The thing is, yeah, Phainon has been rather relaxed lately, but not for any reason he'd be comfortable saying out loud, and certainly not in public. Besides, it doesn't seem right to call attention to his newfound inner peace and tranquility when Mydei is so clearly going through a difficult time himself.
Ignoring his messages is one thing, but when Mydei hadn't shown up to spar was when Phainon sensed a disturbance in his friend's delicate inner world. And just now, watching him show up to the Chrysos Heirs' baths with all that obvious tension along his shoulders, Phainon knows he was right to be concerned.
To an outsider, the scowl on Mydei's face may seem like nothing out of the ordinary, nor would the bags under his golden eyes as they sought out Phainon across the room, nor his world weary sigh as he lowered himself into the bath next to him. But Phainon is well trained in the subtle art of reading Mydei's moods — not receiving a word of protest from him over sitting in the medium temperature bath? Something is weighing heavily on Mydeimos' heart.
"I've been sparring with Stelle recently, since you started ditching me," Phainon says airily; the first rule of broaching any kind of emotional, inner feelings type of conversation with Mydei is to make it seem like it's anything but that. "She doesn't have our level of stamina, naturally, but she's a refreshing fighter."
The corners of Mydei's eyes narrow infinitesimally. "Hm. Her."
Phainon fights to keep his mouth from curling up at the corners; he knew Mydei had something against the trailblazer ever since their little jaunt to Kremnos all together, though he couldn't begin to guess at why exactly. He's ready to needle him about it, get Mydei annoyed enough that whatever is bothering him will slip out one way or another, but then something unexpected happens.
A pair of men get up to leave the baths, chatting amiably. That's not the unexpected part, this is a perfectly normal thing to see in fact. What's not at all normal is the way Mydei's gaze quite openly flickers downwards as the two go to fasten fresh towels around their waists, those pale eyes clearly focusing in on a particular area with a thoughtful, assessing look. Right in front of Phainon?! This is so far from discreet that it has him questioning everything he ever thought he knew about the other man.
Well. Evidently Mydei's inner struggles are sexual in nature, good thing that's all cleared up. Phainon can feel his face igniting and he can't even blame it on the heat, darn it. This sure is unfortunate though; Phainon has no idea how he can help in this particular area of woe. Or rather, he absolutely knows how he would like to help, but how in the world is he supposed to broach that kind of conversation??
"…Deliverer."
"Huh?" Phainon's voice cracks as he zones back in to Mydei looking at him with an unimpressed raised eyebrow.
"I was talking about your new little friends," Mydei repeats, only a little exasperated, hopefully. "They must have seen some strange things out in— out where they come from."
Phainon's mind goes straight to the innocuous looking egg-like object in his bedroom at home and Stelle's perverse glee in telling him about it. "Most certainly. Why, do you need their expertise on something?"
"No." Mydei is very quick to reply. Oho, a fascinating response; it's almost enough to distract Phainon from the thought of Mydei being so desperate and frustrated that he's eyeing up random strangers in the baths without a hint of shame, right where Phainon can see him no less. Did he say almost? He meant not in the fucking slightest.
Before he can put his foot in his mouth and say something that will embarrass both of them, Phainon notices someone new entering the baths, this one mercifully covered up for now. It's a young man he doesn't recognise, looking around with a barely concealed awe that tells Phainon this is his first time in the Chrysos Heirs' baths; a newcomer to Okhema, then. Putting on his most hospitable face may be just the distraction Phainon needs from whatever is going on with Mydei today; as if on cue, the young man meets his eye and immediately lights up, padding over to the low wall that Phainon and Mydei are currently reclining against.
"Hello there, my lords! I hope it isn't too forward, but my name is Alkaios and I'm a Chrysos Heir." Alkaios speaks with nervous energy, kneeling down at the edge of the bath with twitchy fingers, unsure if he's allowed to shake their hands or not. Kids like this always make Phainon smile, knowing that he used to be just like them.
"I should hope so, or I'm going to have to ask you to leave our private baths," Phainon jokes, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you Alkaios; I am Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, and this is Castrum Kremnos' own Prince Mydeimos."
There's no doubt that Alkaios absolutely knows who they both are already, but it gives Phainon a kick to see Mydei's face twist in annoyance at being regaled with his full title, doubly so when Alkaios beams in delight at him.
"Gosh, it's such an honour, both of you," Alkaios glances between them like he's faced with a display of artisan honey cakes, though he's clearly heard a thing or two about Mydeimos the Undying and it shows, his eyes biasing towards him out of the two of them. "The Titans are smiling on me today."
Mydei's face is neutral as he also reaches out for a handshake, but Phainon notices once again the moment of deliberation where his gaze lingers on the boy's hand — goodness, even this? Studying the shape of his fingers, perhaps? Just what has become of you Mydei? Phainon's own fingers twitch with a petty impulse to snatch Mydei's wrist and pull him back, but he settles instead for propping his elbow up on the rim of the bath, hand resting on the smooth tiles.
"Say, um, a few of my friends should be arriving here soon. I don't suppose you'd consent to saying hello to them too, would you…?" Alkaios is positioning the question for both of them, but his hope-filled eyes stay fixed on Mydei. Heh, he really manages to attract these types, doesn't he? Poor Alkaios, unknowingly stepping right in it, and while Mydei is in a bad mood no less — Phainon will offer a prayer for him.
And yet, Mydei's refusal doesn't come as swiftly and firmly as it usually does. In fact, Mydei appears thoughtful as he looks over the young man, and for the first time ever Phainon can't even begin to guess what is brewing behind those eyes.
"Yeah, sure." Mydei says.
Tiles crack under Phainon's grip.
Everything seems to move so quickly after that; Alkaios jumps to his feet, giddy with anticipation, and Mydei is moving to get out of the bath before Phainon can blink. He's graced with a demure flash of bare, muscular ass before Mydei promptly covers himself up; Phainon's head whips around to make sure that Alkaios wasn't looking anywhere he shouldn't be, but the lad is already darting ahead to find his friends and thus is allowed to keep his head attached to his shoulders for another day.
Phainon finds himself getting to his feet even as he makes no move to follow, stunned into inertia by how topsy turvy the last five minutes have been. He didn't even get a chance to protest.
And say what, exactly? That he doesn't want Mydei to go and politely say hello to some fresh-faced Chrysos Heirs because he might give them that same appraising look that keeps passing over his face today? It sounds pathetic even in Phainon's head, and unbelievable besides. Mydei just doesn't act like this. Not usually…
But Mydei is a man, just as Phainon is; it's not out of the question for him to seek out external satisfaction on occasion, and the openness with which he's looking suggest a real need. Yet, he hadn't ditched Phainon for the first person he set eyes on. Therefore he's desperate enough to want it, but picky enough to keep looking until he's found exactly what he wants the most…
Phainon looks down at himself. He's a humble person, he swears; but if Mydei wants something specific, surely Phainon has it? Especially down there.
Without another thought, Phainon gets moving. He doesn't bother to fasten a towel about his waist as he gets out of the water, rivulets streaming down his legs as he paces through the baths, head turning right and left until he spots that familiar sunset-coloured mane. Focused as he is on his mission, it's impossible to ignore the stares boring into him as he passes, and with good reason: he's tracking water everywhere, ignoring Okheman custom, and, ahem, swinging freely. For once, Phainon wishes that he wasn't a 'what you see is what you get' type.
No matter; as long as the right person sees, Phainon can endure any gossip, stares, or blows to his reputation.
Oh, there he is! Mydei is alone again, no Alkaios nor an entourage of his peers surrounding him, and there's a spring in Phainon's step as he realises none of them must have made the cut either.
"Mydei~" He calls out in a singsong voice, smiling widely as the Kremnoan turns around.
"There you are Deliver…er…"
Mydei, finally acting in accordance with Phainon's expectations, glances down. There's a minute widening of his eyes and his eternally scrunched brows retract just a centimetre, a look which translates to complete shock on Mydei — yeah, Phainon's had that before.
"Mhm, that's the one…" Mydei all but whispers.
Phainon is not mentally prepared for the fist that comes flying towards his face a second later.
"…making this a habit, you know. Humour me and try a cooler bath next time, okay?"
Phainon blinks open his eyes to find Hyacine standing over him, her arms crossed as she stares down Mydei with a disappointed frown on her face; Phainon well remembers this look from his school days, and it always worked a treat on him. Mydei, however, is unmoved, mirroring her posture. He opens his mouth to speak when he notices Phainon looking between them, and then he tsks instead.
"Oh, Lord Phainon, you're awake!" Hyacine is on her knees next to him now as Phainon pulls himself out of the recovery position to sit up properly. They're at the entrance to the baths where the air is less humid, and a towel is securely tied around his waist; shame blooms in Phainon's heart as he realises that Lady Hyacine absolutely saw his cock and balls, but her eyes are mercifully clear and free of judgement as she presses an ice pack against his temple, which he belatedly realises is throbbing something awful. The heart of a maiden is strong indeed.
"Not much to worry about, fortunately; no concussion or anything of the like," Hyacine says with a gentle smile. "Lord Mydeimos let me know what happened already."
"Great, because I'd also love to know." Phainon levels a firm look at Mydei as he speaks, tilting his head questioningly.
Mydei clicks his tongue again and refuses to meet Phainon's eyes. "Don't play dumb, Deliverer."
Hyacine glances between them suspiciously, her gaze lingering on what Phainon is sure is shaping up to be a very impressive black eye. She's not stupid, and whatever Mydei told her is likely too flimsy to hold up under any kind of scrutiny; Phainon can see her medical professionalism wavering against the pull of academic (and personal) curiosity. Great, Aglaea is going to hear about this through her threads and firsthand testimony.
"Well," Hyacine says finally, snapping her first aid kit shut and getting to her feet, "I'll let you two figure it out between yourselves. Keep as hydrated as possible and don't do anything too strenuous for the rest of the day. And good luck, Snowy."
She doesn't hold back a giggle as she leaves with a cheery wave, and Phainon can't shake the feeling that the healer has left him here to die.
Ignoring the furious aura that Mydei is exuding, Phainon looks around until he finds his clothes folded neatly on a nearby low wall; no guesses on who did this, or else Phainon gets the feeling he'd be going fishing to get each piece back. He pulls his underwear on beneath the towel before discarding the damp square of fabric with a small sigh of relief that he won't be flashing anyone else today, even if it was his own fault in the first place.
"You know, if you wanted to spar instead of coming here," Phainon says as he tugs his black undershirt on, "You could have just said so."
His olive branch burns in the wake of Mydei's unimpressed glare. To an outsider, this too may appear to be a perfectly normal expression for the Kremnoan prince to wear; but Phainon knows too well that the tightness in his jaw is far from typical, and the hardness in those eyes of honey masks real hurt — a wound which Phainon caused, somehow.
"Don't think you can talk around this with that silver tongue of yours, Phainon. I demand an explanation."
Shit, he's pulling out his actual name and everything, this really is serious; if only Phainon knew what it was that he'd supposedly done.
"You want an explanation when I'm the one with a black eye here?" Phainon can't help but bite back, his confusion quickly eroding into frustration at Mydei's refusal to get him up to speed when he's so obviously lost. "I know you're not offended by seeing my dick after you've been eyeing up everyone else's all this time."
Mydei inhales sharply, and for a moment Phainon thinks he's about to get punched again; instead he's merely shoulder-checked as Mydei storms past him on his way outside. The competitive streak in him sparks, and Phainon vows in this moment that he won't let Mydei get away without telling him what in the name of the Titans is going on here.
"Running away now?" He goads as he follows Mydei into the streets, coat thrown haphazardly over his shoulders in his haste.
"I'm offering you the privacy you didn't afford me," Mydei snaps back cryptically. "Not that you deserve it."
And so it continues as they weave through the streets of Okhema, Phainon receiving nothing but tetchy and pointed remarks which do nothing to illuminate the situation for him. It doesn't click for him just how familiar the route they follow is until they're right outside Phainon's front door, Mydei turning to look at him with crossed arms and an expectant eyebrow raised.
Is this what he meant by privacy…? Phainon wonders as he turns the key and nods at Mydei to head in first.
Evidently so, as he finds his back slammed against the door as soon as he closes it, Mydei glaring up at him with teeth bared.
"What is wrong with you? You could have just asked, I…" Mydei shakes his head, and Phainon tries to take the opportunity to fish for some desperately needed context.
"Listen, Mydei, I really don't—"
"More importantly, how did you do it?" Mydei's cheeks are growing flushed, angry and perhaps something else Phainon can't quite place beneath it.
"Mydei…"
"What kind of cursed fucking sorcery would allow you to—"
With a sigh, and seeing no other option, Phainon swings his forehead into Mydei's nose with a decisive crack. The other man stumbles back enough for Phainon to herd them out of the hallway — if they're going to fight over whatever this is, he'd prefer a bit more space.
Mydei roughly wipes away the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand and spits on Phainon's rug. Lovely. "Playing dirty, Deliverer? It's more your style than I realised."
As much as Phainon loves a good fight, his frustration is cooling now that they're inside and he's realising that it's his furniture on the line here. Planting his hands on his hips, Phainon says, "Mydeimos, when are you going to figure out that I have no idea what you're talking about."
"How can you pretend not to know?! Of course you're responsible for this, you waved the evidence right in my face," Mydei snarls, gesturing at Phainon's crotch for some gods-forsaken reason, "Yet still you feign ignorance!"
"What does my dick have to do with this?!"
"You've been ghost fucking me with it all week!"
Phainon recoils like he's taken another blow to the face. A long silence falls as he tries to decode that sentence into something that might make sense. He fails.
"…I've been doing what?"
The tension that had been building up in the room, thick and heavy as summer heat, suddenly dissipates into nothing. The righteous anger drains from Mydei's face as it finally, finally dawns on him that they aren't on the same page here.
Leaning heavily on the dining table, Mydei directs his words towards the vase of flowers at its centre. "This past week, I've been… someone has been touching me. Intimately. Except, no one is actually there, not physically. But I can feel it, it's as real as anything I've ever known."
Mydei taps an uneven rhythm onto the surface as he searches for the right words. It's a rare thing, but Phainon equally has no idea what to say right now.
"I thought it was random, at first. Not any one person in particular." Mydei continues gruffly, admirably pushing through the awkward story with only a light blush sitting high on his sharp cheekbones. "The timing wasn't consistent, but I came to notice the patterns in how they moved, and that it was the same… their features became familiar, I mean."
For all that Mydei is a big man, all hard muscle and power that drew Phainon in in the first place, he feels as cautious as a mouse when he turns back to him, pausing to unbuckle one of his gauntlets before reaching forward to gently take Phainon's hand in his, then lifting them up to press their palms together. Mydei's fingers are a little blunter and shorter than Phainon's, though they're both equally calloused along the insides of their knuckles, the tough patches of skin rubbing against each other coarsely, a testament to their warrior spirits.
"It was a person with long fingers, like yours."
With a clarity that has Phainon's stomach dropping out, it all suddenly makes sense; this is why Mydei was scrutinising everyone at the baths.
He swallows, his throat so dry out of nowhere. "You were looking for someone with a, um, with a—"
"Someone with a really fat cock, yeah."
Phainon drops their hands in order to bury his face in his own, the surface of his skin already burning against his palms. There's a tugging at his fingers where Mydei peels his shield away, his eyes softer than they've been all day and unexpectedly shimmering with a hint of mirth; the very prettiest of expressions one can be lucky enough to glimpse on Mydei's face.
"Now that you're all caught up, care to explain, Deliverer?"
The actual, unbeaten, best way to get Mydei to open up is at Phainon's expense. He should have known.
"I wish I could," Phainon admits, "But I have no idea what could have caused this… connection. I believe you, of course, but the whole situation frankly sounds magical—"
As soon as the word is out of his mouth, the revelation hits him like a ton of bricks.
"Oh. Actually, I have something to show you…"
Mydei sits on the couch, his pomegranate juice forgotten on the table as he squeezes the onahole between his fingers with furrowed brows, so serious in his examination of it that Phainon has to bite back a laugh.
"And it's supposed to be… enchanted, somehow?"
"You sound surprisingly sceptical for someone who's been on the receiving end." Phainon says with a raised eyebrow, politely trying not to imagine said scenario with limited success.
Mydei scoffs, turning the onahole on its head to peer at the hole on the underside. "I fail to see how anyone is supposed to fit a whole dick in there. Especially not—"
He cuts himself off with a sharp gasp as a fatally curious finger slips past the opening and Mydei suddenly sits bolt upright. The toy is jostled from the abrupt motion and almost tumbles to the floor, but Phainon is able to pluck it out of the air before it ends up rolling under the couch and — Titan's forbid — Mydei ends up with dust in that most intimate of areas. He makes a mental note to clean under there as soon as possible.
"Well, that proves one thing," Phainon observes, very aware of Mydei scrutinising the fleshlight in his hands like it's an explosive rather than a sex toy. "It doesn't change targets depending on who uses it. Right now it's only connected to you."
"And how did that happen, Deliverer?" Mydei says pointedly, an absolute trap of a question and he knows it.
Phainon feels his face heat up immediately, mentally imploring Mydei not to follow that particular line of thinking. "I would not have used it if I knew what it did, I hope you know." He's deflecting, but it also suddenly feels very important to say. "I just thought it was oddly lifelike."
"Hm." Mydei ponders the toy in Phainon's hands, his pale eyes assessing, wondering perhaps how his very essence has been linked to this strange little egg-shaped trinket — it's a question that's been spinning around Phainon's head since the full, mortifying truth was revealed as well. "So if you hadn't felt it firsthand, how much more time would you have wasted fantasising about being inside me?"
Phainon chokes on his own drink. "Excuse me?"
Unphased by his outburst, Mydei pushes himself upright to stand before Phainon's chair, staring down at him with an unreadable look; the sweep of his bangs shades his eyes, turning the cool yellow of dawn into a molten gold sunset, framed by the stark red lines of the tattoo sitting so perfectly beneath his eye. Phainon always thought it was so cool, that proud testament to Mydei's strength, his ability to withstand pain; and now, paired with this simmering look, it's never looked better.
"You're a fool, Deliverer." So he says, but there's warmth beneath the words, "It's all over your face even now; did you truly think I was blind to your desires?"
And then the prince of Kremnos is lowering himself into Phainon's lap, and then he's taking Phainon's face in his warm, rough palm, and then—
Kissing. They're kissing. Mydei is kissing him, surprisingly plush lips pressed into his with a tantalising trace of sweetness from the juice remaining that Phainon yearns to taste with his tongue. Mydei is kissing him, even after everything that Phainon did to him…
"I'm sorry," Phainon murmurs as he pulls back enough to look up at Mydei with gently furrowed brows. As much as he wants to dive back in and eat his fill of Mydei's sweet lips, his conscience tugs at him like a leash around his neck; unknowingly or not, he's taken advantage of Mydei so much these past days, how can he sit here and try to take even more? He's a greedy person, Phainon can't deny that, but in this he needs to at least try to show some restraint.
"Tch." Mydei regards him flatly, clearly unimpressed with his noble attempt at reconciliation. "Mutt, what are you sorry for?"
This takes Phainon by surprise. "I— Isn't it obvious? We shouldn't be doing this Mydei, I have no right to touch you like this."
"It's a bit late for that," Mydei says in his typical, no nonsense manner, punctuating his point with a very deliberate roll of his hips, pressing himself into the meat of Phainon's thigh. "Save your self-flagellation for later and try looking at what's right in front of you."
Oh, it's hard for Phainon to look anywhere else. Everything that he's tried to limit to discreet glances when he thinks Mydei isn't looking is laid out before his eyes; the wide expanse of his torso that Phainon has longed to map out for himself, tracing the bold lines of red with his own fingers; the obscene jut of his pecs, so firm and so plush looking at the same time; the powerful thighs bracketing Phainon's own. It's a genuine dream come true, not to mention the part that Phainon hadn't even dared to dream about: Mydei looking at him with those warm, wheat-yellow eyes of his, really seeing Phainon for what he truly is, and not turning away.
Phainon reaches out to touch Mydei's braid, tracing his fingers over the bumps that are as smooth and soft as he'd always imagined. "You truly want this?"
"I want you, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae," Mydei covers his hand with his own, guiding Phainon to cup his cheek. "Always have."
When he slots their mouths together this time, Phainon offers no resistance, letting his mouth fall open for Mydei's eager tongue to explore. It's so warm, as warm as Mydei's face beneath his palm, and somehow even better than anything his mind has conjured up each time he's imagined this scenario. He wraps his free arm around Mydei's waist to steady him, delighted at the unexpected little sound it pulls out of him; and once again Mydei is grinding onto Phainon, though he suspects it's far less deliberate this time. Regardless, it leaves Phainon sighing into his mouth as his trousers start to pinch.
This is really happening, he can't help thinking as Mydei comes to grip the back of his head, fingers lacing through his hair — Phainon has always wondered if the pointed tips of Mydei's gauntlets were as good at scratching itches as they appeared to be, perhaps if he asked nicely…
Regardless, the fact that he could ask such a question without fear of seeming too flirtatious feels like the epitome of wishful thinking. Yet Mydei not only shares Phainon's feelings but is enthusiastically reciprocating them with his tongue down his throat right now. And so Phainon lets himself lick back into him with equal fervour, still half suspecting that this perfect dream might evaporate at any moment; if so, he has no other choice but to gorge himself while he still can.
Panting, Mydei pulls back for air. Phainon also takes a large gulp for his protesting lungs; he hadn't realised how long they'd been at it, and yet he still feels deprived as soon as they part. He moves forward to chase those lips once again, but Mydei shifts his weight further back on Phainon's lap, sitting back to remove his pauldron and roughly pull at the section of his robe which makes a token effort of covering him up (not that Phainon has ever complained about this).
The movement causes something else to shift in Phainon's periphery; where the two of them were pressed together, he can now see the onahole sitting innocently in his lap, having slid from his grasp when he was otherwise occupied. Glancing up, he notes that Mydei hasn't noticed its reappearance as he unclasps his remaining gauntlet, focused only on getting undressed so they can get back to business as soon as possible, no doubt.
Phainon really shouldn't.
Mydei is about to gently toss the glove onto the couch when he startles, metal clattering to the ground noisily for no apparent reason. Phainon just smiles at the furious glare levelled at him.
"Don't mind me. I'll stop when you're ready."
The look he receives is flatly unimpressed, but Mydei can't hold it for long when Phainon wiggles his finger further inside the toy, sliding off his lap in order to get his greaves off and to try and mask the little whine that Phainon catches anyway.
As much as he wants Mydei naked in his lap as soon as possible, watching him squirm and struggle through taking the rest of his clothes off is just too tempting. Just as he widens his stance to pull one of the overlong boots off, Phainon slips a second finger in, unable to hold back a chuckle as Mydei's thick thighs slap together in suprise; the onahole, too, seems to shift around him as it happens. He can't believe he never noticed before.
"No need to hold back those pretty noises, Mydeimos." He punctuates this by pushing his fingers as far in as they can go, watching with satisfaction as Mydei's knees knock together and he still tries to choke down the moan that bubbles up his throat. "Have you been trying to keep quiet all week, even when no one could hear? How hard that must have been."
Mydei ignores him as he valiantly pushes onwards, successfully getting one boot off and unbuckling most of the second one even as his breathing grows heavier and his thighs rub together with increasing frequency. It's okay, Phainon can get him to crumble.
"I wish I could've seen you like this, spending these days holed up at home and dripping. For me."
At that, Mydei's head whips up, his eyes a burning gold as he glares at him.
"I looked like this in the streets of Okhema. What do you think of that?" He spits out, so searingly beautiful it sends a thrill up Phainon's spine.
Phainon grins at him with teeth bared, under no illusions of how unhinged he comes across. That's his Mydei; he always manages to hit where it hurts.
"Hey Mydei, my hands are a bit full over here. You'll have to help me out."
Finally wrestling his trousers off, Mydei leaves his underwear in place as he comes back to settle on Phainon's lap again, giving him a tantalisingly brief view of the damp patch that his fingers are causing. He's stroking inside only casually now, letting Mydei get used to his presence without keeling over, so gentle that he knows it will be driving him mad not to know when Phainon might ramp up again without warning.
Mydei presses his clothed cunt into Phainon's thigh with a barely perceptible squish at the same moment he hikes the black shirt up enough to expose Phainon's entire torso. He can't help exhaling in surprise at the suddenness of it, an advantage Mydei immediately pounces on to stuff the hem of the shirt into Phainon's mouth. And he has the gall to smile down at him about it, all smug and cute and fuckable.
"About time you stopped talking," Mydei murmurs as he closes the gap between them with his hands.
He's not shy in his exploration, reaching out with both hands to map the circumference of Phainon's waist, then pressing his fingers into the ditches between the rows of his abs. As he traces the line of gold that adorns his collarbone, gaze warm and movements unhurried, suddenly absent of the desperation that possessed their earlier movements, it occurs to Phainon for the first time that Mydei may have wanted this for just as long as he has.
The thought is chased away when Mydei settles his hands on Phainon's pecs and squeezes shamelessly, flesh peeking between his fingers.
"I always catch you looking at mine," Mydei observes as he kneads Phainon's chest, "Which is bold for someone who shows off all that cleavage as well."
Tastefully! Phainon tries to say through the fabric in his mouth, but between that and the ghosting of palms across his nipples, he doubts he gets his point across. Mydei is ignoring him anyway, settling his hands on the edge of his pecs in order to push them together in a manner even Phainon has to admit is obscene. Perhaps not as tasteful as he thought…
Mydei flicks at a nipple and Phainon's fingers twitch involuntarily — he honestly hadn't been thinking about the fleshlight until Mydei lets out a sharp whine above him, returning the favour by rolling the dusky bud under his thumb. The rough surface of Mydei's fingertip is maddening against the sensitive area, and Phainon can feel his saliva soaking into the balled up shirt as the teasing touches continue.
Again he delves deeper into the toy, not with the intent to be annoying as before, but simply because he can't keep his hands still while getting played with like this. He wants to get a third finger in and feel even more warmth around him, but it's hard to see the right angle to approach from with his shirt bunched around his face and the sandy crown of Mydei's head in view as he leans in so close. Phainon tries anyway and ends up snagging just the rim of the hole with his fingertip for his impatience.
The hands roaming his chest stutter, and Phainon distinctly feels a sudden dampness against his thigh. He's not sure why — he hit close to the opening but not quite, yet Mydei is leaking all over him regardless; surely the onahole wasn't also connected to…
Mydei is already wincing when Phainon spits out the fabric to look up at him with pure wonder. "Mydei, was that your—"
Never one to let Phainon have anything, Mydei retaliates by pinching both nipples at once. Phainon cries out indignantly, but he can't keep his voice from trailing off breathily at the end. Damn it all, why does it have to feel so good?
"You're sensitive here, aren't you." It's not a question, it doesn't need to be. Phainon didn't even know it for himself before today; trust Mydei to draw these things out of him, and doubtless he'll ever let him forget it.
Mydei is back to rubbing his fingers over the pebbled nubs, almost apologetic for the rough treatment. And then he ducks down to press his lips against Phainon's right nipple, a chaste little kiss that leaves Phainon jerking back in surprise.
"What are you doing… ahn—"
The onahole slips out of Phainon's hands and rolls between his leg and the arm of the chair as Mydei closes his mouth around his nipple. There's a groan of protest at the sudden emptiness, the sound vibrating maddeningly through Phainon's chest; even still, Mydei is leaking against his thigh more than ever, his underwear surely soaked all the way through by now.
With his hands free again, Phainon grabs at the back of Mydei's head: as expected, the sunset-hued hair is impeccably soft beneath his palm, more befitting the pampered prince Mydei was born to be than the warrior Phainon fell for. He wants to muss it up, scrunch it in his fist until Mydei looks as fucked out as he's making Phainon feel.
He starts by pushing Mydei's face harder against his chest. The angle cannot be comfortable on his neck, but Mydei responds to the added pressure with vigour, laving his tongue over Phainon's nipple like he has to commit its taste to memory.
Phainon's breath shudders out of him as Mydei presses his tongue directly over the abused bud, so Mydei does it again. This time Phainon's voice hitches on the inhale, so Mydei does it again. Phainon's fingers curl around locks of hair as he realises Mydei's game, that he's tailoring his movements in response to the sounds Phainon makes, reading him just as he would when they spar, and somehow even more devastating.
"Haah, you're so good with your mouth," He gets out, his voice growing rough with desire, "Thought that was supposed to be my thing."
There's a brush of teeth and Phainon gasps, his eyes crossing just a little as the raw-nerve sensitivity spikes through him. When his focus returns, Mydei is sat back again and smirking at him devilishly. Gods, he's incredible.
"None would dare deny your gift of the gab, Deliverer. I was just making sure you're good to go." At that, his gaze darts down. Following, Phainon winces at how hard his cock is straining against his pants; now that his attention is refocused on it, the tightness is unbearable. "Looks like."
Mydei stands then, finally pulling Phainon's shirt all the way over his head as he does so. The nipple he ravished is protruding more than Phainon has ever seen, cherry red and shiny with spit.
"What about the other one?" Phainon cocks his head; his left nipple looks frankly neglected in comparison, even with all the teasing touches it received earlier.
Mydei raises a brow, so coolly unbothered. "We could waste time with that if you want…"
Hooking his fingers around his waistband, Mydei tugs his soaked through undergarments down at last.
"Or you could fuck me."
Phainon is moving before his brain can catch up, taking Mydei by the shoulders and shoving him backwards until he sprawls onto the couch, a slightly dazed expression on his face from the force of the manhandling. With a hand on each muscular thigh, Phainon spreads them apart for a better look at his prize.
He's always known that Mydei didn't match him down here, and truly he'd never given it a second thought — Mydei would end up on his back for him either way, so what difference did the parts really make? Phainon sees now that he was underestimating how good he has it, for Mydei's pussy is perfect. Thick, puffy lips crowned by dark blonde curls and glistening wet, and all of it for Phainon alone.
"It's nothing new, really; you've had it before," Mydei says wryly, shifting his hips such that Phainon can literally see some of that wetness drip out of him. "Go ahead and touch it for real."
Swallowing, Phainon can't help but disagree with Mydei's assessment; this is like nothing that he's ever experienced before, a fantasy he hardly dared to dream of. Now, not only is it real, it's shining and dripping and beckoning him in like a forbidden fruit. As if Phainon could treat this as something familiar, even if he does already know exactly how velvety those walls feel.
Mydei's thigh is quivering beneath Phainon's other hand as he reaches his fingers towards Mydei's weeping cunt, laying them flat and stroking against his lips with the barest pressure. Mydei breathes out through his teeth, and an evil thought floats through Phainon's head.
"Hold on a sec," He says, turning back to the single seater they were just occupying.
The look of sheer disbelief on Mydei's face is priceless. "Deliverer, what do you think you're—"
"Aha!" After a brief rummage, Phainon straightens up with a familiar egg-shaped toy between his fingers. "There she is."
Following a gentle underarm toss, Mydei catches the fleshlight as it comes sailing towards him, still looking blankly up at Phainon. His sweet Mydei can be so charmingly slow on the uptake sometimes.
"I'm sure you're curious to try it, right?"
Mydei glances at Phainon's crotch again, his tented underwear poking through the zipper he'd pulled down before he actually hurt himself. "I'd rather you—"
"Mydeimos," Phainon says firmly, stern enough that Mydei's gaze snaps to him immediately, mouth closed and protestations swallowed. "Finger yourself with it."
Without another word, Mydei turns the fleshlight so that its opening faces him. His throat bobs, but he doesn't make Phainon wait before plunging two fingers straight inside and scissoring them open.
Coaxing Mydei's legs open with his hands again, Phainon watches closely as Mydei's folds open up around nothing, moving at the behest of an invisible source. He can't help grinning at the fantastical sight, paired with the full-body flush that makes Mydei's tattoos all but disappear, all the while knowing that Phainon himself is the one who has been inflicting this on him all week.
"How does it feel, baby?" Phainon squeezes a thigh encouragingly, rubbing circles with his thumb.
Sweat shines on Mydei's forehead as he scrunches his eyes closed, but still he obediently pumps his fingers in and out, in and out. "Weird…"
"I bet it does," Phainon says with exaggerated sympathy, sliding a hand further down Mydei's thigh, close enough that he just barely catches the outer edge of Mydei's labia with his thumb. "But you're opening up so good for me."
Mydei's eyes are glazed over as he blinks them open, looking up at Phainon for further encouragement. "Yeah?"
"Absolutely." To show his sincerity, Phainon finally pushes down his pants and underwear enough to let his cock spring out, redder and angrier than he's seen himself in a long while.
Mydei's ministrations halt as he looks down, the incorporeal movement between his legs stilling in time with the motion of his wrist — oh, Phainon is never going to get tired of this toy, may Kephale smile upon whoever enchanted it so. Mydei doesn't look quite so delighted, his face schooled into a deliberately neutral expression. Pity for him that Phainon can read right past it — even if his track record hasn't been great lately, he's confident this time.
"Come now, this is nothing new for you either." Phainon teases, making himself bounce. He means it to be funny, like he's waving at Mydei and his pretty pussy, but the shift in Mydei's eyes is more like horror as he shakes his head minutely. No word for fear, yeah sure.
Phainon swipes two fingers across Mydei's folds, gathering up the juices to spread over his cock while he strokes himself. Mydei's slick really has such a shine to it — Phainon has never seen anything like it — and it looks even better coating Phainon's girth as his hand moves back and forth.
"You know how to take this, you've done it before."
"This is different," Mydei insists, though he's wetting his lips as he says it. "If I'd been able to see before, then—"
"Then what? You'd politely decline? You'd back down?"
Mydei's attention snaps to his face then, glaring indignantly. Mydei's pussy lips start to part again, seemingly on their own, but as Phainon moves his gaze up he sees two fingers and a thumb inside the fleshlight and pulling the space open as wide as they can. Too easy.
With a smile, Phainon hikes up one of Mydei's legs to rest on his shoulder and guides himself towards the gaping, slick-shiny opening with one hand.
"That's right baby, open up nice and wide for me."
Not giving Mydei any time to reconsider — not that Phainon would let him — he pushes in, plunging as deep as he can in one smooth motion, only stopping when he hits something that makes Mydei thrash beneath him with a punched-out gasp. Phainon lets go of his base so that he can pin Mydei's hip down against the cushions and grind into him just that little bit further. Mydei's voice ratchets up so beautifully in response that Phainon wants to do it even more, knowing full well that he won't fit in any more than this.
There are still a couple inches of Phainon exposed to the air, but with the way Mydei is gushing over him he couldn't care less; he's as slicked up as he would be if he were all the way in anyhow. Mydei knows just how to provide for him.
They're both panting as they wait for Mydei to adjust to the stretch, and Phainon finds himself thinking of all the times Mydei has compared him to a dog; there's a sassy comment he could make here, he's sure, but his brain is somewhat addled on account of the vice grip around his cock right now.
"It's okay baby," He says as soothingly as he can, "Just relax."
"I am." Mydei replies through gritted teeth, not relaxed in the slightest. He goes to pull his fingers out of the onahole, and suddenly Phainon is choking on a gasp.
"I can feel you," Phainon breathes. "You're still in here."
It seems obvious now that he's said it out loud, but Phainon hadn't been expecting to feel the brush of blunt fingers against his dick at the same time as being stuffed to the brim in Mydei's gorgeous cunt.
The owner of said immaculate pussy is looking at him with similar disbelief in his eyes. And then his fingers start to move once more.
This time the touch is purposeful, fingers tracing along his length and teasing the head until the next stroke is sticky with pre. Mydei finds a vein that runs along the side and lavishes it with attention; and all the while, the tightness with which his walls hug Phainon close begins to ease up.
"Feeling me up while I'm inside you," Phainon says, unable and unwilling to keep the wonder out of his voice, "You're gonna drive me crazy."
Onahole still in hand, Mydei lifts his arms above his head, baring that beautiful body to him with nothing in the way. "Then go crazy, Phainon."
And perhaps he is a dog, in the end; for all his stubbornness, Phainon knows when to obey.
He pulls his hips back until just the head is still inside before slamming back in; he doesn't wait before doing so again, pushing Mydei further up the couch with each thrust. Coaxing Mydei's leg to bend even further so that Phainon can crowd closer into him, Phainon dips his head down to press his lips against Mydei's throat, nibbling at the soft skin while he feels it move with barely restrained moans, ah ah ah-ing in time with the pace Phainon sets.
With Mydei sprawled out under him for the very first time, flushed and sweating and beautiful, Phainon is struck by how much more there is for him to taste. Every centimetre of skin before him, whether red or dark tan, Phainon wants to map it with his tongue, embed the taste into his sensory memory so he can call on it whenever he wants.
And so he does.
He licks. He sucks. He bites. He litters Mydei's chest with his love, leaving scattered marks wherever he wills it; some are neat, others are over-large where his own sloppy thrusting pushes him astray. It's going to look perfect when he's done.
Mydei wriggles beneath him, the tone of his moans growing whiny as he tips toward overstimulation, but the unyielding pressure of Phainon's hand at his hip leaves him pinned. Helpless. That's a fun thought. The heel of Mydei's foot hits his back and his hips jerk upwards as if to buck him off, but all Mydei achieves is bumping Phainon deeper inside.
Phainon thinks Mydei likes it, having no escape. The pushing, the whining, all it does is call attention to how he's trapped beneath Phainon's full weight, pinned like a butterfly. All this when he could drop the fleshlight at any time and use his hands to push Phainon off. But he doesn't. Phainon bites him more, fucks him harder, groans against his skin, and Mydei does nothing to stop him.
Throughout it all, there are still phantom fingers nudging against him, teasing and purposeful in their touches. He's not sure how there's room for both of them in here when Mydei's walls are still hugging him so snugly, even now; and Phainon is certain that if he were capable of lifting his gaze from the expanse of Mydei's chest then he'd see the onahole bulging in time with his thrusts, its pliable texture stretching and pulling over and over in his wake.
Phainon is unravelling. His movements are getting sloppy, the rhythm spiralling away from him as the desperate need to fill Mydei up clouds his mind.
"I want you," he pants, the stupidity of the words hitting him as he says them, but it's true. It doesn't matter that he's inside him already, just like it doesn't matter that their skin is slapping together and his thighs are wet from how Mydei is still leaking all over him — he just wants more. He wants it forever, he wants, he wants—
"Okay, I hear you," Mydei grunts, a huff of amusement chasing his words. "You're gonna get rugburn, you know."
Phainon courageously slows himself down as Mydei's leg slips off his shoulder, allowing him the extra range of motion as he moves to sit up with an impressive display of core strength, then Mydei drapes his arms around Phainon's neck so that the squishy-soft surface of the onahole is resting against his nape before pressing their lips together. This time it's Mydei who nips at him, catching Phainon's lower lip between his teeth none too gently. It's hardly undeserved payback, to be fair.
He'd always expected, in his mind when he would daydream about moments like this, that Mydei would be a sweet kisser; tentative, romantic, the kinds of things that no one would expect of him because people get so caught up on appearances, and Mydei simply doesn't look the type to ever be soft. They're wrong, of course; Mydei is much more in tune with sensitive emotions than he's ever given credit for. But, in this particular instance…
Well, a stopped clock is still correct twice a day, right?
This Mydei is demanding of his attention, sucking on Phainon's tongue while he bounces shallowly in his lap, grinding himself against Phainon's abs while he makes wanton, maddening sounds straight into his mouth. If this is the kind of lover his Mydei is, then Phainon will end up ruined by him. And he's glad for it; as if he'd ever desire anyone else.
The onahole presses into the back of his neck again, the rubbery texture moving sinuously against his vertebrae like he's getting a massage. Mydei shudders, a ripple passing through his whole body. Wait a minute.
He pulls back with a wet smack as their lips part. "Mydei, are you…?"
It happens again, the edge of the toy catching on the topmost ridges of his spine, as if it's seeking them out. And again, in perfect synchronisation, Mydei jerks against him, eyes screwed shut, like he's brushing a live wire.
"You're playing with your clit, aren't you?"
Mydei shakes his head, but a sharp breath betrays him as the toy squishes against Phainon once more. Gods, and Phainon had been worried that this accursed fleshlight would ruin everything they had together. Turns out Mydei is just as much of a freak as he is.
"So naughty, who would have thought it."
Mydei musters the wherewithal to scowl at him, flushed and sweaty and about as intimidating as a kitten. "Wanna cum on your cock, Deliverer, is that so wrong?"
And Mydei certainly is still making a valiant effort to force that last bit of exposed cock inside of him, grinding his hips down with purpose even though he's already so stuffed that his stomach is slightly protruding. A second evil thought hits Phainon's psyche.
"I can help you with that."
Phainon moves one hand to support Mydei's lower back, sliding past those wide hips with an indulgent squeeze along the way, while his other hand slips beneath one of his thighs. And then, without giving Mydei a moment to process what is about to happen, Phainon tenses his legs and pushes himself into a stand.
"What the fuck, Phainon—"
This time the fleshlight is smacked against his back as Mydei scrambles for purchase, instinct keeping him from realising that there's nothing to worry about, that Phainon's got him.
And just as he expected, the weight of gravity helps him to slide all the way home. Now that's a distended stomach, and Phainon feels a rush of pride to know that it's allllll him. Mydei lets out an open-mouthed yowl at the stretch, his legs twitching spasmodically where they're hooked over Phainon's hips, but then he squeezes, milking that final half inch as if to make up for lost time.
"So greedy," Phainon murmurs into Mydei's shoulder, "I love it."
"H- how are you even doing this…?"
Phainon cocks his head with a smile. "You're not that heavy, Mydeimos."
A strange look crosses Mydei's face for an instant. Just as Phainon is about to ask what's wrong, he feels a rush of wetness hit his abdomen.
Oh.
Mydei just creamed himself while Phainon held him off the ground. He cracks a wide grin.
"You like that, huh?"
Shifting his hands to support Mydei's hips now that he's secure around Phainon's midsection, he lets himself flex his muscles more than strictly needed, biceps popping as he hoists Mydei upwards again, moving the warrior prince up and down his cock at Phainon's leisure.
There's a soft plap sound as the onahole slips out of Mydei's hands and hits the floor. Mydei doesn't even seem to notice, writhing in place, his juices still gushing as he tips into overstimulation; once again, he's powerless to do anything but submit to Phainon's pace.
"Fuck, fuuuuuck, keep going, fuck me full."
He still doesn't seem to mind.
Phainon watches the bulge in Mydei's stomach vanish and then reappear each time Phainon pulls him down as he thrusts upwards; the size of the distension feels more obscene each time he looks at it.
"Yeah, keep using me like your toy."
Phainon's hips stutter. Holy shit, he's right, Mydei is his own human fleshlight right now. Was this whole strange series of events somehow leading them right here?
The realisation sends Phainon over the edge, hot seed flooding into Mydei's tight embrace as Phainon continues to fuck him through it. He buries his face into Mydei's shoulder as he empties out, panting with the weight of release after all this time. He did it, he fucked Mydei. He's still fucking Mydei, he's cumming in—
"Deliverer, look." Mydei's voice is even rougher than usual, completely fucked out. Phainon did that!
He follows Mydei's gaze downward and all but chokes on his own saliva. If Mydei was bulging before, Phainon's load has made the protrusion damn near double in size. It almost looks like…
"Mydei, you got pregnant so fast. I'm impressed!"
There's a harsh yank on his ahoge. "Idiot, don't joke about that. You can put me down now."
"I can, but do you want me to?" Retribution is swift, once again. "Okaaaay, okay."
Phainon gently lowers Mydei back down to sit on the couch, pausing a moment on the precipice of pulling out. Mydei meets his eye, nodding. No time like the present, Phainon supposes.
He slides out his softened cock in one fluid motion. What happens next reminds Phainon of the time the bathhouse had a leak, fucking hell. He shakes his dick a little, adding one more sad glob to the puddle. He wishes he'd gotten fully undressed earlier.
Glancing up, he finds Mydei with a hand pressed to his mouth, gaze also fixed on the mess with an undeniable wonder, and Phainon immediately feels cheered up.
"You're surprisingly freaky, Mydei."
"You're unsurprisingly freaky, Deliverer."
He grins in response. "Guilty."
Stepping carefully over the carnage and promising himself that he'll clean it up soon, Phainon deposits himself on the couch and lays down on Mydei's lap, suddenly exhausted. He doesn't miss the wince that crosses Mydei's face as he feels how sodden Phainon's lower half has become, but he doesn't push him off and facedown into his own cum; if that isn't love, then what is?
"This wasn't quite how I imagined our first time going," Mydei observes drily, blinking down at Phainon. "But I suppose I should have seen it coming, given that you were always going to be involved."
Phainon smiles up at him. "So you've been thinking about it, too."
Mydei coughs and looks away, a flush high on his cheeks that definitely isn't lingering exertion. "I still haven't heard an apology out of you."
"Well you didn't say sorry for punching me either!"
"Oh, do you think you didn't deserve that?" Mydei cracks his knuckles playfully. Definitely playful and not serious at all, Phainon is manifesting.
Phainon hums thoughtfully. "Perhaps I wasn't innocent, but I'm pleading ignorance and you can't deny it."
"Keep talking, debate kid, see where it gets you."
"Balls deep in you again, I hope."
The flash of outrage on Mydei's face is so comical, so Mydei, that Phainon can't help bursting into laughter. He hadn't let himself fully formulate the thought, but there had been a lurking shadow of worry in his heart that things would change between them after this. Whether this became an official Thing or not, Phainon didn't want to lose his sparring partner, his destined rival.
He should've known that such a thing would never happen.
Phainon sits up then, throwing an arm over Mydei's shoulder and squeezing, hoping that he can feel his sincerity through it. Mydei rolls his eyes at him. Perfect.
"So, how'd I do? Everything you ever hoped for and more?" Phainon asks, smug.
"You were…" Mydei trails off, looking over the veritable explosion of cum, the mosaic of bruises blooming on his chest, and finally fixing his gaze on the perpetrator Phainon.
"You were easier to deal with as a disembodied penis."
Stelle stares longingly at her phone, bemoaning Amphoreus' lack of gacha games to Dan Heng for the nth time when there's a knock at their suite's door. They exchange raised eyebrows.
"I didn't think ol' Snowy was gonna show his face around here again," Stelle muses as she unhurriedly heads over to greet their guest. "At least, not any time soon. Ego death takes a lot to recover from."
"That's not what that means." Dan Heng says without looking up from his book.
"It's about the vibe. Hey, have you been hearing this also? Lately everyone has been saying he has a massive— oh." Stelle stops short as the door swings open. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."
The prideful, undying Mydeimos stands before her, a box in his hands containing a seemingly random assortment of items — hold on, is that a cock cage…?
Stelle leans forward, a sickening glint lighting up in her eyes. "What can we help you with, gracious prince?"
"Two things. You're going to tell me which of these are enchanted," Mydei jostles the box in his arms, "And which one the Deliverer will enjoy the least."