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“So just to be clear Edgeworth, you're saying that you want an attached pergola over the back patio with a fire pit out further in the yard?”
“Of course not,” Miles scoffed. “An attached pergola, yes; it just looks nicer with the lines of the house. But for the fiftieth time, we don't need a fire pit out in the yard. We live in Southern California; how often does it get that cold? Additionally—”
“But—”
“Additionally, Wright, the majority of our friend group is unreasonably clumsy, so really for their own safety, a fire table should suffice.” His voice unintentionally took on a bit of a wheedle. “We can get that reflective blue fire glass you like so much. The pieces do so match your eyes.”
“But if the fire table is out in the yard, it'll get rained on. I know, I know, they make covers for them, but I don't want to risk it getting damaged after all the work we put into this outdoor space. It will have to go on the patio with the rest of the seating.”
“I don't want the propane that close to the house, Wright, it would be a fire hazard.”
“You're right, Miles,” Phoenix said breezily and Miles narrowed his eyes from where he lay on his husband's chest on the couch. “Let's compromise. We'll get a fire table and keep it out in the yard and it can sit under a freestanding gazebo that's big enough for plenty of seating. We can even make a path from the back door with that Westchester Gray crushed rock you were staring at in Home Depot, when we went shopping for S-biners.” He leaned close to Miles's ear to seal the deal. “Those rocks do so match your eyes, you know.” Miles had lost.
He didn't even realize he'd been so obvious when they passed the landscape supply section. In fact, he was certain that all he had done was mentally note them for consideration at a later date when they were ready to design pathways. Naturally, his husband who was absurdly observant (not to mention observably absurd) had somehow picked up on his tell and unfortunately, Miles was so charmed by the notion that all he could do was sigh.
“Alright, Phoenix. That sounds like an adequate compromise.” He tilted his head up; Phoenix wasn't even trying to hide his smirk. He scowled and started to look back down but Phoenix's left arm tightened around him and his right hand moved to lift Miles's chin back up.
“Don't be a sore loser when you haven't even lost,” he teased. Then as Miles opened his mouth to snap something petulant, Phoenix stopped him with a kiss. Miles briefly considered breaking away to continue arguing, but what would be the point? Instead, he leaned in and deepened it. He reached up to touch Phoenix's cheek, brushing his fingers down the contour of his jawline and in return, Phoenix sucked his bottom lip in and nipped at it. Miles pressed in further, moaning softly. He felt a twitch under his hip and coming slightly back to himself, realized his neck was not going to let him stay in this position very long. He sat back and, using his arm as leverage, pulled himself up to straddle Phoenix and resume the kiss. There was certainly more than a twitch beneath him this time and he grabbed his husband's face with both hands and rolled his hips. Phoenix opened his mouth to moan; Miles gently pressed his thumbs into the hinges of his jaw to widen it further and pushed his tongue in, tasting a hint of orange and capers. Hands grabbed his hips, holding him in place so that Phoenix could grind up into him, and he moved one hand to slide into the brown spikes and grip them firmly.
“Mi-Miles,” the man under him gasped, trying to pull back a bit. Miles let him. “Maybe we should do this in bed. My back, y'know.” Miles leaned in to give him another searing kiss and sat back on his heels.
“Alright.” he said, voice admittedly a little ragged, and stood, picking up his glasses from the coffee table as he walked towards their bedroom. He set them on his nightstand and turned the covers down on the bed as he heard Phoenix dutifully turning lights off in the other rooms. Miles was stretching after laying on the couch for so long, when a pair of long warm arms wrapped around him from behind and a mouth brushed against the spot just beneath his ear. It was his weakness and he grabbed onto the hips behind him to keep his knees from giving out this early. He leaned his head back onto Phoenix's broad shoulder and relished in the feel of lips, of teeth, of tongue, traveling down his hairline to the base of his neck. A hand in his hair gently tugged his head to the side and fastened itself to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, firm enough to send a jolt to his cock but not enough to leave a mark on his skin. The owner of that delicious mouth knew how anxious Miles could be about that on a work night, despite his neckwear in the workplace. The lips trailed back up his neck slowly and he let out a long groan that cut off into a whimper as teeth grazed under his ear again.
Phoenix ran his fingers under Miles’s shirt and up his ribs, taking the shirt with it. Miles lifted his arms up so that it could be removed, then hot hands grasped his hips firmly and a stiff erection ground into his ass. Phoenix leaned into his ear to whisper, “Let's get these sweatpants off too, eh?”
Miles blinked. “These aren't sweatpants, Wright, they're athleisure.”
“Athleisure? You think the word sweatpants is embarrassing but then you're going to go and call them—”
“It's a real word. It's in the OED for Christ's—”
“Since when did you even become a portmanteau guy? Hell, Edgeworth, just last week, you wouldn’t even say the word froyo—”
Miles turned around. “Frozen yogurt is a perfectly appropriate term and for your information, the word athleisure has been in use since the 1970's. Anyway—”
“Oh, I see, so you only use portmanteaus from half a century ago, what a completely reasonable line in the sand—“
“And anyway,” Miles sniffed. “These are Thom Browne.”
“I know, I recognize the stripes. You left the website up on our computer once, so out of curiosity I clicked around and you know what word they use in the item description? Sweatpa— mmph!”
Miles unashamedly ended the debate he was about to lose with a fierce kiss as he shoved the lounge pants down along with his boxer briefs and kicked them both off. He could feel Phoenix silently laughing into his mouth, so as a further distraction, he firmly grabbed his husband's dick through his own sweatpants. That seemed to do the trick, as Phoenix's laughter devolved into a moan. Miles tugged down his pants and Phoenix kicked them off, grabbed his shoulders, and walked him the few steps backwards to the bed. Sitting heavily, he pulled Phoenix down to straddle him and reignited the kiss. He ran his hands over Phoenix's chest, pausing to brush a nipple and, hearing a soft groan, gave it a gentle pinch. In return, Phoenix reached down to tug at Miles’s cock which was quickly becoming hard.
Phoenix pulled back, eyes darting from cheek to forehead to mouth, adjusting his grip, his angle, his speed based on whatever he saw there. There was an inexorable pull to those blue-gray eyes narrowed slightly in service of giving full attention to every reaction, as his hand continued to stroke. Quick shallow breaths escaped Miles and he couldn't look away, his chest tight under the weight of a partner's single-minded focus on him and only him. A twist of the wrist and a flick of the thumb later and he was falling back on his elbows, gasping.
“Get back on the pillows,” Phoenix whispered and Miles hurried backwards, pulling his legs up onto the bed and re-angling himself. He settled back as Phoenix crawled over him, dipping his head down to suck at a nipple.
“Phoenix,” he growled in warning but was only met with a tugging at this other nipple. He hissed a breath through his teeth as tugging turning to a tight pinch which burned straight to his cock.
Miles shuddered and dug his hands into his husband's shoulders, “Please stop teasing me, Phoenix.”
The man quickly worked his way down, leaving kisses in his wake, and lifted Miles’s legs over his shoulders. He tried to look down to see what Phoenix was doing, but all he could see was spiky hair sticking up from between his legs. Without warning, a hand gently pulled his sac and one testicle was engulfed in a wet heat.
Miles grabbed Phoenix's hair roughly and snapped (begged), “Fuck, Phoenix, please.”
Phoenix unclenched Miles’s hand, lifted it up to rest on his own cock, and buried his face in Miles's ass. Miles began to stroke himself in earnest, trying and failing to imitate the thumb flick with which Phoenix had surprised him earlier, but was soon too distracted to try again. Phoenix wrapped one arm around his waist to hold him in place and used his other hand to spread him open.
Miles was completely lost in the unceasing assault of Phoenix's tongue; circling, twisting, prodding, licking, probing. The room was filled with the sound of his asshole being sloppily devoured and he twitched at the tickle of saliva dripping small rivulets down the cleft between his cheeks. He moaned as he was licked with a flat tongue from tailbone to the underside of his balls. He gasped as that same tongue circled the ring of his hole again and again. He cried hoarsely as Phoenix’s mouth latched on and fully began probing at the tight orifice, twisting this way and that in its quest to enter him. He panted shallowly, breaths scraping his trachea through each inhale and burning it on the way back out. He felt the tongue fully breach his hole and that was all it took for Miles to paint his own chest.
It felt like every muscle in his body had simultaneously loosened and he laid there, a boneless mess, gasping and staring at the ceiling. Phoenix kissed his inner thigh and he jerked his leg away, over-sensitized. His husband got the hint, crawled up next to him, and gently held his hand. Breath normalizing, Miles reached over to the drawer in his nightstand, pulled out a clean hand towel and wiped himself down. He tossed it to land directly on Phoenix's bottoms on the floor, rather than dirty the rug, and turned back on his side to face him. Phoenix pushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and traced the curve of his jaw, smiling. Miles ran his fingers along his dick and found it completely rigid.
“It won't take long, Miles,” he whispered, beseeching. “It's so hot watching you that I just...” Miles was tempted to tease Phoenix in retaliation but those stormy blue eyes looked desperate enough that he relented. He arranged himself between Phoenix’s legs, tightened his grip around the base of his cock, and slid it into his mouth; receiving an immediate groan. Phoenix was easily overstimulated by too much direct attention to the head, so Miles took him in further until his lips met the top of his fist. He stayed at that depth; slow, gentle movements, letting the back of his tongue press into the ridge just beneath. Phoenix was crying out in time to the rhythm; his voice already an octave higher than usual. Miles felt a wave of affection flow through him that his partner was genuinely so aroused by making him come. He kept his pace until he felt Phoenix's legs shaking on either side of him; little uncontrollable twitches of his knees and kicks of his feet. Hollowing his cheeks just once for a firm suck was all it took and he was swallowing down every drop of Phoenix. He released him and sat up to see Phoenix still trembling, so he ran his hand across his chest, fingers running through the dark hair until the tremors subsided. Miles bent down to press a kiss on his forehead before rising to go run a shower before bed.
As he opened the shower door, he heard Phoenix call out, “Did you really toss your dirty towel on my name-brand Target joggers? I was planning to sleep in those, you ass.” Served him right both for being such a tease and for pronouncing 'Target' as 'Tar-jay'.
Back in bed, his head on Phoenix's chest, Miles voiced a suspicion he had: “Did you have some kind of internal goal you were trying to meet before you decided to stop winding me up?” Phoenix started shaking and Miles looked up to see he was laughing.
“Yeah, you got me. I was trying to see if I could make you say both “fuck” and “please” in one sitting.”
“Really, Wright? How childish.” Miles was excellent at pretending he had the moral high ground.
“Well,” Phoenix glanced at him smugly, “I managed to get two pleases out of you, so I'd call that a success.”
“And if I never had? Would you have just strung me along forever?”
Phoenix laughed out loud at that and then kissed him on the temple, “I guess we'll never know.”
Miles leaned up to kiss his jaw before rolling over to go to sleep. “I love you.”
His husband’s quiet “I love you too” washed over him as he closed his eyes.