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“… A gift?”
Miles arches a brow as he looks down at the slim black box in his hands, then up at Phoenix’s face, then back down at the box. When Phoenix had asked to come over on the weekend to hand him a gift, Miles wasn’t sure what to expect. Phoenix was never the best at gift giving and Miles couldn’t say he ever held it against him. Breakfast in bed and stargazing on his balcony with a shared bottle of wine was always just as good—if not better than any rings or expensive cologne. Phoenix is generous in his own way that only makes Miles fall even more head over heels for him.
All generosity aside, Miles can’t say he knows what would warrant a gift because he certainly hadn’t gotten Phoenix anything. He runs down the list of anniversaries, birthdays, holidays and mundane things like ‘the day we first met in court’ and ‘the day we first held hands,’ which Phoenix is so adamant on celebrating, much to Miles’ embarrassment.
“Yeah, are you gonna open it?”
Phoenix has a grin on his face that stretches from ear to ear. It only makes Miles wary and hesitant as his thumb drags over the top of the box. Knowing Phoenix, he’s bracing himself for a faceful of glitter or pepper and he’s already thinking of ways to give him hell.
“What are we celebrating today?”
“What?! You don’t know?!”
The way Phoenix pouts both makes Miles’ heart melt and a brow twitch in irritation.
“No.” Miles shakes his head as Phoenix’s hands perch on his own hips. It’s a display that’s better suited for the courtroom, not his bedroom in the middle of the night.
“I’ll tell you later. Just open the damn box already.”
Miles sighs as he holds the box at arms length in a dramatic display of just how wary he is when it comes to Phoenix’s pranks and immature jokes. He lifts the top of the box while holding his breath. There’s no glitter, no pepper, nothing alarming. Bringing the box back to him, Miles blinks as he looks at its contents.
It’s a tie. A red one identical to the one Phoenix is rarely seen without.
“I don’t wear ties.” It’s less ingratitude and more confusion. A cravat ought to make more sense. With his eyes narrowed, Miles lifts the tie out of the box, sliding his fingers over the silk. “Also,” Miles frowns, showing Phoenix the end of the tie where there’s undoubtedly a poorly treated coffee stain. “This is worn.”
“Excellent deduction, Mr. Edgeworth, I should have known I could never get one over you.” Phoenix laughs and Miles grumbles under his breath. He’s still turning the tie over in his hand when Phoenix strides forward and perches his hands on Miles’ waist. “Are you saying you don’t like it?”
“No.”
“You look like you don’t like it.”
“I’m just a little confused.”
“About what?”
“Would you like me to make a list, Wright?”
Phoenix takes the other end of the tie in Miles’ hand—the slimmer end that he winds around a few of his fingers before letting it fall limp again.
“Why do you think I got you it?”
“You’ve run out of gift giving ideas.”
“Awh, come on, don’t be like that.”
“You don’t like my cravat.”
“No! I think it’s cute.”
‘Cute.’ He rolls his eyes, ignoring how his cheeks warm and his gaze darts to the side.
“Tell me, then.”
“Can I show you instead?”
Miles doesn’t have a chance to so much as nod before Phoenix is walking him backwards to his bed. His brow arches when the back of his thighs press to the mattress, but he can’t say he hates where this is going. After setting the tie and gift box aside, he occupies his hands by smoothing them over Phoenix’s chest, fingers already fumbling with the buttons at his collar. He didn’t bother with a suit jacket and tie when he was simply playing Miles’ home a visit, though Miles is fully dressed in his day-to-day attire.
With Phoenix’s shirt undone, Miles pushes the offending article of clothing off of his shoulders. In turn Phoenix briskly takes off his cravat and slides his blazer off. Undressing one another should be a hassle, but when Phoenix is leaning in for a kiss that Miles is quick to reciprocate, it doesn’t have to be done hastily.
He’s kissed him hundreds of times, but Miles still feels that flutter in his chest. In an instant, he returns the gesture, pressing firmly and dragging his teeth over Phoenix’s lower lip. His arms wrap around Phoenix’s neck, pulling him in while he’s pushed down onto the bed at the same time. As Phoenix crawls over him, he trails his lips from the corner of Miles’ mouth down, down the side of his neck to his shoulder. It has Miles shivering and dragging his nails lightly over the back of his neck.
“Are you going to show me what that gift was for?” Miles murmurs as Phoenix starts slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
“You haven’t put it together yet?”
“Ah, no..?”
Miles swallows thickly while Phoenix snorts a laugh. He doesn’t have a chance to discard his own shirt before Phoenix is pushing him further up on the bed with his head propped against a pillow. It doesn’t matter how many times he sees it, watching Phoenix hovering over him, half undressed and looking at him like he’s the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen has Miles practically melting into the sheets.
Phoenix kisses down Miles’ chest, each press of his lips feeling like a spark of electricity. He has to chew on his lower lip to muffle any sighs or stupid comments about how he hates the way Phoenix makes him so damn compliant when they’re normally at one another’s throat. Once he reaches the waistband of his slacks, Miles holds his breath, one hand finding the tie that had just been gifted to him. His fingers tangle in the fabric and he picks his hips up as Phoenix unfastens and tugs down his pants.
Just as he’s expecting Phoenix to dart back up and kiss him on the lips again, teeth latch onto his inner thigh. His head falls back with a sharp inhale and Miles darts one hand to the back of Phoenix’s head to grab a fistful of hair.
“Careful.” Miles hisses, feeling the way the corners of Phoenix’s lips quirk up into a smile. His head tips down just in time to watch blunt teeth dig into the soft flesh of his thigh again, bearing down and making Miles tense and ball the tie up in his hand.
Phoenix disregards the request, instead biting down harder, sucking and leaving a red and purple bruise behind. He’s proud of his work and he can’t help but admire the blemish on otherwise flawless, porcelain skin.
With his chest rising and falling heavily, Miles pulls harder on Phoenix’s hair, expecting him to leave one bite after another all over his thighs. Much to his surprise, he picks himself up, one hand fumbling with his own pants. The sight alone has Miles eager and his thighs threatening to press shut to try and find some friction where he needs it. Phoenix keeps his legs apart, though, with his thumb pressed firmly against the fresh bite he left behind. It’s dizzying and the dull ache makes him twitch in the confines of his boxer briefs.
“’Careful’ is boring and you know it.” Phoenix teases, finally getting his pants nudged down to mid thigh. Miles huffs.
All irritation aside, Miles reaches up to cup Phoenix’s jaw and pull him down for a gentle kiss. It’s sweet and tender—or rather, it would be if it weren’t broken by Phoenix quickly pulling away to grab his wrists and pry his hands off of his face.
Miles blinks, baffled as Phoenix stretches his arms over his head.
“I—what are you doing?”
For once Phoenix has nothing snarky to say. Instead he concentrates on winding the red tie around Miles’ wrists. It takes longer than he would like to admit before Miles realizes just what he’s doing. Once the realization sets in, his face burns and turns a shade of red to rival the very tie holding his wrists together. What isn’t wound around his wrists is tied to the bars of his headboard, leaving Miles feeling far too much like he’s on display for a certain defense attorney.
“You always look so good in red, Miles.” Phoenix murmurs as he makes sure he can slide two digits under the tie before leaning up and pressing a kiss to each of his wrists. Miles contemplates kneeing Phoenix in the stomach for simultaneously being so excruciatingly cheesy and making his heart skip a beat.
Phoenix looks down with a smirk that makes Miles’ breath catch in the back of his throat. With one more kiss, he finishes undressing Miles, leaving him bare aside from the bright red tie around his wrists. His hands then trail over his chest, as if he hasn’t committed every dip and curve of Miles’ body to memory dozens of times over.
“Are you comfortable?”
“What kind of question is that, Wright?”
“I mean, it doesn’t hurt or anything, does it?”
“What do you think?”
Sitting back to admire his work, Phoenix can’t help but grin all over again. Miles is flushed red, sweat trickling down from his temple with his body stretched taut and his arms over his head. He could sit and stare at him all day, but his own erection is practically begging him to keep things going.
“I think… you look good.” Phoenix concludes as Miles narrows his eyes at him. “And I think you’re more than a little comfortable.” He concludes, dragging the pad of one finger along the underside of Miles’ cock, from base to tip with the other tipping his head back, jaw clenched tight to muffle the swear that threatens to slip his tongue.
“Right.” Miles flutters his eyes shut for a second to regain his composure. In the meantime Phoenix pushes his boxers down before tossing them, as well as his pants, to the side.
Phoenix reaches past Miles to fumble around the inside of the drawer of Miles’ bedside table. He’s gone rummaging through it more times than he could count, but he still struggles to find what he’s looking for without getting up and seeing what he’s digging through. With a frustrated grumble, he wraps his fingers around the bottle he’s looking for before comfortably situating himself back between Miles’ knees.
“I would have helped you there, but I’m a bit tied up right now.” Miles comments far too flatly pointedly.
“Very funny. You’re a real jokester for someone about to get fucked.”
“How is that a qualifier?”
“’Cause you and I both know you’re not gonna be cracking jokes in a hot minute.”
Miles turns his head to the side with an irritated grumble, hearing Phoenix’s smug laugh before the sound of him cracking open the bottle of lubricant and spreading it over his fingers. For someone who looks so damn eager, he’s certainly taking his time and making sure he’s comfortable and fully prepared every step of the way. It’s endearing and only serves to remind Miles why and how he fell so hard for Phoenix.
He looks back down when he feels Phoenix’s cock against the back of his thigh. He’s so hard that Miles would pity him if his face didn’t look as though he was having the time of his life.
Miles tenses as he feels a hand slide between his thighs, only for Phoenix’s other hand palms over his thigh to soothe him. One finger sinks in, making Miles grimace. The second is more substantial and has his breaths quicken, and the third has Miles struggling to keep his hips still while he swallows down moans. He’s bright red, hands tugging at the tie around his wrists while Phoenix slowly starts moving his digits.
“Ah… Wow.” Phoenix exhales as his eyes fixate on Miles, honing in on every little change in expression. His fingers press in and out, prodding deep and crooking inside of him until Miles arches his back and stifles a short, stilted moan. “There?”
Miles nods.
With a grin, Phoenix presses his fingers in with more purpose, pushing in deep and thrusting them in and out while making sure to nudge his fingertips against that same spot relentlessly. Miles had long since given up on trying to be silent, instead gasping and exhaling shaky breaths with his eyes shut. The way he rocks his hips back against him alone is enough to tempt Phoenix into yanking his fingers out and fucking Miles right then and there.
But he doesn’t, and Phoenix holds onto some semblance of self-control as he thrusts his fingers in and out. The way Miles squirms, pulling on the tie in feeble attempts to cover the redness spreading over his face or to clamp a hand over his mouth to muffle his moans; all of it is more than Phoenix could have asked for.
Phoenix knows he’s getting carried away, now leaning over Miles to kiss along his neck while nudging Miles’ knee towards his chest with his free hand. The other continues thrusting his fingers in and out, dragging out the motion until he hears a higher-pitched hitch in Miles’ breath. It’s so damn cute, Phoenix can’t help but feel a little smug knowing that he’s the only one who knows what Miles sounds like in the bedroom.
“Wait—“ Miles chokes out after a moment, his head tossing from side to side so Phoenix pulls away from the trail of hickeys he had started along his jugular.
“Huh?”
“Wait…”
Each breath is labored and Miles digs his nails into the palms of his hands. Phoenix does a stupidly good job of making him feel good, almost to a point where it’s unbearable—like now, when he’s positive that if he keeps going, he’s going to end up finishing before Phoenix even starts. His thighs are quivering and he can’t help but drool from the corner of his lips when he can’t wipe at his mouth with his arms tied up.
“You’re close already?”
“And who’s to blame for that?”
Phoenix looks down between their bodies—particularly at Miles’ cock, laying hard against his stomach and drooling precum onto his abdomen and down his side. He’s a mess—a far cry from the prim and proper Miles Edgeworth he’s stood across in court on more than one occasion.
Miles can tell that Phoenix is taking his sweet time considering whether or not he should spend the rest of the evening fucking him with his fingers until he’s reduced to a warbling mess on his sheets, or if he should indulge and finally find some of that much-needed friction for himself. Unsurprisingly enough, Phoenix goes with the latter, pulling his fingers out and leaving Miles to try and catch his breath.
“You look incredible.” Phoenix breathes out. Miles is hardly convinced when he knows he’s a sweaty mess on the sheets, his hair mussed and his wrists starting to bruise from how hard he’s yanking on the makeshift cuffs. Still, Phoenix looks at him like he’s captivating. Miles knows better than to take that look for granted.
After redistributing the remaining lubricant over his cock, Phoenix properly lines himself up against Miles, one hand holding his thigh while the other grasps the base of his length as he presses in slowly. Miles can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut, his toes curling and his thighs quivering. It doesn’t hurt—it never hurts with Phoenix, though it is always a little overwhelming when he first presses in. It’s a tight stretch, but even if it did hurt, hearing Phoenix’s breaths quicken and watching every muscle in his body go taut would make the pain worthwhile. Miles chews on his lower lip, beyond desperate to smooth his palms over Phoenix’s chest and scratch down his back. With his hands tied up, though, all he can do his ball his hands into fists and exhale a frustrated whine.
It’s when Phoenix starts moving that Miles takes any semblance of composure that he had remaining and tosses it all out the window. As Phoenix draws out, he exhales shakily, and when he pushes back in he chokes out a gasp, a moan or a swear. He rocks his hips back down to meet Phoenix with each thrust, making sure he pushes in to the hilt and grinds firmly against him before he has a chance to pull out. The pace starts slow and sweet, but once both of Phoenix’s hands grasp Miles’ hips, it becomes hastier, like Phoenix is desperate to catch up with him in terms of how close he is to an orgasm.
Miles can find some comfort in the fact that Phoenix is just as vocal, grunting and moaning when he squeezes down around him. Their lips crash together between thrusts, teeth clacking with too much tongue, only for the kiss to stutter with gasps of pleasure. Eventually Phoenix gives up on trying to taste every last one of Miles’ moans, instead nudging their foreheads together to the best of his ability when each thrust is still shoving the other up against the bed.
“Tell me when…” Phoenix starts, but Miles is far more focused on how he’s pounding into him and how every thrust hits just the right spot that makes him see stars. “Tell me when you’re close.”
Miles gives him his best attempt at a nod instead of blurting out that he’s pretty damn close already. Phoenix quickens the pace to edge him along, the sound of skin against skin drowning out any noise that Miles let slip. With every thrust he almost draws out entirely before bucking forward and to the hilt. His hands find their way to the back of Miles’ knees, pushing them closer to his chest. Miles would be flustered, but now isn’t the time to get embarrassed by how open he feels or to admire how strong Phoenix’s hands are.
“Close…“ Miles chokes out, opening his eyes and tipping his chin down to look up at Phoenix.
“You’re close?”
“Yes—“
“You wanna cum?”
Miles furrows his brows, finding some of his usual edge even when he’s getting fucked.
“Don’t… don’t ask stupid questions.”
Another smile spreads across Phoenix’s face. Miles hardly has a chance to process it before his eyes go wide as Phoenix pushes in as deep as he can and going perfectly still. His race towards an orgasm also comes to a screeching halt as Miles nearly tosses his head back with a frustrated shout. If not for the tie, he would bang his fist down on the mattress before shoving Phoenix onto his back to finish the job himself.
There’s nothing he can do, though, other than lie back, trembling from head to toe, staring up at Phoenix. He hates how his thighs are shaking where Phoenix is holding him and how his cock throbs almost painfully as the threat of orgasm slowly ebbs away.
“What are you doing?!” Miles blurts out in an uncharacteristic display of desperation. “Move!”
“I wanna see you like this a little longer.”
“Wright—“
“You can call me Phoenix, you know.”
“Phoenix.”
Miles can feel him twitch inside of him with that one, and he almost sobs.
“I like that.”
“Then move, Phoenix.”
“Like this?”
While he does move, it’s to lean down and press a kiss to Miles’ forehead and slick a few sweaty strands of hair back since he can’t do it himself. It’s an endearing enough gesture that he doesn’t knee him in the stomach, especially when he’s out of breath and frustrated. It’s not cute enough for him to not gripe about it, though.
“No, not like that—“ Miles feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. They blur his vision so that he doesn’t catch Phoenix’s little wink before the hands on his thighs move to his waist to turn him over onto his stomach. He grumbles into the pillow, arms still over his head with the tie twisted tighter from the change in position. Looking over his shoulder and bracing his weight on his elbows to the best of his ability, Miles eagerly watches as Phoenix drags his hips up, pulling him onto his knees with his back still sloped downwards.
Phoenix pushes back in, not giving him a chance to gather his bearings or readjust to his size before going back to the same reckless pace as before. It’s hard and fast, his hips moving quickly with each thrust more forceful than the last. Miles gasps for air, his shaky fingers gripping the length of tie binding his wrists to the headboard.
It doesn’t take long for Miles to get back to the same place he was before, the threat of orgasm building up in the pit of his stomach as Phoenix relentlessly hammers the sensitive bundle of nerves in him. The way Phoenix leans down, fitting his chest against his back to bite at his shoulders and neck doesn’t help him last any longer. He’s relentless, marking him up with hickeys and indentations of his teeth—all of which Miles decides he can chastise him for later.
Miles decidedly doesn’t voice how close he is, instead showing it in how he presses his hips back more erratically. Phoenix hasn't touched his cock aside from that swipe of one finger, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest when he’s more than a little versed in just fucking the orgasm out of him. After just a few more thrusts, a little more grinding and a lot more gasping for air between moans, Miles cums hard, his orgasm leaving him in a daze as his climax splatters onto the sheets beneath him and onto his stomach with each rough thrust.
Phoenix’s orgasm follows shortly after and again, he pushes in to the hilt before freezing in place. It’s dizzying and Miles swears he feels too hot to touch. He wants to slump over onto his stomach, but Phoenix is still on his back, moaning his name and muffling against the nape of his neck. Miles simply shivers in place.
“You… never remember to pull out.” Miles complains once he catches his breath, feeling Phoenix’s climax running down his thighs.
“Whoops.”
“It’s fine.”
“Just say you like it, Miles.”
If he could get any redder, Miles absolutely would do that.
“Stop talking and untie me.” Miles mutters and Phoenix is quick to oblige after withdrawing, tugging at knots until they come undone. His wrists are sore, now red and purple where the tie dug into him, but Miles can’t bring himself to care. If anything, like the bites on his thigh and the ones all over his throat and shoulders, he’ll consider them a gift from Phoenix to him—a gift like breakfast in bed, stargazing on his balcony with a bottle of wine, or a coffee-stained red tie folded neatly into a box.
“You didn’t tell me…” Miles continues, rolling onto his back with Phoenix still on top of him so he can press their lips together with a chaste kiss. “What we were celebrating.”
“I’m offended. You really don’t know, huh?” Phoenix feigns a look of betrayal.
“No.”
“It’s the anniversary,” Pressing a kiss to each of Miles’ bruised wrists, Phoenix smiles. It’s not that smug grin or that coy smirk. “Of the day I decided I was going to chase you to the ends of the earth.”
“And how was I supposed to know that?”
“Thought tying you down would have been a good hint.”
“Very funny.”
Miles sighs, his arms wrapping around Phoenix’s neck as he cards his fingers through his hair.
“You did a good job of chasing me, didn’t you?”
“I like to think so.”
Phoenix laughs and Miles can’t help but laugh as well. It’s a breathy, raspy laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
“I’m glad you did.” Miles murmurs, looking up at Phoenix with all the love and adoration in the world in his eyes. “The ends of the earth would be a terribly lonely place without you.”