Archive of Our Own

“My roommate?” Phainon began, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant, distracting himself from the resurgence of crushing anxiety and rejection by opting to read the nutrition label on the back of his protein bar. He'd only just calmed his heart after their latest confrontation had Mydei storming out of their dorm.

“Uh… right. Yeah!” Titans, did he ever hate lying to Cyrene, “It went… Well. He's out right now. He’ll be back later. Probably. But I get the sense that we're going to get along just fine,” Unadulterated blasphemy—he was definitely not seeing heaven at this rate, but… grinning and bearing with it felt more noble than it did to concern his best friend with the unfortunate reality.

“Phai…” Cyrene began, and he could hear with near perfect clarity the lopsided smile she must have been wearing—the one that said, I know you're lying, but I won't force you to tell me.

And really, well… That just made him feel ten times worse.

“I…” He sighed, his anxiety bleeding into his voice, “I think it’s just been… a rough start. That's all. And that happens, right? I'm sure things will get all cleared up in no time—I just have to learn not to stick my foot in my mouth. People around here are already confusing and he's…” He felt bad, slandering his roommate without him being there to defend himself, “Just a little difficult. But, hey—you know me! I'm great at making friends–” an objective truth, for a change—which made accepting this new reality all the more difficult.

“I'll figure it out, okay? Promise!”

“Phainon…” Cyrene began with a soft sigh, sympathy audible even over the staticky connection, “Just try to remember that not everyone will think the same way you do. People from all walks of life attend Epiphany Grove—just. Try not to let it bother you too much…” She trailed off, “Okay?”

“I'll ah… I'll do my best, okay?” Phainon promised, another truth to hopefully help balance his poor track record. “I still have some unpacking to do, so I'm going to let you go for now.”

“I'll talk to you later Phainon, good luck!”

“Bye now,” Phainon hung up with a smile, his expression falling the moment the line went dead, finally emitting a long-suffering sigh as he sank down onto the floor of their small kitchenette, bracing his forearms on top of his raised knees and resting his forehead against them.

For the tenth time that morning, he recounted their… Confrontation—if you could even refer to it as such—determined that if he could just figure out where he went wrong prior to this latest bout—which absolutely had not been his fault—then he could make amends and they could at least be on amicable terms.

He tried grasping for any passing innocent comment, or a misplaced gesture that might have sparked Mydei’s ire—but every attempt frustratingly brought him back to the same, barren result.

It had only been a week, and already Phainon was agonizing over someone he'd barely met.

Mydei’s dislike for him was apparent from the start—an unavoidable, crushing reality that Phainon had taken way too personally.

He had been forced to accept that it wasn't something he'd done—It was simply him. Mydei didn't like him for being Phainon. That realization was all too bitter of a pill to swallow; how could he fix something that wasn't any fault of his own, but by his very existence? He—Phainon, always having been extremely friendly and palatable to strangers—was suddenly facing an unassailable wall of animosity. The irony was not lost on him, and really, it just made him feel more terrible.

It was almost worse that Mydei had stormed out—almost. It had become abundantly clear that Mydei didn't take kindly to being offered either niceties or shown vulnerability. Phainon had always figured the saying “to kick a man while he's down,” was an exaggeration—but Mydei had long proven that was demonstrably false. Show Mydei weakness, and he'd make you feel worse for having done so.

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The sound of the door opening perked his ears, the light bleeding in from the hallway stirring him from his half-asleep state. He winced, squinting as he blindly groped for his phone to check the time.

Mydei only returned just before curfew—and it was almost funny to think that, despite being so combative and volatile, he still followed rules so readily—if it hadn't only been reinforcing the fact that he wanted to spend as little time in Phainon's proximity as possible.

He sighed, the sound a low, mournful wheeze that should have only been heard by his own ears.

Mydei scoffed. Phainon's face scrunched up instinctively, cringing as he brought his blanket up to his neck and curled up even tighter.

Perhaps his expectations were simply too high—everyone had problems with their roommates, right? Nobody got along perfectly.

“You didn’t lock the door?” Mydei huffed, sounding genuinely aghast at the prospect. “Are you always so careless?”

Phainon bristled, but released a long, deep breath, and kept his mouth shut.

“If you refuse to leave, can’t you at least do that much?” Mydei grunted.

Another dig. Phainon bit his tongue. He already had a thousand things he wanted to say but… He wanted to be the bigger person. He didn't want to fight Mydei—of course not. Why would sweet, even-tempered Phainon want to fight Mydei–

Despite himself, his lip curled, and the façade he'd put up with his new dormmate started to slip—after having spent the better part of the day feeling worthless, the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach had begun to simmer with ire.

It was worth noting that Phainon had, thus far, kept reasonable control over his temper—it was also worth noting that his typical rule of maintaining a ‘mild temperament’ no longer applied, with Mydei being neither a stranger, nor an acquaintance.

Which was to say, Phainon was not inherently sweet nor was he even tempered—and he didn't tolerate abuse in any capacity, perceived or otherwise.

And what was this if not abuse? He closed his eyes, Mydei’s audible frown chasing after him even beneath the safety of his thick blanket, “And you sleep with your back to the door. What if someone broke in while you were asleep?”

Oh God. Now he even had a problem with the way Phainon slept.

It wasn't a heavy straw, by any means, but Phainon released an incredulous, sardonic laugh.

Mydei made a low sound of warning–a noise halfway between a snarl and a hiss, “Did I say something funny?”

“Funny? Mydeimos, I really don't think you'd know humor if it hit you square in the face,” Phainon finally snapped, sitting up so quickly that it almost made him dizzy—it didn't render the intensity of his glare any less effective—if anything, his narrowed eyes, squinting in the dimness, only served to bolster it.

If Phainon hadn't known any better, he'd have thought that something like surprise flashed across Mydei’s severe features—right before his rich golden eyes, which seemed to glow in the darkness, swept over his form.

“Oh, so the dog does have teeth,” Mydei sneered. Phainon made a show of rolling his eyes. “So, what is so amusing to you?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” He simpered.

Mydeimos deadpanned, eyebrows furrowing, “Why would I waste my breath if I didn't? Are you losing your hearing too, or are you just brainless?”

“I just don't think it's worth wasting my breath on you, Mydeimos,” he rebutted lamely—it was too late and he was too exhausted to form a wise comeback, but Mydeimos didn’t seem to care that he’d only thrown his own insult back at him.

Mydei's eyes darkened at this, toned arms folding across his chest, drawing emphasis to the dark, sleeveless top hugging his torso. If Phainon had been any less tired, he might have dwelled on the fact that he found Mydei frustratingly alluring in a way he didn't quite understand.

“I don't think having a conversation with you, about anything, ever, will be even the slightest bit productive, so I'm choosing to be the bigger person and to ignore you.”

Mydei's nostrils flared, glowering as his tail whipped behind him, further adding emphasis to his growing malcontent. “Childish,” he replied lowly, hissing something in a foreign tongue under his breath and shaking his head. “Where is this even coming from?”

Phainon stared at him like he'd sprouted a second head, narrowing his eyes, “You're still messing with me? You just don't know when to quit, do you? Tell me, am I really that awful to be around?”

Unwittingly, Phainon's voice had begun to raise in volume as it trembled. Something like alarm settled across Mydei's features.

“Why are you getting so… emotional?” Mydei answered warily, and Phainon blinked dumbly at him, lower lip trembling and his ears lowered, further betraying his upset—the scent of it already having permeated the room and made Mydeimos shift uneasily from foot to foot.

The way the question was asked was with an air of… Not nonchalance or accusation, but genuine befuddlement—like Mydeimos truly had no idea what the problem could be—almost making Phainon cave. Almost.

He blinked his widened eyes rapidly as he focused on regaining control of his breathing, alert ears pressed flush against his snowy hair. He was just… stressed. About many things—the move, a new school in a new city with weird people and a weird roommate who hated his guts—and he was just so tired. He missed the comfort of his own bed, he missed the way the sun filtered in through his white curtains, he missed the gentle, warm breeze and the scent of the wheat fields awaiting harvest. He missed his mom and dad, and he missed Cyrene—he missed being home.

Through his bleary vision, he couldn't see the visible change in Mydei's disposition, arms falling down from his sides as he looked towards him with a thinly veiled alarm.

“You… Okay,” Phainon began incredulously, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Okay.” He nodded, the word coming with a despondent, humorless chuckle, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, absently running his palm over where his heart hammered away at his ribcage, “If you don't mind, as much as I'd love to continue this pointless back and forth, I was sleeping.”

“We are not done here,” Mydei bit back without heat, but otherwise decided to drop the topic—it was now five past curfew, and Phainon’s volume had grown increasingly loud in his apparent frustration. It appeared anything Mydeimos had to say to him just agitated him, and Phainon giving up so easily hardly felt like a victory.

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Mydeimos was already gone by the time he woke up—something that, today, he was exceptionally grateful for—he was in desperate need of decompressing.

He felt terrible, and their latest argument had only further contributed to his rising anxiety. He… Didn't want conflict in the one place he was meant to feel safe in and be able to retreat to. Mydeimos had inhibited that, intruding upon his safe-haven with his apparent resting volatility.

Speaking of Mydeimos…

At the foot of his bed sat a neat pile of clean, freshly folded laundry.

Phainon breathed out a defeated sigh—he’d go insane if he looked into it any further. While it still seemed like it was impossible for them to understand each other, maybe he just needed to… Set clearer boundaries?

He snorted in disbelief—yeah right. He could imagine now that Mydeimos had only had something to say about the fullness of his laundry basket, or something equally as ridiculous.

His first class of the day wasn't for another few hours, leaving time for him to finally finish unpacking, to eat something, and then to finally head to the gym—he hadn't had much time to visit since he'd settled in, and he was starting to feel antsy about losing progress.

It definitely had nothing to do with feeling like he had to compete with a man who looked like Mydeimos—defined, cut muscles contrasting with Phainon's leaner ones in a way that made him feel unbearably envious.

It was almost like… Mydeimos had been bioengineered specifically to piss him off. Most people weren’t that overtly antagonistic, and if he considered the idea that Mydeimos treated everyone else the same way, it made him feel a little better knowing that he wasn’t completely alone. Probably. Right?

He blinked, pulling a face.

He had figured that society had become civilized enough that predatory thirens could coexist with relative ease—but maybe people from the city weren’t actually as domesticated as he’d been led to believe.

Was Mydei even from Okhema? His stilted, harsh way of speaking lacked a certain familiarity—but Phainon knew better than to assume anything about cultural backgrounds.

A giant, exotic cat… And a wolf—both males, both, historically, extremely territorial… Maybe there was, in fact, some aspect of truth to their genetics playing a part in this battle.

His train of thought ended as he let himself into the campus gym, his gym-bag tucked under his arm, wireless earbuds in his perked ears with the volume turned down low in consideration of his sensitive hearing. He stored his belongings in one of the lockers in the changing room, quietly humming along to the music with a soft smile on his face—when he was in a sour mood, burning off steam at the gym never failed to lighten his spirits.

After doing a few stretches, Phainon headed towards one of the machines he was familiar with and began doing light reps, focusing primarily on his legs and glutes over the course of the next half hour.

He startled when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, apparently completely unaware of his surroundings, and spun on his heel to face the source—blinking down owlishly at the tiny, pink-haired Holovian that greeted him. A warm smile found his face before he could help himself, reaching to pull out one of his earbuds as he tilted his head to the side, struggling to fight back a grimace, the tufts inside his ears getting in the way. With the stranger’s large, bright eyes and small stature, he found himself almost immediately thinking of Cyrene.

“There we are–” He finally managed with a relieved sigh, eyebrows raising atop wide, curious eyes. “Hi!” He greeted warmly, tail swaying from side to side. “Did you need something?”

“Yes!” She replied, with even more enthusiasm—enough to startle Phainon again, jumping slightly—as she crossed her fingers in front of her with a shy smile, “I’m very sorry to be a bother, but—would you mind too badly if I asked for your help learning how to use some of the equipment here? There’s a few things I’m… Not totally familiar with.”

“Oh! N-not at all,” He managed with a soft laugh, gesturing vaguely, “Please. After you!”

Most of the equipment he was reasonably adept in using—apologizing and scratching at the back of his head sheepishly when it came to some of the newer, or less familiar looking machines—but he remained in high spirits, eager and happy to be of some assistance, and happy to be making a new gym buddy—even going so far as to humor coordinating their future workout routines. Quite belatedly, they finally exchanged names—her name was Hyacine. Phainon thought that was a lovely name that complimented her bubbly disposition.

What had begun as a positive start to his day came crashing down rather abruptly, his face falling and his ears lowering as he stiffened and immediately went silent, much to the confusion and concern of his new friend.

“Is… something wrong?” She inquired gently, blinking, a soft frown on her face. Phainon did feel guilty…. But to say he felt threatened was an understatement.

“You don’t know how to use this?” Mydeimos’s deep, incredulous voice began, and Phainon bit at his lower lip—he dreaded the idea of leaving Hyacine on her own, but every instinct in his thiren body was screaming at him to leave, now, before his mood worsened.

He forced a laugh—a hollow, ugly sound. “There’s a few things here that I haven’t seen before,” He began, a little defensively—“So I’m not very familiar with how to use them.”

Mydei’s eyebrows furrowed, “Then you’re not fit to be helping someone learn how to use the equipment here, are you? You should have suggested that she ask a staff member.”

“Hmm. Well!” Hyacine chipped in suddenly, “Phainon here has been a wonderful help, and I doubt I could learn how to properly use all the equipment here in just the span of an hour regardless!” She explained with an airy laugh, but the fluttering of the wings on either side of her head betrayed her anxiety—it was virtually impossible not to sense the thick tension between the pair.

Putting aside his pride, Phainon sent Mydei a silent, pleading look to let it go—whether or not it was effective was debatable, but Mydei still sighed and pointedly glanced away.

“I’m usually here every other day—if there’s anything here you’re curious about, you can come and ask me.” Almost-smiles on Mydei looked… strange, but the effect it had on Phainon was instantaneous—alarm, and something else that didn’t need acknowledging at that particular moment in time.

Of course. Of course.

Mydeimos had a lovely smile—it was really too bad he had such a massive stick up his ass when it came to Phainon—because he was apparently nothing if not amicable towards Hyacine.

Mydei walked away without any further pleasantries, and Phainon sighed in relief, deflating and offering Hyacine an apologetic expression.

“Everything okay there, mister Snowy?” Hyacine pried quietly.

“Everything is…” He began, squinting and frowning, “We just don’t… Get along very well–” He took a breath, “I—My apologies, Hyacine. That was inappropriate for me to say.”

Hyacine hummed, tilting her head to the side, “Are you sure you’re okay, Phainon?” She asked again.

Phainon opened his mouth, and then closed it.

“You look…” She put a finger on her chin, thinking over it for a few seconds, “Dejected?”

“It’s that obvious, huh?”

“I’m afraid you wear your emotions on your sleeve… But even so, there’d be no hiding anything from me, anyways!”

“That’s… A little terrifying,” He mumbled aloud, earning him a giggle from Hyacine that made him feel just a little better.

“Well,” She began, bouncing on her heels, wide eyes so full of knowing that it was almost disconcerting—like she saw everything. A godsend, perhaps—not even Phainon knew what he was feeling.

“Thank you very kindly for the help—I should let you get back to your routine, I’m sure you’re on a schedule!”

“I–” Phainon began, glancing at the clock, “Oh. Oh, Kephale. Yes—I’m going to be—I have to go!”

Hyacine laughed again and waved at him as he took off towards the locker rooms. He grimaced when he realized he didn’t have time for a shower, opting to instead just change into his casualwear and opt to wash up properly later—He hoped he didn’t smell too strongly, but he didn’t have much of a choice if he didn’t want to risk missing class this early on in the semester.

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Beside him, Castorice grimaced.

“Phainon… I apologize for my forwardness, but you smell quite terrible.” She wrinkled her nose, waving her hand in front of her to waft the scent away from her nostrils for dramatic effect.

“I–” Phainon began, trying to subtly lift his arm to sniff himself—sure, he had missed his post-workout shower, but… it couldn't have been that bad… could it?

He sighed, forlorn. “I know. I apologize,” He tried instead, deflating visibly. “I just got caught up in something at the gym beforehand, and I didn't want to be late for class,” he explained, “I'll try and be more careful next time.”

Castorice narrowed her eyes in suspicion, ears perked and spotted tail flicking behind her. 

“Caught up in something?” She reiterated, expression otherwise impassive.

“Yes–” Phainon started, before gasping in apparent shock, “What? No!” He whisper-yelled. Why would you come to that conclusion?”

She tapped her chin in thought, humming, “Phainon… Getting defensive only worsens your case. I also didn’t say anything untoward—you simply inferred it.”

Phainon squinted at her, genuine befuddlement written across his features, “What?” He repeated dumbly.

“Predatory animals use their keen sense of smell to detect prey. This should be something you’re well aware of…” Castorice trailed off, almost suspiciously, an indecipherable expression on her face, “Prey animals become agitated when placed under physical or emotional stress…” She continued, leaning in without blinking—for such a gorgeous woman, she sure could be scary—what was with his luck with terrifying women lately?

“Oh. Oh–” Phainon began, snorting in disbelief. “Cas, you really need to get better at getting to the point. When you said I smelled terrible–”

“Does this have to do with Mydei…” She interrupted instead, squinting.

Phainon sighed, burying his face in his hands, “Is it really that obvious?”

She stared at him for a few seconds, contemplative.

“Do you want my honest thoughts or are you hoping for comfort?”

“Give it to me straight, I guess,” He grimaced, bracing for impact.

“Lions and Leopards have a very similar sense of smell, generally speaking…” She started, carefully. And then, more quietly, as if he weren’t meant to hear, “And hunt success rate…”

“...Right. So you’re saying that he’s equally as aware as you are. That’s fantastic news.”

“Is it? I won’t judge you openly for your… interests, Phainon, but…” She remarked dryly, eyebrows furrowing as she side-eyed him.

“No,” Phainon deadpanned. “No, it’s not.”

“Hmm. Well, if it lessens the sting—even if it wasn’t extremely obvious to his olfactory receptors, you are quite bad at hiding your emotions regardless.”

Phainon slid further down in his seat, scrubbing a hand across his face. “You’re going to kill me, Castorice…”

“I will not,” She frowned. “And neither will Mydei, even if you’re too terrified to have a talk with him.”

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With the begrudged knowledge in mind that Mydei was, in fact, fully aware of the extent of his duress, Phainon couldn’t help but drag his feet on the way home.

He kept his chin up when he let himself into their shared dorm, unlocking the door and keeping his gaze straight ahead. The weight of Mydei's gaze burned holes into him as he plucked a fresh set of clothes from the tidy pile he still hadn't put away—the ones that Mydei had, Phainon realized again, for some reason, washed for him.

He sighed, holding them against his chest and keeping his back to the man in question. “Thank you,” He managed tightly—making it clear that while he was still far from impressed, Mydei’s act of kindness hadn’t gone completely ignored or unappreciated.

Behind him, Mydei said nothing, grunting in apparent acknowledgement. Phainon used that as his invitation to make a beeline for the shower. He took his time, allowing the hot water to wash away the sweat and stress he'd accumulated throughout the day—half-heartedly towelling off, paying special attention to his ears and tail before finally redressing.

Between the exhaustion of his workout session, Mydeimos, classes, Mydei, the late hour, and last, but not least, also his new roommate, Mydeimos—Phainon couldn't be bothered to make himself a proper, balanced meal. He grabbed yet another protein bar before dropping onto his bed and reaching for his phone.

A deep voice visibly startled him.

“What else have you eaten today?” He pried, sounding exasperated, and Phainon couldn't even bring himself to bristle.

If anything, he felt like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have—not that it was Mydei’s place to judge him for his poor eating habits.

It must have read clearly on his face—or maybe even in the positioning of his ears, or—as Castorice had kindly pointed out, his scent itself—as Mydeimos sighed quietly beside him.

“You need to take care of your body if you don't want to get diminishing returns,” He pressed, stern and somewhat callous.

Mydeimos was right, of course. Of course he was right, but–

“Why do you look like a kicked dog any time I say anything to you?”

Phainon parted his lips to speak, and the words came out before he could really even consider them.

“If you want to speak with me this badly, there are plenty of better ways to do it,” He managed drily, casting Mydeimos a sidelong glance.

Mydei shot him a long, dark look, and Phainon could almost swear the most subtle of smirks briefly touched his lips, despite him immediately scoffing and closing his eyes, arms folded across his broad chest.

“Your way of speaking to me is making sure I know how much you disapprove of either my being here—which isn't something I even got a say in—or in whatever random traits you deem unfavorable on any given day,” Phainon outlined, deadpan. “Are you even able to have normal conversations with people?”

Mydeimos’s eyes narrowed at him, frowning, “Have you considered that I simply find your company so dull that I don't care to familiarize myself with you or your interests?”

“Right. So what is it then, Mydeimos—is it that you only care to familiarize yourself with the things I do that irritate you?”

Mydei grunted in apparent disapproval, “What, are you suggesting you would not try to rid a stray of mange if it came into your home and refused to leave regardless?”

“Charming,” Phainon remarked dryly, shaking his head. “Well,” he began, waving his protein bar towards Mydei, “I have it on good authority that my bad eating habits and sleeping positions are not something that put you at risk.”

“It reflects badly upon a host to wittingly enable unwise behaviors.”

Phainon squinted at him, “Host? Mydeimos–” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, “This is my dorm, too. I paid to be here.”

Mydeimos's head snapped up at that, glaring, “This is my room. Have I not already made that clear?”

“You made it quite clear that you do hold that perception, yes.”

“I was here first, so it's mine,” Mydeimos reinforced, a deep furrow between his eyebrows.

Phainon laughed incredulously.

“And so is everything in it,” Mydeimos glowered, “Leave if you disagree. Your approval isn’t something I need.”

Phainon paused, sending Mydeimos a long, suspicious glance.

“Right, okay. Then, if it's my many assets you're after—I have either my wardrobe—slim pickings, by the way—or my stash of instant noodles and protein bars—take your pick, please!” He began sardonically, “But I'm not about to make a fuss to change my room assignment just because a grown man is trying to bully me into leaving.”

Mydeimos grunted, shrugging, “Then suit yourself—but don't complain about the consequences of your choices.”

Phainon frowned but otherwise remained silent, fiddling with the closed wrapper of his bar before finally deciding that he was just… No longer hungry, setting it on his side table. He turned to lay down—his back facing the room.

He must have drifted off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, it was to a gentle, insistent nudging to his shoulder.

He squinted, turning over to face its source, and he frowned when he blinked blearily up at Mydeimos’s stern features.

“Food in the kitchen. Go eat,” He grunted, eyebrows furrowed.

“Not hungry,” Phainon rasped.

His stomach growled loudly in denial, and he promptly planted his face in his pillow.

“Go eat,” He insisted more firmly. “Or it will go to waste.”

They did still have a refrigerator, last time he checked, but–

His stomach gurgled again, and he sighed, swinging himself out of bed with stiff movements and dragging himself to the small kitchenette.

Just this one time, Phainon rationalized—it wouldn’t change the score.

An already plated meal sat waiting for him on the counter, an identical plate already on the drying rack and no pots or pans in sight: Mydei must have already eaten, and there just happened to be enough leftover to feed Phainon, too.

That's all it was.

Phainon was hungry enough that he started eating before he had even sat down. He sighed in content as he savored the hot meal—the first real meal he'd had in… a very long time. What was the last time that someone had cooked for him?

Mydei hadn't cooked for him, he carefully reminded himself, silently deliberating over their earlier conversation—he felt like he was going a little crazy from what he could potentially infer.

What was there to even infer? They’d only been roommates for a few weeks, now—and outside of Mydeimos’s intermittent criticisms, they barely even talked. Still, his mind couldn’t help but circle back around to what Mydei had said earlier, as it so often did—‘So is everything in it,’ he'd said, careful and deliberate.

He shook off the thought, making quick work of his meal before rinsing off his plate and setting it beside Mydei’s.

He mumbled out a quiet thank you to Mydei, which went unanswered, and tucked himself back into bed.

Pleasantly full and satiated, sleep came to him even more easily the second time around.

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Phainon could state with utmost certainty that he’d never before felt so conflicted in his life. The near daily bickering became a staple, but so too did Mydeimos’s unprecedented shows of…

Phainon wasn’t entirely sure what Mydeimos was trying to do—if anything—but coupled with his mocking, he couldn’t help but feel as though these behaviors were smaller fragments contributing to a much larger whole—That Mydeimos looked down on him and didn’t have any confidence whatsoever he was capable of looking after himself.

A half truth, if nothing else—he’d give him that. But was that really all it was?

If it were purely disdain… He couldn’t imagine Mydeimos would waste his breath pestering him—no, he’d seen how Mydeimos regarded others when he held contempt for them—and it was decidedly not through chastising or feeding them.

Even if it was because Mydeimos looked down on him… Phainon wasn’t stupid enough to complain too much if this was his recompense.

And while he’d forever guard the thought close to his heart, he supposed that some small part of him deeply cherished the idea of… Someone looking out for him, even if that someone had a confusing temperament and an unconventional, if not outright counterintuitive way of showing their… Concern…? Was that even what it was?

That wasn’t to say Phainon had simply adjusted to it—a larger part of him still bristled at the concept, and Phainon still had his bad days, just as Mydeimos had his days where he pushed it just a little too far—scolding him over both everything and nothing.

Still, he took each day as it came—kept functionally sane with the support of his actual friends, now regularly texting with both Castorice and Hyacine, who both seemed to have a penchant for grilling him about his latest… whatever he could call their interactions with Mydei. The fact that their respective schedules conflicted considerably also contributed.

To the point where he almost… found himself missing Mydeimos’s company, on his days off. He grimaced and shook his head as if to dispel the mere notion.

A loud, deliberate clearing of a throat behind him shook him from his reverie—he’d forgone his earbuds today in lieu of them not being charged—not that he'd have missed the sound, regardless.

“Oh!” He startled, letting go of the bar in his hands and turning around, “Sorry. I didn't realize –”

He paused, eyebrows furrowing.

“Mydei?”

Mydei leveled him with a scrutinizing stare, a frown on his lips, and Phainon matched his expression, opening his mouth to follow-up–

“Get up,” Mydei grunted, tilting his head and uncrossing his arms. He carried that same put-upon expression that he always did. Phainon deliberated ignoring him completely—he didn’t owe him anything, not by a long shot.

But…

The slit pupils of Mydei’s eyes tracked the blur of his tail behind him—and he muffled a cough into his fist to disguise the amused grin threatening to form.

Still, he sighed in a show of apparent exasperation and made to stand, frowning as he trailed after Mydeimos—if nothing else, he was curious.

“Here. Sit,” Mydei ordered, and Phainon stilled and cast him a sidelong glance.

“I’m afraid you're going to have to put in more of an effort than that if you want me to do tricks for you, Mydeimos.”

Mydei scowled, “What? No. I don't mean it like–” He began, oddly defensive for a man who typically didn't care how his words were construed. “Just sit down,” He urged. “Don't make me regret coming here.”

Phainon's ears perked, eyes widening in mock surprise, “Mydeimos… Don't tell me—You came here just for this? I'm touched.” He inquired innocently, but not without an apparent teasing lilt.

Mydeimos's displeasure couldn't disguise the flush that stained his face.

Strange.

Intrigued, Phainon sat down as instructed—Mydei had, he realized belatedly, taken him to one of the newer machines at the gym Phainon had yet to learn how to properly use. While he understood what he was doing, he still didn't yet understand the why.

The instructional went… Reasonably well. Mydei had him point out the other equipment he'd still had yet to learn how to use properly, and then went over the basics with him on each of them. With how serious Mydeimos was about fitness, this appeared to be the one place where they could find a common ground.

But that resolve only lasted until Mydeimos got close enough to touch him when observing Phainon’s form whilst doing dumbbell squats—directions suddenly going in one ear and flying out the other. Phainon liked to think he wasn’t too obvious, but Mydeimos picked up his lack of responsiveness sooner rather than later, even as he mirrored Mydeimos’s instructions as if on autopilot.

“...Phainon?” That low voice came much too close, and Phainon attempted to offer an answering noise.

A strangled whimper escaped him instead.

He hadn't realized how tense he'd become until Mydeimos once again established distance between them. Phainon slumped where he stood as he sighed in relief.

“Are you really that appalled by me?” Mydeimos pressed—impulsively, like it was a thought he’d typically form but keep himself from voicing. He sounded equally as vexed as he was insulted.

Phainon swallowed dryly, silently deliberating over whether or not there was any way of salvaging what had seemed to be a fairly pivotal development and discovery that they still could, in fact, in some capacity, reach a mutual understanding.

He turned around, cheeks and neck aflame, and Mydeimos started. "I…" He grimaced, pressing his palm against the warmth he felt in his cheeks, "No. I just didn't expect you to…"

“Oh,” Mydei began, piercing eyes raking over Phainon’s form. He averted his gaze and sighed, "It's easier if I can touch you—I should have asked, first. But if you're too overwhelmed--"

Phainon squawked in indignation—first at the wordage, and second at the accusation.

"No! No," He interrupted, and Mydeimos frowned. "It's fine. Touch me as much as you'd like!" He forced a smile into his face, but his own choice of words caught up to him seconds later and it flickered into a grimace.

Mydeimos either lost patience or took pity on him—or both—and he gestured back towards the mat for him to turn around and face the mirrored wall again.

It was easier to maintain composure the second time around, despite how fast he could feel his heart drumming away at his ribs, or how much he could feel himself sweating. If Mydeimos noticed—He had to, given their closeness—he didn’t seem to pay it any heed. Phainon could only imagine how off he must have smelled to the lion—Mydei at least had the basic decency not to comment on it. A small mercy, if nothing else.

This extended period of shared proximity came with the even harsher realization that the discomfort Mydei assumedly felt, might not have been entirely mutual. For Phainon’s benefit, he really wished that hadn't been the case.

Mydei had only just barely worked up a sweat in taking him through the motions on the different pieces of gym equipment, and then in correcting his form during the more standard, weighted exercises over the course of the last half hour. But with Phainon’s heightened sense of smell, and the scant distance separating their bodies, Mydeimos’s scent suffused the air around him, thick in a way that stuck, as if Mydei had been exerting himself for hours.

Which was to say… He smelled delicious.

The overbearing, proper, domesticated, yet ultimately ashamed part of him, rejected the idea—felt a lick of shame pool low in his belly; But it still remained a deeply engrained, primitive response that he couldn't truly help.

There was the musk of his sweat—more subtle, given he hadn't actually even exhausted himself, but enough of a teasing hint for Phainon to realize that Mydei ever being this close to him post full workout could have dire consequences. Something deeply masculine that filled his nose and caught in the back of his throat. Not gagging him—no—encouraging him to pant, to open his mouth to breathe in more of it.

Dutifully, Phainon kept his jaw clenched shut, throat bobbing as he audibly gulped.

And there was something else, something distinctly Mydei—just as recognizable, to Phainon, as the vivid red ink laid into his skin—remaining tucked away into the folds of the notes that composed his scent. Something fixed, something that even remained beneath the scent of his soap and shampoo and the nice, inoffensive cologne he liked to wear—Slightly sweet, almost spiced, in that it seemed to stick to his tongue and to warm his lungs and chest, spreading to the itching tips of his fingers.

Drool had pooled in his mouth, and that lick of shame and dread bled into an aching burn.

“-non. Phainon,” Mydei’s deep voice caught his attention again. Phainon’s head snapped up, eyes wide and ears alert—his guilt nearly palpable.

Mydeimos’s expression was… Indistinguishable, as always—if not marginally more suspicious than usual. “You…” He began, eyebrows furrowed, and Phainon’s heart leapt into his throat. Mydei sighed instead, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “Forget it. We should wrap up here. If there’s anything else you need me to help you correct, then…” He trailed off, forcing a shrug.

“R-right–” Phainon choked out an empty laugh, “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’m going to… I’ll see you… Later?” He rambled, the words feeling as awkward to say as they sounded—plight undoubtedly worsened by the way Mydei deliberately avoided his gaze.

Phainon stumbled as he bolted upright, and he had to close his eyes and take a few seconds to steel himself when it was—of course— Mydeimos' warm hands that caught him.

“Phainon—” Mydei offered him a chastising sigh and a sweeping, contemplative glance, “Right. See you later.”

────────────

Phainon couldn't get back to their dorm fast enough—once again forgoing his usual post-workout shower at the gym proper—in favor of heading directly there, unlocking the door with shaky hands, and then locking it behind him.

For all his complaints and irritation, he had to hand it to Mydei that he did oftentimes have a point, despite his overbearingness and predisposition of instilling it into him rather than gently reminding; he'd slowly but surely found himself subconsciously cutting out those so-called misbehaviors. The train of thought elicited a derisive snort—what was he? A dog in need of training?

His eyes flickered towards Mydei's laundry basket, nostrils flaring and ears alert as his cock gave a traitorous twitch beneath his shorts.

Yes. He decided, he very much was. No well-mannered, domesticated thiren would find themselves digging through their roommate’s unwashed laundry—maybe he had deserved Mydei’s distaste and irritation.

Instinctively, Phainon sought out an article of clothing that carried Mydei's scent most strongly—lamenting over the fact that Mydei bathed so frequently—until his fingers closed around soft, thin black material. His hand shook as he withdrew it, eyes raking over the unravelling fabric, heart in his throat, left standing, triumphantly, with a pair of Mydei's boxer briefs clutched in his hand.

A low groan slipped past his lips, thighs tensing—he could practically hear the beratement now. What a shameless, dirty little mutt he was. He couldn't help but agree with that voice in his head, not when he was so hard it hurt.

He could barely get a hand down his shorts fast enough, stumbling into Mydei's bed, dimly aware that the panty snatching was already way too far, and that throwing himself into Mydei's nest was utterly and completely irredeemable for their opposing territoriality.

Wrapping his hand around his hot, aching cock… Phainon found that he really couldn't bring himself to care. Mydei could walk in on him at that very moment, and he wasn't sure that even then he'd have the self restraint to stop touching himself.

He moaned, loudly and wantonly and unbidden as he fucked into his trembling hand, the dark material pressed to his nose while he breathed in Mydei's scent with deep, greedy gasps. His cock throbbed in his grasp, pulsing with heat as he palmed over the weeping tip; a thick, continuous, and viscous drip of precum wetting the fabric of his gym shorts and slickening the glide of his fist as he jerked himself off in quick, hurried strokes.

He wasn't in a rush—but he was so, so painfully horny that getting himself off as quickly as humanly possible—to satiate that deep, pulsing heat inside of him—had become his sole prerogative.

Mydei's scent was everywhere. Full-bodied and musky against his nose, and lighter and all consuming amidst his bedsheets.

It wasn't… enough. It was good, but it wasn't enough, he needed—he needed more. Anything. Something. Mydei.

He needed Mydei.

Phainon brought the fabric down to his cock without thinking, whimpering Mydei's name and wrapping the soft material around his length—and pulled. He buried his face in Mydei's pillow with a moan, a combination of his shampoo and the scent of his hair filling his lungs as he thrusted into the bunched up fabric in his grasp.

Like this, he could almost imagine it was Mydei underneath him. Warm and soft and tight and wet around his cock—would he present himself to him? Would he allow Phainon to mount him?

Would he call him a good boy while Phainon fucked him into his own mattress?

His balls drew taut, stomach clenching as he throbbed in his grasp, increasing the speed of his fist moving on his length. The fabric was now slick with the copious amount of precum he was leaking, but not enough to detract from the friction it provided when he dragged it along his length.

That was the thought that did it for him, he recognized, somewhere, surrounded by Mydei's scent, with Mydei's underwear wrapped around his dripping, pulsing cock. He could hear it now, Mydei's deep, soft voice crooning in his ear as he clenched around his knot—

His unoccupied hand mirrored the thought, shooting down to wrap firmly around his swelling knot while he fucked into his opposite fist. He came with a ragged cry, smothering himself in Mydei’s pillow, body shaking, trembling as he soaked the fabric of Mydei's underwear through in the heavy, fat pulses he milked out of himself with the hand massaging his knot.

He wasn't sure how long he came—it could have been seconds, or perhaps even minutes. A short eternity suspended in bliss, with Mydei's underwear wrapped around his cock and his bed soft and warm beneath his body as he collapsed fully onto his front. The intensity and full force of his orgasm had sent him reeling—light and faraway—for an indeterminate amount of time, until the pulsing stopped, and he peeled himself away from Mydei's bedding with a grimace, making to stand on unsteady legs.

Thankfully, the triple barrier composed of Mydei's underwear, his own underwear, and his gym shorts had been enough to prevent him from staining Mydei's sheets. He sighed in relief…. Before his gaze shifted down towards the soaked underwear clutched in his fist. Grimacing, that earlier burn of disgust quickly returned with a vengeance—towards himself. Towards his own lack of restraint.

He had… jerked off using Mydei's dirty underwear, in Mydei's bed, while fantasizing about fucking him into that very same mattress while Mydei praised him. His forearm trembled with the strain he'd accumulated from the stiff, jerky movements of his fist on his cock just moments prior, the veins beneath his skin now thick and prominent like he'd just undergone a targeted, vigorous workout.

Phainon scoffed, a self-deprecating sound, as he stumbled to shamefully shove the evidence of his transgressions into the very bottom of his laundry basket. For an additional measure, he opted to crack the window—with Mydei's sense of smell…

Phainon shuddered, but resolutely decided not to think about it any further as he grabbed a clean change of clothes and headed towards the bathroom. With silent dread, Phainon drowned the uncomfortable coil of shame beneath the hot stream of the shower, until the water ran cold and he could no longer feel his pruny fingertips.

Dragging himself out of the washroom, he assumed he looked as pathetic as he felt. He froze upon entering their shared living space—Mydei was here. Of course Mydei was here, he lived here—but…

Mydei gazed at him curiously, blinking his sharp, feline eyes, his expression open and trusting. With the lion permitting him to share ‘his’ living space, he supposed, at some point, he must have done something to earn that trust.

And then they curved, slightly, smiling with his eyes, blinking slowly for a few seconds before his gaze returned to the textbook he had balanced in his hand.

Phainon's heart swelled, soared, and then seized and crumbled with the realization that he had really, truly crossed a boundary there would be no coming back from. Mydei was sitting, content and none the wiser while reclined against the bedsheets that Phainon had jerked himself off on not half an hour prior.

He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed quietly and closed it again when he caught the look of silent concentration written across Mydei's gentle features. He looked so… tender, so pretty and serene like this, when he wasn't scowling and cursing at him in a foreign tongue—though Phainon couldn't quite deny that even that had grown on him.

In the end, as always, Phainon said nothing, and turned in early for the night.

────────────

Phainon would have liked to forget about his… lapse in judgement. To pretend he hadn’t had that brief, pivotal moment of weakness the day prior—he was plenty good at lying to himself. He was good at convincing himself that things were fine when they really, really weren't.

He could have lied to himself again, by all accounts, but when he woke up it was to find his laundry basket missing, and Mydei absent.

Ah. Right.

He nodded to himself. Mydei was doing his laundry again—And Phainon would have no rational, logical excuse he could use to explain what he'd inevitably find there.

Internally, he bristled—why did Mydei have to be so attentive anyways? Irritation snuck up on him in the face of his own embarrassment and he decided that it was in his best interest to make himself scarce for the rest of the day.

When he returned, thoroughly exhausted after having opted for cardio today in place of muscle training, all Phainon could do was collapse onto his mattress—careful not to disturb the new pile of folded, clean clothes carefully stacked at the end of it.

He groaned, rubbing his face into his pillow—

And then froze, icy blue eyes shooting open as he jerked away, as if burned, thankful that Mydei wasn't around to see his reaction. He stared at the light blue fabric in suspicion, eyes narrowed, before slowly leaning down and tentatively sniffing at it with furrowed eyebrows.

Mydei, Phainon internalized. His pillow smelled like Mydei—his bed smelled like Mydei—

Phainon was good at lying to himself, yes—But not… not in the face of irrefutable, hard evidence. Not when he could already feel his cock stiffening in his jeans with his tail a blur behind him as he eagerly breathed him in more.

Was this… Mydei getting back at him? For further infringing upon his territory? If that was the case, Phainon feared Mydei's efforts would not hold the type of efficacy he imagined Mydei must have intended. Shamefully, he deliberated over wedging the pillow underneath his hips and mindlessly rutting against it, once again envisioning what it would be like to rutting into Mydei instead.

What noises would he make? What would his arousal smell like when it permeated the air? Would he clench around Phainon’s cock when Phainon growled against the shell of his ear? Would he… Cry out for him? Would he come untouched—

Phainon didn’t have it in himself to be ashamed the second time around. He could be obtuse, but there could only be one reason his bed smelled so strongly of Mydei—which meant that this was deliberate. Which meant… Mydei was actively trying to provoke him, now.

Oddly, the concept didn’t fill him with the same type of dread it once had—when earlier any perceived infraction would have been misconstrued as outright hostility… Phainon had the distinct feeling that was no longer the case.

If that ever even had been the case.

The sound of the bathroom door opening some feet away made his ears perk and he raised his head to cast a glance over his shoulder as Mydei swept into the room.

His breath was audible, his eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Is… Is that my shirt?” Phainon tried, voice thick with arousal, and face still flushed.

Mydei sent him a contemplative glance, picking at the hem of the oversized crewneck before shrugging with a frown.

“Mydeimos,” Phainon continued, trying for something vaguely threatening, but his voice came out resembling something closer to a whine, which… For what it was worth, did seem to earn Mydei’s attention- sharp eyes staring directly at him, expression impassive.

“Are we not in the business of sharing clothing, now?”

Phainon's eyebrows furrowed, and then smoothed in realization. He promptly planted his face back into his pillow with a groan. Mydei was going to kill him, he decided—this peculiar new territory they'd entered was something he found difficult to both stomach and process the meaning of.

He turned his head some moments later, desperately ignoring the way his stiff cock was pressed into the mattress.

“Why does my bed smell like—” he began, raising his head to blink blearily at Mydei, reclining atop his own mattress at the opposite side of the room and clad in only Phainon's shirt, the hem riding up over his hips and exposing long, thick, inked thighs.

Phainon choked, and Mydei simply sent him a curious, considering glance, pivoting to allow his legs to dangle off the edge. Like this, the hem was now dangerously close to exposing his—

Mydei spread his legs. If Phainon wasn't already certain he wasn't wearing anything underneath the sweatshirt… there was no denying it. His cock was visibly half-hard between his splayed thighs as Mydei arched an eyebrow at him. With his nose no longer pressed into his pillow, the sweet, musky scent of Mydei's unmistakable arousal permeated the air, and Phainon ached with want and realization.

“Dont ask brainless questions,” Mydei scolded without heat, tilting his head to the side and chewing at the inside of his cheek.

Yeah. Yeah, Phainon supposed that was a stupid question.

“Just…” Mydei began, and it was so unlike him to pause. To hesitate. Heat burned his cheeks, tawny skin stained a beautiful shade of red, and Phainon's eyes eagerly drank in every minute detail, ears perked and listening with rapt attention and his tail wagging wildly.

“Just come here,” He sighed, expression pinched, like there was something even he had yet to come to terms with—Phainon wasn't even entirely certain he'd heard him correctly, but he was all but stumbling over himself to obey in a matter of seconds.

He stilled, when he neared the edge of Mydei's bed, the Lion looking up at him with an indecipherable expression that paired well with his flushed cheeks as he reached up to draw Phainon in by his belt-loops. Deep, golden eyes blinked up at him slowly, silently searching, and Phainon drew his hand up to idly pat his own burning face, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

Finally, voice distant in his own ears, Phainon spoke, “Please tell me I'm not… somehow misunderstanding something—” he began, voice colored by his desperation. If Mydei felt incredulity at the statement, he did well not to make it apparent—no, instead his hands found Phainon's sides, sliding down to his hips and rubbing slow, barely perceptible circles into them. His face betrayed nothing, not even as he pulled Phainon in even closer and perched his chin on Phainon's abdomen to wrap his arms fully around his hips.

“Mydei—”

“I've been courting you for three months,” Mydei confessed.

Huh?

“Wait—” Phainon interjected hurriedly, voice trembling, “hold on. That can't—we only met—”

“13 weeks ago,” Mydei interrupted, wincing, “...Give or take,” he mumbled a little more quietly, as if embarrassed by the revelation.

Phainon wasn't entirely sure what to say, hands trembling faintly as he brought them up to hold Mydei in turn—emboldened by his very, very belated realization. One hand found his shoulder, the other tentatively combing through his soft, silky golden tresses, nails grazing over his scalp.

The deep, rumbling purr reverberating through Mydei's chest made Phainon gasp quietly, but gave him further encouragement, his chest warm and his heart full. Arousal not forgotten, but settling into a low simmer with wonder at the forefront of his mind.

Suddenly, a lot of things were starting to make sense. Mydei’s overbearingness, feeding him, doing his laundry… Phainon wasn’t a messy roommate by any means, but Mydei still made a point of keeping the shared dorm tidy.

And, to a lesser degree, his possessiveness—the fact that he seemed to make his presence known whenever someone tried talking to him at the gym…

It was all some sort of… bizarre form of courtship? Awkward and indirect in a society where such behaviors were… frowned upon, if not suppressed and shunned fully.

The deep sense of contentment he'd always felt…. Made a lot more sense, too—the idea that he was being looked after. Cared for. Because he was—and what more could he ask for in a packmate? Someone demonstrating all of the capabilities of both a provider, protector and a caregiver—qualities of either a guardian, or something more maternal…

“You could have just… said something…” Phainon tried feebly, aware it was a flimsy argument. Mydei snorted, his grin doing something to him.

“Like you did?” Mydei teased, “I took all the necessary steps to establish my interest,” He continued, almost gently, “Whether or not the gap was bridged… I left that to you.” He sighed softly, tilting his face back towards Phainon's abdomen, rubbing his face against his belly, furred ears flickering adorably with his tail lazily sweeping across the mattress behind him.

“I didn't expect you to…” Mydei murmured quietly, apprehensively—not solely because the words were embarrassing, but because he feared Phainon's reaction to them. He didn't want to embarrass Phainon, Phainon registered.

“I wasn't… thinking,” Phainon tried, voice barely above a whine, “You… you smelled so good yesterday and you kept touching me and you were so close—” he took a shuddering breath to ground himself, biting his lower lip—This close, Mydei's scent was thick, heady and dizzying in his nostrils.

“I couldn't… help myself,” He confessed, sounding… at least mildly ashamed. Mydei hummed.

“Maybe you should think less, then,” Mydei tried lightly, but the words were anything but noncommittal. “Maybe I… maybe you should just do what your instincts tell you to do, and not just what you think is appropriate.” Mydei looked up at him again, eyes dark, “Would that be so bad?”

Phainon swallowed dryly, an almost pained, conflicted expression finding his face, “I don't know… how,” He confessed weakly, voice laden with his shame.

Mydei sighed through his nose, closing his eyes in concentration for a few moments before he finally drew away, reluctantly releasing Phainon in favor of moving back further onto his bed.

At first, like he was wont to, Phainon assumed the worst—that this was a rejection—

But then Mydei made a show of removing his shirt, arms crossed, hands wrapping underneath the bottom hem to slowly draw it up over his bare torso. His muscles pulled taut, rolling and stretching beneath his skin with the movement as he raised it higher, up over his head, arms briefly stretched upwards in a way that shouldn't have been as sexy as it was. All the while, Phainon watched with rapt attention, the marigold of his pupils dominating the cerulean blue of his irises, betraying his desire when Mydei met his gaze again.

Without any barrier of fabric to obscure it, the intoxicating scent of his arousal was even stronger, now.

“You're drooling,” Mydei pointed out with a wry grin, “You should undress.”

Phainon didn't need to be told twice—all but tearing his shirt off over his head, before his hands fumbled at his belt—undoing it and pulling his jeans and underwear down in one swift motion. He didn't wait for an invitation before he clambered into Mydei's bed with him—far too excited to temper his own desire any longer. Desire he'd purposefully ignored for far, far too long.

Mydei spread his legs, and Phainon whimpered, the lion smiling almost coyly as he beckoned for him with a jerk of his head.

“I think you do,” Mydei murmured, “Know how. I think you know exactly what you want to do.”

He did, he recognized. He swallowed audibly when he looked up to meet Mydei's intense, heated gaze, his eyes soon falling lower, to the soft rise and fall of Mydei's prominent, soft chest, and then lower again, to where his cock sat half-hard, delicately curved against his abdomen. Balls heavy and full, the skin taut, and hairless—he was meticulously groomed, with only a small patch of strawberry blond hair laying just above the base of his cock.

Phainon could feel himself drooling, now, lips clamped shut as his dark eyes dared to trail lower—grazing over Mydei’s thick, plush thighs, his hands mapping the movement, to the junction of his thigh and groin, where the tendons were pulled taut. Further, to where his pink hole twitched, glistening with a clear, viscous fluid, the skin of his cheeks smeared with the same substance, and it made Phainon feel faint.

“I-is that—” he began, voice ragged and tight.

“You can answer that yourself.”

Phainon wasn't quite positive what he meant, but… he knew what he wanted to do.

And with Mydei's earlier invitation—with him actively encouraging Phainon to not think and to just act…

Phainon lowered himself onto the mattress between Mydei's thighs, taking pleasure in the slightly shocked expression he found on the Lion's face before Phainon closed his eyes and leaned in to press his lips against Mydei’s inner thigh.

Mydei's thighs jumped in his grasp when Phainon brought his hands up to caress them, mouthing along the tender, soft skin. The scent of Mydei's arousal was even more dizzying this close to his cock. Carefully, Phainon lapped at his skin, delighting in the gasp the action earned, before he nosed up further, between the crux of Mydei’s thighs, eagerly breathing in his scent as his tongue laved over the tender flesh just shy of his clenching entrance.

Phainon moaned at the first hint of that sweet, musky flavor spilling across his tongue—pulse pounding in his perked ears as he openly, eagerly lapped over Mydei's hole—he was leaking an almost obscene amount as he opened up beautifully for him. Mydei’s fingers laced through the roots of his hair—whether for Mydei to brace himself, or for the illusion of control, Phainon was neither certain nor particularly inclined to think any further on it.

Somewhere, distantly, Phainon was aware he was making far more noise than Mydei was. He whined and gasped into his hot skin—still, he eagerly drank in every gasp and groan he could make out, muffled beneath wet, slick sounds, and the way Mydei's thighs had closed around his head.

He licked into Mydei in quick, steady strokes, his thick, long tongue pressing deep inside of him, and stretching him open, nose pressed flush against his perineum as he eagerly ate him out. Long and dextrous and threatening Mydei’s sanity.

“Good,” Mydei managed to gasp—and it was just like him, not to stutter or fumble his words, to speak with clarity even as he trembled and shook apart beneath him, mindlessly rocking down against Phainon’s mouth. Mydei was so aroused it ached, cock hard and pulsing with need against his trembling belly. Phainon felt a gentle tug on his snowy hair, as if attempting to pull him away–

And he choked out a moan when the wolf locked his arms around his thighs and buried his face even deeper instead, tongue curling and lapping deep inside of his slick entrance, clenching spasmodically around the firm muscle.

Phainon could feel and taste it as Mydei came—a deep, elongated moan escaping the other man as his back arched off of the mattress, shaking, the muscles in his body contracting as hot slick spilled across Phainon's tongue. Thinner, and so copious that Phainon almost choked on it as he eagerly lapped up every drop of his subtly sweet essence while his cock spilled untouched across his abdomen.

He coaxed it out of Mydei—lapping and sucking messily until Mydei was complaining quietly with oversensitivity, trying to writhe away from the sensation of Phainon’s mouth on him.

Phainon finally relented, held back with just the firm grip on his moonlight hair, eyes bleary and face and neck flushed and soaked with his slick. It was all Mydei could do to groan, low and quiet, his head falling back against the mattress. Phainon finally released him without complaint as Phainon nosed up his abdomen and tentatively began lapping up his come, too, from where it had pooled on his firm stomach.

It felt… nice, Mydei recognized somewhere, with something deeply, intrinsically pleased by both the sensation and the display and what they could feasibly represent. Phainon grooming him, cleaning him with his hot, thick tongue…

Perhaps his arousal was a little too potent—no doubt influenced by the musk of Phainon's thick scent. Warm and masculine in a way that made him ache and clench with unimaginable want.

He had wanted—he had only his scent patches to thank for as to why Phainon hadn't caught on much, much sooner. The scent of his slick was undeniable, and if he'd smelled the way Mydei got wet for him whenever Phainon fought back against Mydei's overbearingness…

Mydei reckoned that this might have happened a lot, lot sooner. Still, he needed to be certain—he wouldn't have revealed or offered this vulnerability—this privilege—unless he knew he would be taken care of when he did.

As it happened, Mydei's intuition was right; Phainon was already proving himself to be an attentive, eager lover.

A low, rumbling, involuntary purr gradually built in his chest—startling him, his breath hitching—but continuing when he watched Phainon's tail speed up, wagging wildly behind him in appreciation of the audible queue.

“Your shirt,” Mydei mumbled, dizzy and high on endorphins. Careless in a way he almost never had the privilege to be. He hummed, pleased, when Phainon pressed his shirt into Mydei's hands. He could only watch with dark, hungry eyes as Mydei brought the rumpled fabric to his nose—audibly, visibly scenting it before slowly turning over onto his front, burying his face in Phainon's shirt as he rose up onto his knees, legs slightly splayed.

Phainon whimpered.

Mydei's strong tail swept across the back of his thighs in slow, contented movements, arching his back, and purposefully slowing its pace to offer Phainon teasing, fleeting glimpses of the slick, flushed skin between his spread cheeks.

Phainon wasn't dumb—not by a long shot. One didn't partly get in on a scholarship by being dumb—but he had to ask, if only for his own sanity. If only for his own feelings. His voice was low and strained as he spoke, breathing uneven, pupils blown and eyes glassy as Mydei peered up at him over his shoulder.

“A-are you… Presenting?” His voice came out much more stable than he would have thought, betraying nothing of his inner turmoil. Of just how nervous and ecstatic and scared he was of this—of somehow messing it all up. Of doing something wrong and making his inexperience even more blatant.

Mydei huffed, and Phainon could almost see the pleasant pink hue flushing his cheeks as he grumbled. “Yes,” He answered, swaying his hips a little, “But I won't be for much longer if you—hmm—” Mydei hummed, eyes widening first in surprise, and then lowering in lazy contentment as Phainon pressed himself flush against his back, his hard cock bumping messily in-between the softness of Mydei's inner thighs. He wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face in his hair, nosing at his twitching ears.

“Mydei…” Phainon whispered, breathing him in, “Why aren't… Why aren't you fighting me? You're always so…” He trailed off with a frown, “Domineering,” He continued, rutting in-between Mydei’s thighs with a hitched breath, his cock nudging against the underside of Mydei's, stiffening again between his splayed legs. “Are you going to try and tear my throat out when I let my guard down?”

The words seemed like they should have been a joke, yet Phainon sounded dead serious. His scent was pleasant, but his anxiety was still more than apparent, souring it slightly.

“Is that not what you wanted, Phainon?,” Mydei mumbled, continuing when Phainon made a perplexed noise in his throat. “Your scent always… changed, when I was being forward with you. It got heavier and deeper…” Mydei rolled his shoulder blades before stretching out, languid and cat-like underneath him, his arms stretched forward. He cast a silent, contemplative glance over his shoulder through his lidded eyes, “And part of me was hoping you'd finally snap.”

Phainon's responding noise sounded equally as wounded as it was mortified.

Beneath him, Mydei shrugged, “I liked it. I liked the little thrill. The risk. And the fact that you didn't let me push you around…” His voice once again dropped into a low purr, and Phainon inhaled shakily.

“I thought you hated me, Mydeimos—” Phainon whispered like a confession, and Mydei's lips pulled into a frown, eyebrows furrowing. At first, he concluded that some damage control needed to be done, but then—

Phainon's fingers tightened on Mydei’s hips, his touch bruising. “I thought you despised me, but… You were actually just hoping I'd get upset enough to snap?” Phainon's voice dropped to a low growl, and Mydei shuddered beneath him.

“Mhm,” Mydei acquiesced with a nod, smiling in an ingratiating manner that made Phainon feel hot all over.

“You're awful,” Phainon whispered, breath hitching when Mydei rocked his hips back against him.

“You're oblivious,” Mydei pointed out with a shrug, “But here I am, presenting myself to you, and you'd rather delay for a conversation.” He wet his lips, humming quietly, “Is this not enough recompense for my perceived slight?”

“You're insufferable,” Phainon bit back in turn, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Go on, then,” Mydei goaded, huffing, “Show me why I should regret it.”

“No…” Phainon whispered, and Mydei cracked an eye open, frowning. Phainon offered no further explanation, yet neglected to peel himself from Mydei's back—reaching down to line the tip of his leaking cock with Mydei's wet, clenching entrance. Slowly, he began to push inside, groaning from the tightness of Mydei's body around him, as the lion gasped, inner walls fluttering around the stretch of Phainon's thick cock.

“It’s not a punishment if you want it,” Phainon pointed out, voice adopting a strained quality to it that betrayed his affectedness—Mydei was deliciously tight around him, his back arching obscenely as he melted against the sheets, at first tightening around the intrusion, and then forcing himself to relax the best he could. Phainon groaned lowly as he sank deeper into him, eagerly palming at his waist and his hips as his eyes clenched shut in concentration.

“Instead…” He began, voice low, but far from composed, “I'm going to drag this out until you beg—and then… and then maybe you can feel at least a fraction of what you made me feel when I get to tell you no.”

Beneath him, voice tight, “Lions don't beg. Don't be ridiculous…” Mydei scoffed, set on maintaining his attitude even now, with Phainon nearly bottomed out inside of his pliant body. Wet and relaxed from his ministrations.

“Then I guess we'll be here for a while, Mydei.” Phainon huffed out a laugh, voice trembling—he wanted to sound mean. He wanted to sound confident and certain, to hold his ground—but Mydei did far more to him than he reckoned he'd ever be able to do to Mydei.

Either that, or the lion was just that much better at hiding it.

Mydei glanced at him from over his shoulder—eyes lidded, head cocked slightly, contemplative. Phainon sniffed, glaring when the tuft of fur at the end of Mydei's deceptively strong tail brushed just past his nose, prompting Phainon to grab it and roughly force it out of the way—a mistake, naturally, revealed only to him when he glanced down to where their bodies were joined.

Phainon choked at the sight.

Mydei's flushed entrance was wrapped snugly around the base of his cock—slick smeared against his skin, dripping down from where Phainon’s cock was plugging him and staining Mydei's sheets. The idea of Mydei being this aroused already… it made not caving nearly inconceivable, especially when Mydei wiggled his hips in a languid sway, before rocking back against him with a low, stifled groan.

“Phainon…” He murmured—Almost a plea. “Would you… please move?” He tried, doing well not to betray the embarrassment he might have felt, if any.

Phainon's attempted nonchalance had always been a rather fruitless endeavor. He whimpered, shuddering against Mydei, his cock pulsing inside of him as he drew back. The drag of his cock inside of him was delicious, slow and smooth, with Mydei's grip around him snug. Tightening when Phainon pulled out, like he subconsciously wanted to keep him buried deep inside of him.

“Just—” He whined, the wet slap of skin against skin sounding as he fucked back into him, Mydei's body swaying gently with the movement. “J-just like- hah- that?” Phainon sounded incredulous, voice high and breathy in a way that contrasted to the lower timber of Mydei's.

Mydei sighed through his nose, feigning a scowl, even as he rolled his hips back against Phainon with a soft growl, “you told me you wanted me to beg,” he rebutted, defensively, even as Phainon set a slow, steady pace.

“I-I didn't expect you to actually—” he began, cutting himself off with a moan when Mydei tightened around him.

It was achingly apparent where some of the confusion might have sprung from; Mydei was too direct, too literal, and Phainon was… well, Phainon thought he was normal, but perhaps avoidant and biased towards his preconceived ideas that Mydei was a stiff who hated his guts, was a much more apt descriptor.

“You don't make any sense,” Mydei huffed, knees spreading apart a little further as he arched his back for Phainon. “Do you see now where these misunderstandings might have started?”

Albeit reluctantly, Phainon offered him a nod.

Mydei gave a stilted sigh, “It… doesn't matter now…” He groaned, eyes lidded, “Just… move.”

Given that Mydei had already begged so prettily, and so willingly… Phainon didn't have much reason to deny him when he started demanding instead—if anything, he preferred it.

His concession was punctuated by slow, deep thrusts, dragging guttural moans and thin gasps from the both of them. Their combined noises joined the cacophony of noise, alongside the creaking of Mydei’s mattress: the sound of skin meeting skin, and the wet, slick sounds of Phainon fucking in and out of his tightness.

“Mydei–hah–” Phainon began, and Mydei braced himself with a pinched expression, anticipating that Phainon was about to say something nonsensical that Mydei would, in turn, stupidly humor, if only to avoid seeing that dejected, kicked-puppy expression he wore so well. “Mydei… You feel… You feel so good,” He whimpered, and… Mydei couldn’t help the low, rumbling sound that ignited in his chest: a deep, unmistakable purr.

“So tight—ah...” Phainon continued, swallowing dryly, his pace faltering, but only so he could adjust his stance, tightening his grip on Mydei’s hips to pull him more firmly into each thrust. “H-how… How are you so… Doesn’t this affect you too, Mydei?” He was rambling—each word making Mydei’s tail twitch, affected by the pitched, breathy sound of his voice.

It sounded good when Phainon whined for him—it stoked something deep and primal inside of him.

“Haikas…” Mydei mumbled, blindly reaching for Phainon’s hand to bring it down between his legs, near where they were connected, allowing him to feel how wet he was for him, with slick all but gushing down his splayed thighs.

“Don’t… Hmm… Don’t ask pointless questions,” He murmured, seemingly emboldened by the fact that he didn’t have to look Phainon in the eyes, “Even my body is affected by you…”

Quickly, Phainon regretted asking—a deep, reverberating growl rising from the bottom of his chest as his fingers pressed into the tender, heated skin between his legs, fingertips dragging over Mydei’s perineum and over his balls, and then along the length of his throbbing cock—weeping pathetically as it jerked between his legs with each movement of Phainon inside of him.

“M-Mydei–” Phainon whimpered, nosing into his sweaty hair and audibly breathing him in, Mydei’s ears flickering with the sound. “Mydei you smell so- so good–” It was, perhaps, a little too true—for the way it affected Phainon. For the way breathing in his scent and pheromones made him feel almost dizzy. Drunk on his own desire. On his own carnal need. His voice was a deep rumble against Mydei’s back, and the depth of his tone made Mydei’s toes curl. Teeth aching.

Phainon took him into his hand, pressing his torso flush against Mydei’s broad back and curling his opposite arm around his waist. Phainon pushed his face into Mydei’s neck with another growl, panting wantonly against his skin as he began fucking into him in earnest—harsh, punishing thrusts that rattled Mydei’s bedframe.

“K-keep talking–” Mydei wheezed, insides spasming around Phainon’s cock. He could feel his climax approaching rapidly, could feel the slow, deep build of it coiling tight inside of him. It was going to wreck him, he realized dimly—Phainon was going to ruin him for good.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Phainon, somehow, seemed to grow larger inside of him—the stretch seeming to change gradually, having adjusted to the initial girth of his cock—turning him into a sleeve just for Phainon to fit into and ruin. His eyebrows furrowed and he groaned, clenching experimentally.

“M-Mydei… Mydei–” Phainon panted, whined, fucking into him with abandon, with each deep, wet slap of their hips being followed by another in quick succession. “Can I… Hah.. Can I do it inside?”

Mydei’s scent seemed to flare, overwhelming Phainon’s senses, openly panting as he breathed him in with great, heaving inhales. Filling his head and lungs with the sweet, spiced smell speaking of his arousal and desire and need for… For only something Phainon could give him.

“If you don’t knot me…” Mydei threatened, voice quivering in a way that betrayed just how close he was, pairing well with how he dripped and jerked in Phainon’s tight fist. “I’ll need to find someone—hah!” Mydei found himself interrupted with a punishing squeeze and the bite of fangs at the junction of his neck and shoulder, Phainon muffling a growl into his skin.

Phainon needed no further incentive, his knot rapidly beginning to swell, being met with a gradual increase in resistance each time he bottomed out, until he had to fuck into Mydei hard to slip it in with how tight Mydei had become around him.

There was a long, agonizing moment where it almost felt like Phainon wouldn’t be able to force it back inside, encouraging Mydei to bear down as he rocked back into Phainon’s stuttered thrusts until finally, finally his knot slipped back inside of him with a sharp burn and an audible, slick pop.

Mydei’s back arched wantonly, his cry coming out somewhere between a moan and a yowl as he tightened around Phainon’s cock—it pulsed and twitching inside the tight, wet heat of his body as he came over Phainon’s fist, his entire body shaking, jerking beneath him, pinned in place solely by Phainon’s weight and the strength of his arms.

Phainon’s orgasm followed quickly afterwards, the spasmodic tightening of Mydei’s inner walls milking and coaxing his climax from him as he sobbed—pumping his hips uselessly, as if to bury himself even further inside Mydei’s ass. Wet, searing heat spilled deep inside of him, filling him with his seed, with Phainon hiccoughing and whimpering through the intensity of his climax, eyes threatening to roll back with the punishing tightness around his sensitive, swollen knot. Beneath him, Mydei quietly whined, the persistent throbbing of Phainon’s cock dragging out his own climax even when he had nothing left to spill.

Mydei slumped beneath him with a quiet groan. Phainon whimpered when his own hips were dragged down with the motion, anchored together by the burgeoning knot at the base of his cock that tugged on Mydei’s rim. Slowly, carefully, with his entire body trembling, Phainon gripped Mydei’s hips and pressed him flush into the mattress, body a warm, heavy weight blanketing his form for all of a few seconds before he rolled them onto their sides in a tangle of limbs—pressed so, impossibly close. He pushed his nose into Mydei’s hair, his pants for breath ruffling the strands as he struggled to regain control of his breathing—quiet, keening little things that tickled something inside Mydei’s brain while also serving to confuse his senses. Who was the predator here, really—or was it just that neither of them were effective prey?

“Mydei…” Phainon whispered, squeezing his waist, with Mydei grunting softly in acknowledgement, “Was I…” He started, pausing for a few seconds, as though unsure he wanted to carry out the question, but he shook his head and doubled down, “Was I good, Mydei?” He tried, voice almost pleading, tail wagging nervously behind him.

Mydei huffed and shook his head in silent disbelief.

Wordlessly, he reached for Phainon’s hand, dragging his broad palm to lay over the lowermost, part of his belly—slightly distended, with the length of Phainon’s cock and the sheer amount of cum he was pumping inside of him, and laced their fingers together as a quiet, purring sound resumed, his tail draping itself over Phainon’s hip to coil around his thigh possessively.

“You…” He began, voice a low rumble amidst the deep purring, “You were good,” He affirmed, without any flowery speech or teasing words, and he sighed when Phainon squeezed him even tighter, muffling a whimper into his hair. Fondly, Mydei shook his head once more, tracing silent patterns on the back of Phainon’s hand.

────────────

Castorice wordlessly slid a thick, nondescript book in Phainon’s direction, the cover suspiciously laid facedown. Phainon’s eyebrows furrowed, but he tentatively picked it up, eyes tracing over the embossed title for all of a few seconds before he finally registered what it said.

He abruptly dropped it with a startled gasp, as if he’d been burned.

Castorice sighed, and he swallowed dryly before carefully picking it back up, face and neck aflame, his ears pressed flush against his head. Oddly, Castorice didn’t seem to be looking at him, and maybe it was the fact that they were so many other scents around, but–

“What are you reading?” A low, familiar voice purred into his ear, and Phainon shuddered, lips pressing into a thin line as he sighed forlornly, accepting his fate with a slump of his shoulders.

He half expected Mydei to snatch the book from his hands and smack him over the head with it.

Instead, he read the title out loud—a little awkwardly. Mydei could read common perfectly well, but reading out loud was still a bit more of a struggle.

It was either that, or the content of the bold letters staring back at him—but his face betrayed nothing.

Great.

“The Mating Rites & Estrus of the Feline Thiren,” Mydei enunciated slowly, eyes narrowing for a reason Phainon understood enough to panic over.

“It’s not—It’s not what it looks–” He hurriedly began, sending Castorice a pleading look that went ignored.

Traitorously, Castorice giggled.

“Is this a subject that interests you?” Mydei asked, tone devoid of… Anything that Phainon could cling onto—the intensity of his gaze making him feel hot all over.

Phainon felt like he could finally breathe when Mydei’s eyes left him—seemingly looking towards Castorice, with nothing more than a slight twitch of his brows.

“Wait. Mydei—not–” He gasped, the drag of his chair far too loud, even amidst the of ambient noise surrounding them. A heavy, familiar weight settled in his lap, face inches from his own as Mydei slid his arms over Phainon’s shoulders.

“Have you been trying to get me pregnant, Phainon?”

In his ears, Phainon’s pulse roared—throat unbearably dry, mouth working wordlessly, and eyes widened in disbelief. Mydei’s words had been spoken loudly and purposefully. Despite this, Phainon’s tail was a blur behind him, wagging so hard his body wiggled with the momentum.

A pitched squeal and the scraping of a chair grabbed his attention. Phainon’s eyes flickered over to where Castorice was hurriedly gathering her things and making to leave, pale cheeks flushed red as she attempted to hide behind her own novel, mumbling some halfhearted excuse that Phainon didn’t quite catch. While he doubted the words in themselves had served to faze her, he could reasonably infer that the fact that the trio had suddenly drawn the attention of others with those words was what had sent her running.

Mydei snorted, leaning back some with a self-satisfied expression on his face, and Phainon started to relax, if only marginally.

“Only I get to find your embarrassment amusing,” He supplied, squeezing Phainon’s shoulders before shifting backwards to slide off of his lap.

Hands gripping his waist halted his movement, and Mydei made pause, suspicious, narrowed eyes falling upon Phainon once more.

“I—You didn’t give me a chance to answer you,” Phainon managed, voice thick, pupils wide, and cheeks flushed.

“I didn’t,” Mydei agreed, tilting his head a little, eyebrows furrowing adorably.

Lidded, icy blues blinked up at him, the wolf resting his chin on Mydei’s chest as he looked up at him, a weaponized pout on his soft face.

Mydei touched a clawed finger to Phainon’s pursed lips, wearing an expression of warning.

“Because if you tell me your answer here… We’ll both be permanently removed from this school, Phainon.”

Ah.

The familiar, more subtle scent of Mydei’s arousal made him shudder with want—his scent patches were still plenty effective, but ever since they’d started having sex, Phainon was able to detect the more subtle, nuanced changes in Mydei’s scent he hadn’t been privy to before. Being with Mydei was like… Learning a completely different language he could only long to know intimately.

“I’ll ask you again later,” He promised, something akin to a smirk on his lips, “That gives you time to think carefully about your answer.”

“Mydei…” Phainon groaned, shifting beneath him, but he relented easily when Mydei made to climb off his lap—not before pressing a chaste kiss to Phainon’s jaw and pressing the book back into his hands, pointedly, his tail slowly swaying behind him, the tip nearly hitting Phainon in the face when he turned to leave.

What would wolf-lion thirens even look like?

Did Male thirens even go into heat?

Phainon hesitated one last time before tugging the book open to its first page.