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It had been a desperately horrible day.

Edgeworth threw his briefcase into the dining room, too angry to feel the slightest bit of remorse for any damage he may have caused to it or his antique chairs. He'd never been so humiliated. Of course, the judge was an imbecile for letting it happen, but never before had he been so furious over the outcome of a trial.

It really didn't help that the source of his frustrations was standing in his living room with a bag of take-out and a cute but dumb expression.

And it really, really didn't help that all Edgeworth could think about doing, for some reason, was throwing him over the couch and fucking him senseless.

"I wanted to apologize," Phoenix probably planned to say, but he didn't get to the sixth syllable before Edgeworth was on him. He barely had the presence of mind to drop his kung pao chicken onto the table as the other man backed him up against the loveseat.

He grabbed Phoenix by the tie, pulling him close by it. "Go to my bedroom," he hissed, and Phoenix very nearly fell over the sofa in his hurry to obey.

By the time Edgeworth made it to the bedroom, Phoenix had already divested himself of his shirt, shoes, and socks (throwing them, Edgeworth noted with distaste, haphazardly across his desk). "Leave it," he spat out as Phoenix started in on the fly of his pants. He flicked his gaze downward significantly; Phoenix didn't miss it, his own eyes widening briefly in a look of shock. Edgeworth wasn't particularly surprised, considering how terrifically polite he usually was, but polite definitely wasn't one of the many things he was feeling right at the moment.

Phoenix sank to his knees in front of him, undoing his belt buckle with quick fingers and pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles. Edgeworth let out a groan as Phoenix took him into his mouth, his tongue working against the underside of his shaft in a way that felt criminally good. For once, he didn't try to restrain himself from bucking his hips, pushing himself farther into Phoenix's mouth, one hand resting on the back of his head.

All too soon, he felt himself starting to lose control. Reluctantly, he pulled himself away from Phoenix, who made the slightest whimpering noise. "Take your pants off and get on the bed," he ordered, and Phoenix complied as quickly as he could.

Edgeworth walked to the nightstand, retrieving the bottle of Astroglide before climbing onto the bed. Phoenix's face was caught somewhere between complete confusion and intense arousal. He held his knees together in a surprisingly innocent pose, and Edgeworth took surprising satisfaction in pushing them open, bearing him down with the weight of his body. He took advantage of the position to grind himself into Phoenix, whose mouth dropped open at the sensation.

That was all the encouragement Edgeworth needed, assuming he actually needed any at all. He slicked them both thoroughly with the lubricant, tossing the bottle away. Without further prelude, he pushed the head of his cock into Phoenix, barely entering him before pulling out, only to slam in again. Phoenix made little sounds of protest and encouragement, pushing down on him as best he could.

Edgeworth began really fucking him then, driving in over and over again. He leaned down close, catching Phoenix's gasping lips with his own, kissing him so hard he could feel his own lips start to bruise. Phoenix slipped his hand between their bodies, stroking himself feverishly, cursing and panting out little pieces of words when Edgeworth finally pulled his lips away.

With a final nonsensical cry, Phoenix came, clenching and writhing under him. It was more than he could take, and he spent himself, collapsing in a messy heap next to Phoenix.

They lay in silence for what seemed to Edgeworth to be an eternity. All of his anger seemed to dissipate as soon as he was finished, only to be replaced with a sinking feeling of remorse.

"I-I'm sorry," he managed to say after some minutes.

Phoenix propped himself up on one elbow, studying him. "Sorry about what?"

Evidently, Wright wanted to torture him, but Edgeworth considered that he probably deserved it. "I had no right to," he choked on the words, "use you like that."

Phoenix looked vaguely crestfallen. "You mean this wasn't my present for winning the trial?"

Edgeworth blinked. "What?"

"I thought you figured out that I wanted you to, uh," Phoenix blushed, "maybe slap me around a little."

He blinked, trying process one thing at a time. "Wright, why would I give you a present for winning when you beat me?"

"It did sound a little stupid when I said it out loud."

He shook his head, moving on. "Why didn't you say that you wanted me to-"

"Well, it's not really something you can bring up in casual conversation," Phoenix blurted.

They passed another few minutes in silence.

"So," Edgeworth began, uncertainly, "I didn't hurt you or scare you, did I?"

"Of course not," Phoenix practically gushed. "God, I almost came in my pants."

Yet another slightly awkward silence.

"Dinner's probably getting cold," Edgeworth said, finally.

"Let's go eat," Phoenix replied.

Maybe it was a good day after all.