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The last thing Mydeimos expects to hear when he rushes to visit Phainon in the infirmary is that his supposed longtime bitter rival has been whining and begging for him on his sickbed.
“He’s inconsolable. There’s nothing else I can do to make him feel better,” Hyacine assures him, shaking her head wistfully. “You need to get in there immediately.”
Mydei wants to question her logic, but the Okhema Military Academy’s nurse has always given him solid medical advice.
“Did he really hit his head that hard?” he can't help but ask. Her insistence that Phainon had tearfully asked her why his dear Mydeimos hasn't come to visit feels so far removed from reality that Mydei wonders if he’s actually the one who got his brain scrambled.
He and Phainon have been at each other’s throats from the moment their eyes met on orientation day three years ago. Mydeimos, the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos who descended from a long line of mighty warriors, and Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, the swordsmanship prodigy who made a name for himself before ever stepping foot on the academy on a full scholarship.
It was only natural that they’d be pitted against each other by students and instructors alike, as they were each other’s only true equals. Mydei would have been fairly indifferent to the manufactured rivalry had Phainon not been more than happy to indulge in it and pester him to compete at all hours of the day.
He’s clearly had it out for Mydei before they even had the chance to speak to each other, and yet Phainon seemingly spends all his time plotting to capture Mydei’s attention in the most insufferable ways possible.
He is a strange, somewhat hostile presence in Mydei’s relatively uneventful existence.
Considering their history, Mydei should not care that Phainon fell over and hurt his head during a routine training earlier this afternoon. He should not be running to the infirmary as soon as word of Phainon’s injury reached him while he was peacefully studying in the library.
And yet here he is, sweaty, out of breath, nearly sick with worry, and now incredibly confused.
“I don't see how that’s relevant,” Hyacine replies, staring at him as though he grew a chimera tail.
Huh?
“What else would make him act so…out of character?”
What else would have him tearfully call for me on his sickbed?
She’s now staring at him like he grew chimera ears. “He’s– do you really not know?”
“Know what, exactly?”
Hyacine purses her lips and contemplates something before shrugging to herself. “Visiting hours are almost over, Mydeimos. You should hurry inside so I don't have to listen to any more of his whining. I’m going to take a well-deserved break.”
Well. Mydei is already here. He might as well attempt to take a crack at figuring out whatever the fuck is wrong with that idiot.
He nods sternly to Hyacine as though he’s about to walk into battle, and she responds with a weary salute.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The sight of Phainon sleeping on the infirmary bed, the bandage on his head stained with red, stirs more emotions than Mydei was prepared for.
He looks so defenseless and vulnerable, so far removed from the cocky facade he puts on whenever Mydei so much as glances in his direction, and Mydei decides that he likes him a lot better this way.
It’s a bit easier to admit it to himself here and now, when Phainon’s blue eyes aren't attempting to penetrate the depths of his soul, but the worst thing about his so-called rival is just how irresistible he is. He’s stripped down to the fitted high neck black shirt he wears under his uniform jacket, and Mydei’s mouth goes dry as he takes note of how the fabric strains around his broad shoulders and defined abs. His muscular build forms the perfect contrast against his boyshily handsome features.
It’s as if he was created solely to torment Mydei, in more ways than one.
Phainon is breathing softly, white hair strands sticking to his face in a way that should look unflattering, but adds a rugged charm to his stupid pretty face.
Mydei’s come all this way. He has to concede that he cares just a little, that the anxiety that had been building up in his chest finally dissipated once he saw Phainon safe and sound with his own eyes.
He takes a step closer towards the bed, his heart pounding in his ears as he gathers enough courage to indulge in a deep seated urge that he’s buried down all these years, and caresses Phainon’s cheek gently.
Phainon is predictably warm, even while wearing less layers than usual. His face is damp with sweat, but Mydei doesn't mind that at all. Feeling his rival’s gentle breathing, the heat of his skin, is too thrilling for him to care about anything else.
Hyacine was overreacting earlier. Mydei didn't need to be here at all, and now that he’s had the chance to stealthily make sure that Phainon is okay, he can quietly slip awa–
Phainon’s eyes flutter open without warning. “My…deimos?”
Mydei panics and reacts the only way he knows when it comes to Phainon.
The gentle caress turns into a slap.
He regrets it immediately, because Phainon doesn't get fired up or attempt to fight back the way he would under normal circumstances. He remains still and rubs at the point of impact as though he’s wiping away an unexpected raindrop.
“I am no Miss Hyacine, but I don't think that’s the appropriate way to treat a concussion,” Phainon jokes with a smile, that familiar glint of mischief finding its way back to his eyes.
“I was just checking to see if you’re alive,” Mydei lies badly, deciding that it’s still better than admitting the embarrassing truth.
“If I had died, I would imagine that you would be the first to know.” Phainon sits up, slowly regaining that smug demeanor that makes Mydei want to jump him. “So, to what do I truly owe this honor?”
What the fuck? Where is the wet puppy that Hyacine had promised him? This is just regular old vanilla Phainon.
It’s either that she was lying, or that Phainon has already recovered from that initial hit. Of course his stupid sexy body had to be practically made of steel, bouncing back from a head injury in a single afternoon nap. Why was Mydei worried about him for even a second?
Mydei sets aside the bizarre rush of disappointment he feels, because he’s not about to let that idiot have the last word. “I thought you might be bored here and decided to take pity on you.”
Way to go Mydeimos, that's a lot more believable.
“His Highness is as gracious as always,” Phainon says as he bows his head. “Assuming his mere presence is sufficient entertainment for me in this dreary infirmary.”
You know what? It doesn't matter what Hyacine said, because Mydei is plenty motivated to make Phainon cry all on his own.
“Stop speaking nonsense, I just came here to drop something off,” Mydei huffs and digs into his satchel, scrambling to find anything before pulling out a heavy, battered book and placing it on the bedside table. “It’s clear that you would benefit from spending this free time filling that empty head of yours with useful knowledge.”
Phainon picks up the book and squints at the cover, and the way his face scrunches in confusion is almost endearing. “A Kremnoan Dictionary? I don't need this, I’m practically fluent in your mother tongue.”
A flare of something that resembles jealousy ignites in Mydei’s chest. Since when does he know Kremnoan? Who is teaching it to him? What is he learning it for and why has he never spoken a word of it in front of Mydei?
“Are you now?” Mydei sneers, hoping to all Titans that he’s calling Phainon’s bluff.
“Yes of course, try saying something to me and I’ll understand it perfectly,” Phainon challenges. It’s almost comforting how he retains his usual unwarranted confidence even after he’s hit his head.
There is just no way. Mydei refuses to believe that Phainon has enough time between all his evil scheming to actually study another language, and his mother tongue no less.
So he decides to speak his heart.
“You were begging for me earlier, but here you are now acting like a fool.”
Phainon buffers while processing his words just long enough for Mydei to deduce that his fluency claim was greatly exaggerated, and he’s filled with relief.
“Hey! I’m not an idiot!” Phainon responds belatedly, completely dodging the much more incriminating part of that sentence.
Mydei folds his arms and tsks. “Of course that's the only word you know.”
“No, it’s not. I know plenty more,” he replies stubbornly.
“Sure you do,” Mydei waves him off and starts to walk away, itching to erase all memories of this excruciating visit from his mind.
“You know, I never said I would prefer the company of a boring old book over you,” Phainon mutters, stopping him in his tracks.
He actually wants Mydei to stay? How does that work? Mydei had assumed he would enjoy having a break from treating their school like an active battlefield.
What’s the real play here? Is he going to give Mydei a matching concussion so they’re on equal grounds again? To be frank, Mydei is still curious about what it is about hitting your head that suddenly makes you yearn for your sworn enemy.
Or maybeeee, a voice at the back of his head whispers, this right here is the same Phainon Hyacine had described.
No. Nonsense. This possibility has implications that he does not want to entertain right now.
Mydei pulls down the curtain surrounding Phainon’s bed to give them more privacy. If people saw them like this, they would assume Mydei had attempted murder.
Or they might assume something even worse.
“I suppose I have an hour to kill before dinner,” he agrees nonchalantly, and Phainon lights up as if someone just threw him and Mydei in an arena and told them to fight to death. “What other words have you learned?”
He expects Phainon to rattle off a colorful string of obscenities, perhaps overheard during training with their Kremnoan classmates, or even from Mydei himself.
“Pretty,” is the last word he ever expected Phainon to say, especially while looking up at Mydei with unmistakable intent. “Sexy, irresistible…”
He retains eye contact with Mydei the entire time, devilish grin growing wider seeing the flustered look on his face. It feels like a fever dream, listening to his rival recite those sweet words at him.
“And what else?” Mydei asks breathlessly, standing at the edge of Phainon's bed. He should be telling him off. He should be yelling at him for using his people’s ancient, sacred language to toy with him.
Instead, he’s itching to hear Phainon flirt with him some more.
Phainon grabs his wrist as though he’s scared he’ll run away any second, and it’s only then that Mydei notices that his hand is trembling, anxiety creating dents in his confident facade.
“Kiss me,” he whispers, and the request sends a rush of heat between Mydei’s legs.
It’s not fair. Phainon is sitting up on the bed with his blanket pushed aside, his black shirt riding up to reveal a perfect set of abs and a white happy trail that disappears into his loose slacks. His hair is a mess and his face is glistening with sweat, but his eyes are as sharp and hungry as ever.
Hm. Hungry. That's the way he’s been looking at Mydei all along.
Mydei’s body moves by instinct, driven entirely by desire. He shakes off his shoes and climbs on top of the bed, and settles in Phainon’s lap.
To his credit, Phainon looks awe-struck, as if he himself can't believe that his scheme had worked.
What an idiot. He might have been desperately vying for Mydei’s attention, but when has Mydei ever not given in and indulged him in return?
“Your pronunciation could really use some work,” Mydei scolds, grappling on to his shoulders and shuddering when Phainon’s big hands curl around his waist.
There is a split second of tension, an acknowledgment of where their relationship has been and how they're about to defy everything they thought they understood about each other.
A chance for Mydei to knock Phainon out with that book and sprint out of the infirmary.
Against all odds, he lets the moment pass, and Phainon’s lips crash into his.
Their first kiss is clumsy and desperate, stilted with tension that slowly chips away as their bodies melt together, as awkwardness and unfamiliarity are replaced with heat and desire. Phainon kisses Mydei like he’s coming up for air, like he needs to suck and lick at his lips in order to live, and his passion only heightens Mydei’s own arousal.
“But you understood me just fine,” Phainon whispers against his mouth when they break apart, kneading his thumbs into Mydei’s sensitive waist, chuckling to himself when Mydei squirms with pleasure. “Wouldn't kill you to praise me, you know.”
“You idiot.”
Phainon’s ironclad grip around his waist tightens, and he grinds Mydei’s body down on his lap, right against his hard cock.
Mydei inhales sharply. He’s already uncomfortably wet, and feeling the generous length of Phainon’s cock under his slacks has him lightheaded. He’s suddenly forgotten how to speak either language.
It’s thick and hard enough for Mydei to rub his clothed pussy against, creating the perfect amount of friction as they continue to kiss sloppily, and he rapidly loses control when Phainon begins to rut up into him.
Mydei completely forgets that they’re technically in a public space, and he can't suppress his breathy moans feeling Phainon’s dick stimulate his clit and make a mess out of his underwear. Titans, it’s so big that he could probably cum just imagining what it would feel like inside him.
Phainon keeps himself busy in the meantime, unbuttoning Mydei’s military uniform jacket and throwing it to the side before roughly lifting his shirt up and exposing his perky, hard nipples.
His rival laughs hearing the pathetic whine that escapes Mydei when he breaks their kiss once more, only to be replaced with an approving hum when Phainon begins to suck on his tits instead.
Phainon’s thrusts grow rougher and more erratic once his attention is shifted to Mydei’s round, hefty pecs, and Mydei dizzily wonders just how long he’s waited to taste them.
“P–Phainon,” he whimpers, soft and breathy. “Close.”
It doesn't take a fluent speaker to understand what he’s trying to communicate, and Phainon slams his hips into Mydei’s cunt roughly, edging him ever closer to his release.
Mydei climaxes with a needy moan, and Phainon’s blue eyes peer up at him while continuing to suck his stiff nipple.
“Hmm, who knew the esteemed heir to the Kremnoan throne would come apart so easily from grinding on my cock?” Phainon teases, pushing Mydei’s pants down to his knees. It’s not a comfortable position to be in, but Mydei is too horny to care about anything besides Phainon’s fingers edging closer to his clit. “Perhaps I was using the wrong sword all along.”
His stupid joke knocks a little bit of sense into Mydei. What the fuck is he doing right now? He just came on his rival’s lap, and in a place where anyone could walk in at any second, no less.
But Mydei can't walk away. He’s still high with arousal, unable to get off Phainon until he rams that cock inside of him. He needs it now.
“Shut up and fuck me already,” Mydei hisses in Kremnoan, nuzzling his face into Phainon’s neck.
His earlier assessment about Phainon understanding profanities unfortunately proves to be correct. “You mean like this?”
He peels the wet fabric of his underwear to the side and pushes an experimental finger inside of Mydei’s wet cunt, and Mydei gasps and nods into his shoulder. Phainon’s entire body vibrates in a fond laugh, and he continues fucking Mydei with his fingers, adding a second one and holding Mydei still as he writhes and shudders in his arms.
Mydei bites on his bottom lip to keep quiet, and it feels impossible because Phainon’s fingers alone feel so good, stretching him out and curling into his tight walls with precision. Worse, he seems to get off on Mydei’s reactions, grunting soft yeahs with each one of Mydei’s suppressed moans.
“Phainon, are you there?” A voice calls out at the door, and they both freeze.
Fuck fuck fuck. Mydei has gone off the deep end and indulged too much, and he’s about to pay the price now. He can’t move from where he’s planted himself in Phainon’s lap without making enough noise to rouse suspension,
Maybe Phainon will be smart enough to pretend to be asleep, prompting the visitor to leave without investigating behind the curtain.
To his horror, that idiot answers. “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” the voice says, and Mydei recognize that it’s Cyrene, one of Phainon’s close companions. “I heard about what happened. Are you okay?”
Mydei glares at Phainon, and is met with an easy smile. His fingers are still buried in Mydei’s pussy, and he thrusts them in and out of him leisurely while continuing the conversation. “I’m all good! Miss Hyacine patched me up, I should have the clear to return to classes in the next two days or so.”
It should be too embarrassing, too terrifying for him to still feel horny, but Mydei discovers that the thrill of getting caught only makes it better, especially with the way Phainon continues to casually fuck him in secret while pretending to give another person his attention.
And besides, would anyone believe Cyrene if she described this scene to anyone else in the academy?
“That’s a relief,” she says, and Phainon takes the opportunity to swirl his tongue around Mydei’s areola. Mydei squeaks in surprise, prompting an awkward silence in the infirmary. “Uh, are you alright?”
His face heats up, and Phainon’s easy expression shifts into something darker. The promise of a punishment for not keeping quiet.
He rams a third finger inside of Mydei, absorbing the resulting moan with a hand clamped on his mouth.
“I’m alright! My foot just fell asleep,” Phainon assures her with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve been stuck in this bed all day. You know how it is.”
Cyrene seems unconvinced, and also a little bit concerned. “Right. Well, I hope you feel better soon. Everyone is wishing you a speedy recovery!”
“Thank you,” Phainon replies. “I’ve received top quality care. The royal treatment, you could say.”
Mydei glares at him, and Phainon puckers his lips at him in response. He is so fucking insufferable.
“Speaking of royalty,” Cyrene says, curiously wiping that smug look clean off Phainon’s face. “I’m sure the love of your life is worried sick right now.”
Mydei’s heart sinks. Who is she talking about?
And why is it not him?
He feels so stupid for allowing himself to believe that Phainon’s enthusiasm was driven by anything but boredom and lust. He must just be toying with Mydei so he could taunt him about it later on.
At least Phainon has the decency to look nervous. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Cyrene scoffs. “Did you hit your head hard enough to forget your pathetic crush on the Crown Prince of Castrum Kremnos? Scratch that, I don’t think even a concussion is enough to knock it out of you.”
Oh.
“Alright, Cyrene, you’ve met your quota of teasing me about Mydeimos for the week,” Phainon concedes, and he actually blushes, refusing to meet Mydei’s eyes.
Oh, wow.
“And I won’t stop until you tell him how you feel instead of doing the adult equivalent of pulling your crush’s pigtails in the playground,” Cyrene laughs, finally satisfied by his reaction. This is Phainon at his most normal, Mydei realizes with horror. “Rest well, see you tomorrow!”
She walks away, shutting the door behind her.
It’s deadly quiet, and Phainon has stopped stretching Mydei’s out with his fingers. He closely resembles a kicked puppy, shrouded with shame and embarrassment, and Mydei finally finds the liberty to admit loud and proud to himself that it’s absolutely adorable.
“You wouldn’t want to be subjected to any more teasing now, would you?” Mydei breaks the silence, and Phainon perks up, surprised by his gentle tone. Did this dumbass seriously think he was going to get rejected if he was just honest and vulnerable about how he truly feels?
“Is it really okay with you?” Phainon asks with a small pout.
Of course he did.
“No, Phainon. I just let you finger me out of sympathy,” Mydei replies, deadpan, just so he could hear how big of an idiot he’s being right now.
Phainon giggles, shaking the tense nerves off his body. His arms wrap around Mydei’s waist again,
“I like you, Mydeimos,” Phainon says bashfully, in adorable accented Kremnoan.
“Your pronunciation has improved significantly,” Mydei replies, rewarding him with a soft kiss, and Phainon smiles against his lips and pulls him closer.
“I’ve had the best instructor Okhema could offer,” Phainon whispers, and its only then that Mydei figures out that he’s been learning Kremnoan for the sole purpose of winning him over. It’s so obvious in hindsight, and he feels a little silly for ever considering that there might be someone else. “I’d like to hear how it sounds from a native, though.”
So needy. Having Phainon as a rival was already a handful, but having him as his lover is about to be a full time job.
Mydei finds that he doesn’t mind at all.
He’s never actually minded. Phainon is stupid and smug and takes far too much pleasure in teasing him, but he’s also breathtakingly handsome and witty, devoted and obsessive in a way that feels more sexy than suffocating. He’s been showering Mydei with his love and undivided attention all along, and it’s only when he was faced with the threat of Phainon pouring that same devotion over someone else that he realized he can't live without it anymore. He wants Phainon all to himself, now and forever.
“I like you too, you idiot,” he mumbles. It’s always more embarrassing to say corny and sentimental things in your native tongue.
“So cute,” Phainon coos in Kremnoan, running a hand through Mydei’s hair. “Look at how you’re blushing. Very pretty.”
It’s also embarrassing listening to Phainon acknowledge just how flustered Mydei is right now, so he scrambles to change the topic.
“Fifteen minutes until visiting hours are over,” he says, purposely bending his knees to grind his pussy on Phainon’s untouched erection. “Are you going to make the most of them?”
Phainon winces at the friction, but doesn’t make a move. “I don’t know, Mydei. There is something I’m very curious about.”
“It better not be something stupid,” Mydei warns, which doesn’t deter him at all. In fact, it seems to have the exact opposite effect.
“What’s the Kremnoan word for please?” Phainon tilts his head, feigning innocence.
He’s the devil.
Mydei is going to teach him a lesson. Not now. But at some point. In the near future. Preferably in a combat setting.
For now, he’s willing to trade away a piece of his dignity if it means that Phainon will finally stop with the teasing and shove that thing inside of him.
“Fuck me, please,” Mydei begs, still blushing and a little tearful. He can’t take it anymore.
“Oh, I’m going to spoil you rotten,” Phainon promises, pushing down his slacks to free his cock, and it bounces before Mydei, rock hard and leaking precum. It’s a miracle he’s managed to stay patient for so long, perhaps already accustomed to long spells of Mydei-induced sexual frustration. “If you’re going to look this sexy while begging me to fuck you, Mydeimos.”
Mydei doesn’t have a witty retort. He just nods and lifts himself up to position his pussy over the thick head of Phainon’s cock.
“So impatient,” Phainon teases, pushing Mydei’s entire body down with just one hand on his waist. He’s the only person capable of manhandling Mydei like this, and the fact that he’s still able to do it while lying in bed with an injury makes it so much sexier.
Mydei arches his back while swallowing Phainon’s entire length, his parted lips rounding to form a surprised o. Phainon’s fingers pale to the stretch of his dick, and he can barely breath as he takes it in, his walls tensing around the thick, veiny cock as it penetrates him deeper and deeper.
They don’t have much time, and someone else, namely the nurse who instigated this encounter in the first place, could walk in at any second. Phainon doesn’t waste a single moment, pressing Mydei’s body against him and caging in him in his arms while ramming his full length into his pussy with every thrust.
“I like you so much, Mydeimos,” he mumbles pathetically, and Mydei can barely process a single word, his mind overtaken with pleasure.
The wet slams resulting from Phainon’s deep, rapid thrusts are far too loud to go undetected by passersbys outside the infirmary, even as Mydei keeps his pretty moans quiet and breathy.
“I’ve dreamed of this moment for years,” Phainon continues, sounding delirious, almost as if he’s in a trance. “You feel so much better than I ever imagined, taking my cock so well.”
“So good,” Mydei agrees in Kremnoan, slightly drooling as Phainon continues holding him like a ragdoll while fucking him.
They wouldn't be able to stop if anyone walked in on them now, and all they would hear is the sound of Phainon’s big cock bottoming out inside him with each thrust, of Phainon taking full control and turning the dignified, proud Crown Prince into a barely coherent mess, mind wiped of anything besides an insatiable need for his cock.
It’s the ever looming danger of being discovered that does Mydei in, and he climaxes again in Phainon’s arms, stars dotting his vision while the intense orgasm ravages his body.
“Fuck, Mydei, You look so sexy when you cum,” Phainon babbles in a a mixture of the two languages. He wasn't so wrong after all, he was fluent in Kremnoan where it mattered. “I–I’m so close too–”
He takes Mydei’s lips as he fucks his now sensitive, overstimulated cunt to completion. Phainon digs his fingers into Mydei’s hips painfully and cums inside of him, filling his pussy with his load.
They probably should have searched for condoms around the infirmary before things got too hot and heavy, but Mydei is grateful for the slip in judgement, because the feeling of being filled with Phainon’s cum prompts a happy, warm sensation in his belly that’s almost as good as his earlier orgasm.
They’re going to have a miserable time trying to keep their hands off each other in those next few days, aren't they?
“I’m so happy I hit my head,” Phainon is saying while Mydei gets dressed later and prepares to leave a few minutes later. He’s already half asleep, Mydei’s pussy knocking him out harder than the strongest sleeping pills in Hyacine’s medicine cabinet.
It’s a shame Mydei can't use his fist on that empty head of his when he says something stupid. “Don’t say things like that, you idiot. I was worried sick about you.”
Phainon dons a lazy smile at his confession, and it takes Mydei a second to realize that he just admitted he lied about the intentions behind his visit. “Were you, now? Do you have a crush on me or something?”
“I wasn't the one being bullied for yearning pathetically without making a single move,” Mydei responds, straightening his jacket and gathering his messy blond curls into a low ponytail. “Oh, and if you’re so desperate to see me, just tell me directly next time instead of crying and whining about your beloved Mydeimos to Miss Hyacine.”
He takes great pleasure watching the pure terror in Phainon’s eyes.
Perhaps Mydei has learned a thing or two about handling this idiot in the past few years, after all.