Work Text:
The only sounds that can be heard inside the room were the creaking of the bed and moaning of the man Phainon had just met.
He had the man bent double over the edge of the bed, the man's spine arched in a precarious curve as Phainon drove himself forward. Every thrust was just him molding the man’s hole with his shaft.
The man beneath him was a wreck, far from the composed and arrogant man he was negotiating with earlier. His voice was a series of broken, high-pitched moans, and his words dissolved into incoherent whimpers as Phainon hammered into him. He tried to speak at the height of his pleasure, perhaps to give up the secrets Phainon was ostensibly hunting for, but the sheer intensity of the friction left him breathless, his mind engulfed with nothing but ecstacy.
Phainon didn't care much about the information—well to a certain extent. He had told himself that this connection into the web of elites was a mere necessity, but as he felt the heat of the man's walls gripping his shaft, the truth became rather simpler: he needs this fuck.
Sweat slicked Phainon's muscular back, droplets tracing the lines of his spine before splashing onto the man's trembling thighs, as strands of damp hair clung to his forehead. He didn't know how long they had been at this, not like even cared to count the time.
The man, lost in the delirium of the act, reached onto him blindly. He grasped at Phainon’s arms, pulling him closer, his lips parting in a desperate attempt to kiss him, to find some shred of intimacy in the heat of the moment.
Phainon’s reaction was instantaneous and cruel.
His hand shot forward, fingers snaking around the man’s collar and shifting upward to clamp firmly around his throat. He slammed the man’s face back down into the mattress, pinning him with unrelenting force.
“Keep your filthy lips to yourself,” Phainon snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp.
The man’s sudden restriction of air didn't stop Phainon from fucking him though; it only rather fueled his aggression.
Feeling the pressure build in his loins, Phainon began to thrust faster, his movements turned sloppier, chasing the height of ecstasy, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.
But his grip on the man's neck tightened, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed the life out of the throat beneath him.
He was blinded by his own pleasure, the world narrowing down to the friction of his cock and the urge to destroy the man's windpipe.
He didn't notice when the moans turned into wet, gurgling gasps. He didn't feel the frantic, weak scratching of nails against his forearms as the man began to squirm, his body convulsing in a fight for oxygen.
Phainon only felt the explosion. With a guttural roar, he drove himself in one last time, burying his length to the hilt, pumping a hot, thick torrent of cum deep inside the man’s hole.
As he came, the writhing man beneath him abruptly stopped, the scratching ceased, the man’s body went limp, the muscles that had been gripping Phainon’s cock suddenly relaxing into a slack, lifeless flesh.
Phainon remained there for a moment, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
He slowly released his grip on the man’s throat, his hand sliding away from the now-purpled skin.
He couldn’t forget the man’s condescending words. “The Prince of Castrum Kremnos? He has nothing but a lousy title after the destruction of his kingdom. I wouldn’t want to invest in him.”
Phainon slumped beside the body, the silence of the room returning. He lay there in the aftermath, the cooling corpse of his plaything resting beside him, and the only sound he can hear is rhythmic thumping of his own heart.
Then his phone started ringing.
Phainon took a few breaths before he answered it, he did not look at the caller ID. The voice of Krateros came through the line immediately.
“Where are you? The meeting has been cancelled, and he will arrive in fifteen minutes.”
Phainon’s eyes widened as he processed the words. “What?” he asked, but he did not wait for a reply. He ended the call at once, then stood up from the bed with urgency. He moved quickly as he gathered his clothes, dressing without hesitation and without care for anything else in the room.
Within moments, he was already walking down the hallway. A gun was secured on his thigh, and his pace was steady and controlled despite the excitement building inside him.
As he turned a corner, an agent stepped into his path. The man immediately straightened when he saw him, but Phainon only offered a small smile.
“Sir, the embers have settled,” the agent reported.
It was a code phrase that meant the Prince had arrived in the country.
Phainon gave a short nod in acknowledgment and continued walking. He made his way directly to his car, and the moment he got in, the driver already understood to move.
Outside, he remained composed, but inside, his heart was beating faster than it should have been. A thin layer of sweat formed at his temples, and he found it increasingly difficult to maintain his usual restraint. Despite everything he had restrained himself to be, he could not stop the faint curve forming at the edge of his lips.
He is here.
Mydei.
The name repeated in his mind with a force that drowned out everything else. Years of distance and silence suddenly felt meaningless, as if they had never truly existed in the first place. The only thing that mattered now was the certainty that Mydei had returned.
When the manor finally came into view, Phainon did not wait for the car to come to a full stop. He stepped out immediately as soon as it slowed, and he moved forward with contained excitement, entering the grounds as though he had never left them.
No one tried to stop him, and no one questioned his presence, because despite Phainon not owning the place, everyone else in there knew he was the one who built it for his prince.
The manor felt unchanged, and that familiarity only made everything more surreal. Every hallway and every turn felt like it was pulling him backward into memory while still pushing him forward into reality. He did not slow down at any point. He walked straight through it all until he reached the pavilion he had once specifically requested for Mydei.
That was where he expected to find him alone.
Instead, there was another man standing too close to Mydei as he was seated on a chair, in front of them was a table. The stranger looked rather composed and confident, speaking in a way that suggested some close connection between them.
When did he permit his prince to bring his whores into his manor?
The sight of him was enough to trigger something inside Phainon immediately.
Phainon did not pause to understand whatever the relationship before him. His hand moved first, and the gun was in his grip within seconds. He raised it and pointed it directly between the man’s eyes before anyone could react.
The entire pavilion went silent at once.
The man froze upon noticing him and slowly lifted his hands, his confidence collapsing into visible fear as he realized what was happening.
Mydei’s voice cut through the tension, he’s rather used to Phainon’s tyranny at this point. “Phainon, put that down. He’s the son of my former security.”
Phainon turned his gaze toward him at those words, but he did not lower the weapon immediately. His expression remained controlled, yet there was an edge to it that did not soften even at his prince’s command.
The fact that Mydei was defending the stranger irritated him more than the situation itself.
Still, he did not fire. He had never intended to spill blood in this pavilion, and he was not about to start now.
After a moment of silence, he lowered the gun and secured it back in its holster.
He ignored everyone else in the pavilion and began walking forward. His focus narrowed completely until only Mydei remained in his view.
He stopped directly in front of him, and only then did he realize how long it had been since he had last seen that face.
Phainon narrowed his eyes, a playful, predatory smile curving his lips as he looked at Mydei. “Did you miss me?” he purred, closing the distance between them with a slow, deliberate stride. “I didn’t follow you home this time. Shouldn’t I be getting a reward for being such a good boy and staying still, hmm?”
Mydei remained motionless, his gaze heavy, entirely accustomed to Phainon’s wild, erratic nature. “You’re rather chatty today, my love,” Mydei remarked, his voice a low rumble.
The endearment snapped something inside Phainon.
In a blur of motion, he launched himself forward, straddling Mydei’s lap and devouring his mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss.
Phainon’s body was radiating heat not long gone from his sexual endeavors earlier. He pulled back just an inch, glancing up through his lashes with parted lips and a flirtatious glint in his eyes. “Did you become celibate without me?” Phainon giggled, the sound vibrating against Mydei’s skin as he descended to whisper directly into his ear. He reached down, grabbing Mydei’s hand and guiding it firmly against his own stomach, pressing the prince's palm against his heat. “This hole aches for its master—”
Phainon never got to finish the sentence. In one swift, violent motion, Mydei manhandled him, flipping him over and slamming him face-down onto the table. The impact knocked the breath out of him, leaving his ass arched and prompted, offered up like a sacrifice for his prince to feast upon.
Mydei’s hand clamped down hard on the nape of his neck, pinning him to the table and preventing any hope of escape.
Phainon could only watch him out of the periphery of his vision, his chest heaving. “My, my... who taught you to be this rough? Perhaps letting you roam may have been a poor judgment—”
Again, the words were cut short. Mydei didn't waste time with pleasantries; he reached down and yanked Phainon’s trousers down in one rough tug.
Without a word of warning, without a drop of lube or a moment of preparation, Mydei’s thick cock slammed home, pouncing deep inside him.
Phainon let out a strangled curse, his body jolting at the sudden friction.
It had been years since he had been penetrated, and because he only ever bottomed for this man, the sheer violence of the fucker’s entry sent him spiraling into a dark, visceral ecstasy.
But his prince had never been this rough, who taught him this?
Phainon groaned loudly, tears forming at the corner of his eyes, his voice breaking as he felt his tight hole stretch and mold around its rightful defiler.
His breath hitched, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as Mydei’s cock tore into him.
The lack of foreplay sobered him up real quick, and the dry friction of the initial thrust sent a shockwave of hot pain and searing pleasure straight to his brain.
It’s not like he hates rough fucks, but getting it from someone who couldn’t even fuck his mouth raw is definitely an unsettling experience.
Phainon slammed his palms flat against the cold surface of the table, scouring the edges to grip himself steady, his fingers clawing at the wood as his body instinctively tried to recoil as the man continued to ram his cock inside him.
"Fuck!" Phainon hissed, his voice cracking. The sensation was overwhelming; it was raw and punishing that made his toes curl and his spine arch.
Mydei didn't even give him a second to adjust. Each of his thrust feels like a heavy blow, the sound of their skin colliding like a wet slap.
Phainon let out a guttural moan, his head lolling to the side.
He could see Mydei in his peripheral vision—the prince’s expression of cold, focused hunger. He felt proud for making him feel that way.
Phainon's laugh came out breathless, raw, cut short by the way Mydei's cock shoved deeper into him at the motion.
The guards stood at the edge of the pavilion—distant silhouettes in crisp uniforms, eyes trained on the canopy above them, pretending they couldn't hear the wet sounds or the broken moans.
But they knew. Of course.
This wasn’t their first rodeo.
Mydei's hand stayed clamped on Phainon's waist, fingers pressing bruises into his skin, as the table creaked beneath them, "Were you the one who's behind my Advisor's disappearance?" His voice was calm, as if cautious not to rile up an aggressive kid.
But such questioning is a deliberate echo of tactics Phainon himself had used before. He's trying to play his game.
Cute, daring even, but nonetheless cute.
Phainon laughed, the sound dissolving into a moan as Mydei's hips snapped forward. He didn't answer, he didn't give him the satisfaction. He just rolled his hips back, meeting each thrust with a push of his own, letting the table legs scrape against the stone floor.
Mydei's patience snapped. He grabbed Phainon by the arms, hauling him upright in one rough motion.
Phainon's back hit Mydei's chest, their bodies flush, sweat slicking skin against skin. The thrusting stopped and the sudden stillness felt louder than the pounding before.
Mydei's voice was low, pressed against his ear. "Answer me."
Phainon raised an eyebrow. He twisted his head to look over his shoulder, meeting Mydei's narrowed eyes. "Do you want me to bounce on you instead?"
Mydei's frown deepened. His grip tightened on Phainon's arms, ready to pull him closer, but Phainon moved first.
He pushed off the table, rising on his knees. Mydei's cock slipped out of him momentarily. For one suspended second, there was nothing but Mydei's desperate grab at his waist.
Then Phainon sank back down on his lap, but now facing him.
His view was perfect.
He bit his lip, before sliding Mydei's cock deep inside him, while Mydei's hands locked onto his waist immediately.
“He still needs to face a trial. Where did you take him?”
Phainon smirked, before cupping his cheek. His thumb traced the sharp line of Mydei's jaw, smearing sweat over stubbled skin. He started to bounce, slow at first, rising until only the tip remained inside before dropping back down with a wet slap. "Which part of him do you want to see first?” His eyes went predatory, but amused.
Mydei's hands trembled against his waist. "Stop taking these matters into your own hands. We have a proper way to punish him if he is indeed guilty—"
Phainon shushed him with a kiss.
It was rather brutal.
He twisted in Mydei's grip, one hand sliding into the latter’s hair, yanking his head forward until their mouths crashed together.
Phainon bit his lower lip, drawing blood, then soothed it with a slow lick.
Mydei groaned into his mouth, hands sliding up his back.
When Phainon pulled away, his lips were red and swollen. He pouted—an exaggerated, mocking expression that made Mydei's brows furrowed.
"I'm bored. Why don't you continue fucking me in this lovely pavilion? You don't want me to clean your entire court now, do you, Your Highness?"
Mydei narrowed his eyes, met with a gaze of the man who never hesitated to sully his hands for him.