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Many advantages came with Phainon’s height. It gave him an edge on the battlefield when a longer arm could balance a longer weapon. It allowed Aglaea’s garments to easily fall into the most flattering positions. Most importantly, it meant he towered over the morning crowd of Marmoreal Marketplace.
“Apologies,” he said for the umpteenth time since arriving just two quints ago. The long street had been less busy then but more people had since roused from slumber and come to peruse the goods on display. “Hold this for me.”
Before he could hear any complaints, he shoved his bags away so he could scurry through the crowd unfettered. A short sigh sounded faintly behind him but wasn’t accompanied by Phainon’s bags falling to the floor so he knew his purchases were in safe hands as he navigated towards the stall that had caught his eye with a flash of gold.
When he returned to the exact spot he had left his companion, it was with an armful of ripe quinces. “Sorry about that.”
“Apologies are meaningless without proper action,” Mydei berated but it was far from a proper chastisement when he opened the bag containing Phainon’s other fruits so that he could tip the quinces in to join them.
“I mean it this time,” he insisted with a small laugh as he reclaimed his belongings. “But if you really can’t bring yourself to let such slights go, I’ll make it up to you. How does some melimilon sound?”
The mention of food brought a small change to Mydei’s face; subtle, like wind rippling still waters, but easy to spot to someone as practiced as Phainon. The edge of his lip quirked up and his eyes creased at the edges and Phainon knew he had won him over.
“Acceptable,” Mydei said, as though the proposition hadn’t melted his gaze akin to the honey the quinces would be boiled in.
Speaking of honey…
“Fantastic. I’ll need to pick up another ingredient.”
They had walked past a couple stalls advertising small amphoras of honey but Phainon had strolled past. His original dinner plan hadn’t required any more honey than he knew was stored in his pantry but he was nothing if not an adaptable and obliging host.
Besides, the quinces had been an impulse purchase but there was only the one dish on his mind when he examined the selection for the best picks. He didn’t cook it often but each time the scent of warmed honey and quinces wafted through his kitchen, he was brought back to a small home removed from Okhema’s splendour where the uneven chunks of fruit cut by his small hands was stirred into the pot by sun-kissed and farm-worn hands.
It should have been a short walk back to the stalls where he could check the quality of their honey for the one best suited to the dish. If only there were less interesting goods on display.
A beautiful bolt of fabric here. An antique weapon there. A lovely sheen to the fruit that way but the aromatic scent of spices the other way. The allure of the city meant that, even after years of residing in Okhema, the marketplace was always abundant with new and interesting things to behold.
Such as those fresh white flowers. From a distance, their rounded petals were reminiscent of the ones adorned by Tribbie, Trinnon and Trianne but he needed a better look before he could say for certain they were the same and purchase enough to crown them in flowers—
Before he could make it a single step, a force snagged him by the coat and halted him in place.
“Stop running off,” Mydei growled low beneath the chatter of the marketplace that hadn’t ceased even as Phainon’s mind blanked like a dropped teleslate.
Mydei was carrying his own purchases and only had one hand to spare. He had stopped Phainon with one hand.
When Phainon didn’t struggle in the slightest, Mydei released his hold. Yet Phainon didn’t move.
One hand. When Phainon’s body had coiled with every intention of darting away at speed. Of course Phainon knew the strength of that immortal body—he had tested it himself. Both as he struggled to pin Mydei down knowing a single misstep would result in his back hitting the dirt first, and as he thrashed against Mydei’s hold around his long limbed and broad body—but this wasn’t the training grounds or battlefields where he admired Mydei’s power and prowess with the discerning eye of a fellow warrior.
This was the marketplace where they were shopping for the produce that would go into the dinner Phainon had promised to cook for them both. Mydei wasn’t supposed to use his might against him. Phainon wasn’t prepared! Where was Mydei’s supposed honour that demanded warriors battle on even ground?
Mydei’s appreciative hum forced Phainon’s mind back into his body and he glanced over his shoulder but Mydei’s eyes were lower, fixed on Phainon’s lower back in a way that made Phainon feel like he was the one overexposed when Mydei was one half-naked. Not that Phainon would ever complain about that.
“How convenient,” Mydei said and Phainon realised his mistake, that Mydei hadn’t relinquished his grip but merely slackened it, when another, softer tug at his coat rocked him back onto his heels. “Aglaea really thinks of everything.”
“What—“ Phainon laughed but it was too high and thin, flustered, so he cleared his throat to steady himself even as his cheeks burned. “What is this about?”
“These,” Mydei answered, most unhelpfully, with another sharp pull that tightened the fabric of Phainon’s coat around his stomach and waist. His breath stuttered in his chest for another reason entirely. “The handholds.”
“The what?” He whipped his head back but he really couldn’t see past his own shoulders even as his torso twisted the furthest he could manage.
Mydei arched a judgemental brow. “Don’t tell me you never noticed. You’ve worn these garments since we first met.”
“Mydei,” he said, utterly serious and beleaguered for it, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
This time Mydei’s hum was contemplative. “Right here—“ He poked hard enough Phainon could feel his finger through his many layers of clothing— “you have a metal ring. And a matching one on the other side.”
Awkwardly, Phainon chuckled. “That’s…”
Since when? Phainon would admit that he didn’t scrutinise his clothes too closely, not the ones he received from Aglaea with the single instruction that he wear them, because there was never a need: the fabric was light but sturdy, warm but breathable, designed to look appealing without compromising comfort and practicality.
But he should have noticed two handholds on his back sooner than this!
He twisted again but still couldn’t see anything. Any more and he would look like a dog chasing its own tail but really needed to see for himself. Mydei rarely made jokes but this was still far from his usual humour.
Before Phainon could run circles around himself, Mydei pinched the coat’s trim waistline and pulled it to the side just enough so that that Phainon could confirm for himself. There really was a metal ring, attached to the white fabric by a few leather straps.
He had questions for Aglaea.
He blinked but it didn’t melt away into a panic-induced delusion. What was their purpose? How had he never noticed them before now? Did everyone else know they were there?
“What caught your eye?”
His eyes jumped up to Mydei. “Huh? Oh.” Relieved that Mydei was, if rather bluntly, moving the conversation along while Phainon was still reeling, he pointed at the stall with the flowers. “Those. For the triplets.”
The glimpse of white petals lifted Mydei’s lips in a small smile. “Then let’s not waste any more time dawdling.”
It was only once the additional weight of Mydei’s hand disappeared from his back that Phainon’s brain restarted and scraped together a witty retort about how that had been Phainon’s intention before Mydei grabbed him like a brute. Except Mydei was already three steps ahead by the time his dry mouth recalled how to form all the correct words and he was forced to hurry back to Mydei’s side.
They purchased the flowers for the triplets and Phainon remained remarkably on task as they navigated back to the honey vendors. He went back and forth between the stalls, gathering information so he could weigh the benefits and disadvantages of each. Once his decision was made, he returned to haggle with his chosen vendor and walked away with two amphorae of honey.
The entire time, he was careful not to stray too far, too fast from Mydei’s side. One unfortunate mishap was enough for today. He didn’t need to embarrass himself any further, especially since he had walked away relatively unscathed from the first encounter compared to the havoc Mydei could have wreaked if only he took a closer look at Phainon’s face when he had—
“Watch yourself.”
Phainon’s coat snagged and he was hauled backwards. Before he could even think to question what was going on, a young dromas and a cart of goods charged through the street, whipping dirt and dust across his face. Knowing who had grabbed him and where, Phainon closed his eyes and breathed.
“Where has your brain gone?” Mydei asked, rhetorical and scathing. When Phainon didn’t immediately reply, he yanked again to garner Phainon’s attention, oblivious to how the action contradicted his goal. “It’s unlike you to be so unaware of your surroundings. What next? Will you walk headfirst into a ditch being dug by the chimeras?”
Yes, this was good. If Mydei was berating him then he was distracted.
He yanked again and Phainon sealed his lips thin as Mydei, oblivious, continued, “Not only now but earlier, too. You’ve been acting unusual since…”
No no no. Phainon screwed his eyes shut. Prayer in such circumstances felt a little too disrespectful; all he could do was accept his fate as Mydei’s grip tightened before Phainon could even consider a timely escape.
Fabric rustled and the air warmed as Mydei shuffled closer and around to peer at Phainon’s front. No doubt beginning at his scrunched eyes and the telling flush of his face down his neck to the narrow slip of skin visible due to the cut of his collar, right where his chest heaved with his careful controlled breaths.
Mydei sucked in a short, sharp inhale and the little charade was over.
“Deliverer, you…” he caught himself before he could speak Phainon’s predicament aloud right outside of Marmoreal Marketplace.
Instead, he took a deep breath and Phainon peeked an eye open but Mydei’s head was angled away, scanning the streets, before he led Phainon away by the handhold on his coat. They slipped into an alleyway towards the storehouses provided for the vendors. It was a narrow path made tighter by the crates and other miscellaneous items that someone had been too impatient to store properly and left to clutter either side.
At Mydei’s behest, Phainon shuffled along the path to his doom that ended with the alleyway’s stonewall. The odds of slipping past Mydei, sprinting to freedom, and avoiding him for the foreseeable future until he forgot all about this were, unfortunately, not in his favour.
The first strike came with the advantage and Phainon swallowed, attempting to wet his parched throat, before he began, “I can expla—“
“Why are you hard?” Mydei interrupted.
Phainon’s mouth hung open. Then closed. Opened again, and closed.
“In all fairness,” he rasped, “I’m not fully hard. Halfway there at best but even that might be a bit of a stretch.”
Mydei was unamused by the pedantics. “Then why are you aroused?”
“Yes, that would be the better way to phrase that question.”
The twitch at the corner of Mydei’s eye was Phainon’s one warning. Mydei dropped his bags to the ground and closed the distance in one long stride, like lion that had grown bored of the hunt and was now ready for the reward of the finishing blow, and cupped Phainon through his trousers.
A moan was startled from him, hips bucking into the firm hold more punishing than pleasurable. There was a point being made by the tight squeeze of Mydei’s clawed gauntlets, something that should have been a threat but only made Phainon’s next moan louder, as his thoughts fell silent beneath the blood roaring disbelief in his ears.
“Tell me,” Mydei drawled, face so near his breath broke hot across Phainon’s jaw, lidded eyes darkened by his pupils. He squeezed and Phainon feared his claws would pierce the seam of his trousers but couldn’t object through his gaping mouth. “Or I’ll leave you here just like this.”
His stomach plummeted. At the threat, at the humiliation, at the promise of something better if only he was good and did what he was told. A strained noise stirred through his chest, enclosed behind his pursed lips, but Mydei heard it all the same and his lip curled to bare fangs.
Phainon was weak. To Mydei, for Mydei, because of Mydei. That didn’t scare him like it once did.
“When you grabbed me,” Phainon finally, hoarsely admitted, playing at a calm both pf them knew he didn’t possess. “My coat. And dragged me around.”
Mydei shoulders hitched with a faltering breath but his face remained placid, disciplined, as he leaned in. Soft lips grazed Phainon’s cheeks, skin tingling, where Mydei murmured, “Good boy.”
A pathetic groan broke from Phainon’s chest as his hand darted down to grab Mydei’s wrist, desperately holding him in place for Phainon to roll his hips into the loosened hold that offered a little friction but not much more. Never mind that Mydei could wrench his hand free with little effort.
“You enjoy it?” Mydei goaded him on, heady eyes holding Phainon’s own captive, ignoring Phainon rutting into his palm between them like it was their dirty little secret. “Knowing I can handle you without even trying.”
“Yes.”
He was honest and good and yet Mydei pulled away. He hadn’t been close, not at all, but he still whined at the sudden loss. Mydei was remorseless as he hooked a finger into the bags over Phainon’s shoulders, pulling them down and away to the floor.
“Then turn around,” Mydei commanded, unbuckling the strap of his gauntlets around his forearm. A shiver arced down Phainon’s spine but he was too slow to act because Mydei tilted his head. “Unless you want me to make you.”
Stiff but obedient, Phainon turned to face the wall. The stone wall of this public alleyway so close to the busiest marketplace in the city.
He didn’t remind Mydei of that.
The scrape of metal echoed off the stone as Mydei’s gauntlet hooked the rings at Phainon’s back and toyed with them, tapping out a methodical rhythm, contemplative like Mydei had much to consider when he was really just leaving Phainon to suffer with his thoughts. To wait with bated breath and a heart pattering in time with the metal clink for the moment Mydei’s self-restraint wouldn’t quite break but would certainly bend.
And bend Phainon’s body with it. A sharp yank of both handles knocked him off-balance even easier than the sweep of Mydei’s legs taking Phainon’s feet from under him on the sparring grounds. Except Mydei didn’t want him in the dirt and a hand splayed across his lower back, pressing with the silent command that Phainon bend rather than fall to Mydei’s whims and his own desires.
They were on the margin of public view, he had dinner to cook for tonight, his trousers were uncomfortably tight. But he wet his lips and his hands near imperceptibly trembled as he leaned forward to brace his hands on the wall, feet shoulder-width apart and back dipped in a small arch. It was a mortifying position but the heat of humiliation was still heat and it tinged his cheeks, staining its way down his chest to his stomach where sparks and embers were gathering.
Metal clattered and he could just about strain his eyes to glimpse the bronze flash of Mydei’s gauntlets discarded atop a stack of crates. The pressure of Mydei’s bare hand landed at his nape, where his pale hair doubtless made his blush even more apparent, before it dragged over the hump of his back.
His clothes muted the sensation but the long caress was too much—gentle yet domineering without being overbearing—to hide. His fingertips followed the notches of his spine, counting them like each had Mydei’s name engraved upon it, as though he was merely taking stock of his belongings. His skin burned where Mydei traced down the valley of his spine, knowing without direct contact that Mydei’s palms harboured the heat of the forges swelling to the deceptively supple surface.
That wandering hand slipped beneath his split coattails to palm his ass and he choked but wasn’t given any reprieved to catch his breath before Mydei’s hand rounded to his front where he cruelly grazed the obvious bulge on his way up to Phainon’s hips. Pale, slender fingers unlatched his belt and it probably reflected poorly on them both that Mydei was practiced enough to undo the thing with one hand but Phainon, head dropped between his arms, watched his dexterous fingers without complaint.
The ever present daylight guaranteed temperate days but the warm air hit Phainon’s bare skin and he shivered down to his fingertips. He dug into the worn stone like that grip could hold together his sanity, his dignity, as he let Mydei drop his trousers at the end of a public alleyway. Not all the way, thankfully, but more than enough to class as indecent exposure. The shame of standing in the dikasteria, before the council, if someone found them and this spiralled into an incident did absolutely nothing to dampen the lust that sent his rationality and blood spiralling.
The proof of it sat heavy in Mydei’s hand, length flushed and head glistening as Mydei pumped him from base to tip just to tease him, thighs tensing and toes curling, before he let go. Phainon bit his lip as the weight bobbed between his legs, abandoned to the air that made his shoulders tense beside his ears. He wasn’t usually this sensitive and there was no reason for him to be so high strung after the morning’s events.
The hand at his back pressed harder but Phainon’s back didn’t bow any further. That wasn’t what Mydei wanted as he swayed closer, hair and body heat tickling the back of Phainon’s neck while Mydei’s murmur reddened the shell of his ear, “Focus on me. Nothing else.”
Despite his stomach clenching at the combination of haughty and gentle that came to Mydei so naturally, Phainon loosed a short laugh. “Is it my fault if I still have enough of a mind to let wander?”
This time, when Mydei’s hand pressed, it was disobedience that kept Phainon from bending to Mydei’s physical command to submit and present himself even more than he already was in such a compromising position. One that left him little recourse when Mydei, with the brutal precision of a jab meant to debilitate him during a spar, shoved his fingers down his throat.
Phainon’s head reared back at the sudden intrusion but he thrashed right into Mydei’s immovable body. He was pinned in place as Mydei’s fingers hooked into his mouth, revoking his right to speak after such a comment insulting Mydei as inadequate. The initial instinct to move, to fight back, was quelled by Mydei’s scent in his nose and the taste of it upon his tongue as three fingers punishingly curled to hold it down. He suppressed the urge to gag. A moan low in his chest escaped instead.
“My mistake,” Mydei said, believing none of it. “I won’t be making it again.”
He released Phainon’s tongue but didn’t remove his fingers. Spit dribbled from the corner of his mouth to wet his chin but Phainon didn’t whine or struggle or split Mydei’s flesh with his teeth. He breathed, half through his nose and the rest through his gaping mouth, and waited.
Mydei hummed approvingly and rewarded him with a kiss to the soft spot behind his ear. “Better. Get them nice and wet.”
His eyes flicked to his peripheral vision but he couldn’t catch Mydei’s eye from this angle. That brief hesitation was loud enough and Mydei’s fingers spread, hitting Phainon’s teeth, his upper palette, claiming the last of the space as his own in one very familiar motion meant to stretch Phainon open.
“Where else do you expect me to get anything decent to slick you up with. This is the best you’re getting.” A playful nip of his ear between sharp teeth. “Now get to work.”
Phainon exhaled, long and hard and shaking all the way, before he threw himself into his task. He flicked his tongue up Mydei’s fingers, curling around each long, uncalloused length. They were lavished with the same attention he would give Mydei’s cock whenever he was given the honour to have it—as impressive as the rest of the body it was attached to—in his mouth. Such enthusiasm earned Mydei’s ragged breaths against his nape between short kisses and nips as his reward.
When Mydei reclaimed his fingers they were shining and stringing with the same spit dripping from Phainon’s mouth to the ground below, joining the arousal spilling from his neglected cock. This was hardly even the beginning of everything he hoped Mydei would do to him but his mind was already hazy as his body ached all over, soreness and anticipation winding his muscles taut.
In fairness, that wasn’t entirely from sucking Mydei’s fingers.
Mydei’s hand settled over the curve of his ass and squeezed, so hard that Phainon released a trembling sigh, before he tugged him apart to expose his rim to spit-slick fingers. Two sank in without resistance down to the second knuckle before Mydei withdrew them and shoved three down to the base.
Phainon’s head bowed and he cursed. Such a sudden intrusion smoothed by nothing but his own saliva should have burned and jabbed a quiet, pained yelp from his lips; one that Mydei would apologise for with a tender kiss to his temple before slowing the pace. Yet his body accepted it easily, greedily as he clenched around Mydei’s fingers every time they left him empty even though he knew they would return in an instant. All because…
“You’re still loose from this morning.”
This morning when Phainon had woken first and needed all of two heartbeats to realise he should take advantage of the rare occasion. He worked himself open and Mydei stiff so he could rouse his lover from sleep by such a pleasant surprise. Phainon’s pride at the surprise and awe in Mydei’s eye had led to a thoughtless challenge over who could last longer. Since Phainon had lost that round, and the two rounds after that, he had been delegated to dinner duty for tonight.
Phainon grit his teeth and mustered as much composure as he could manage. “How fortunate. Then lets—“ Mydei pressed his fingers against his walls and spread him open. His arms quivered and he bit his lip against a moan, cock spurting a few pathetic drips to the ground, as he waited for the jolt of pleasure to pass, “—lets finish with the warmup and move onto the main event.”
That was Mydei’s cue to remove his fingers and replace it with something longer and thicker. But he twisted his wrist and curled his fingers lodged down to the base. “Why the rush? Afraid someone will stumble across their precious Deliverer with his trousers down begging for some relief?”
Phainon’s stomach tightened so fast a breathy whine escaped before he could stop it. Not that it mattered. Even if he stayed silent, Mydei would have known his true reaction from the sudden clutch around his fingers, like his body was begging Mydei not to leave until such a depraved fantasy became reality.
“Then,” Mydei said and left Phainon achingly empty for the single breath before the blunt head of his cock nudged at Phainon’s rim, “you better keep yourself quiet.”
It was an impossible task with Mydei opening him up, larger than his fingers in every way and so much drier. His rim burned as he was pried open by the unforgiving stretch. Slow and inescapable. His toes curled into his shoes and his nails chipped against the stone wall as he breathed, ragged, through his nose lest he open his mouth and let loose a noise too loud to reclaim.
They were roughly the same size—Phainon had measured in a jest that ended with them frotting together until their mutual release stained the golden waters of the Hero’s Bath, which they had been forced to scrub clean in the aftermath—and Phainon had taken Mydei too many times to count. Yet the pleasure wracked through his body in tremors like it was the first time, as though his body could possibly forget the sensation of Mydei coaxing out a willing surrender. The Era Nova would fail to take the memory from him, let alone a few scant hours.
His lashes fluttered, eyes hazy, as Mydei’s hips bumped against him. His lungs burned in spite of the harsh breaths through his nose and his entire body was flush with the heat cascading from his scalp to his tingling toes. It was a relief when Mydei’s chest lifted from his back. He was still suffocating in too many clothes but the near oppressive weight, solid muscle and heat, let him breathe as easy as could be expected when Mydei was lodged so deep inside him.
“I’m going to start,” Mydei had the curtesy to warn him and wait for Phainon’s objection.
He didn’t dare let go of his lips long enough to reply so nodded—a futile effort when the first thrust jolted out a cry. He cut himself off with his teeth sinking into his lip, tasting iron on his tongue. His reticence lasted until Mydei pulled out and circled his hips, teasing him with the tip, before plunging back in to the base without a care for Phainon’s struggle to keep his voice down.
The alleyway echoed with the slap of skin, barely muffled by their clothes that were more on than off, but Phainon couldn’t snark Mydei’s warning back at him: he was too busy biting his lip bloody. It was too deep. He started slow but building speed with every thrust as Mydei re-familiarised himself with the rhythm that he knew would make Phainon scream himself hoarse.
Mydei knew exactly how much Phainon enjoyed himself because the evidence soaked their sheets through to the mattress that would need replacing again. It was knowledge Phainon, obviously, had no qualms about Mydei using against him, reducing him to a mindless mess that chased sensation on instinct alone.
But that was usually within in the privacy of their homes. Their beds. Not in an ostensibly public sidestreet.
Mydei was being mean to him. If he harboured any doubts then it was proven by Mydei skimming so tantalisingly close to the bundle of sensitivities that would seize his body with pure pleasure. Only to miss it time and time again.
Head hung between his shoulders, watching his cock bob with every thrust driving him forwards, he sobbed, “Mydei.”
Too loud. He knew it but he couldn’t take it back and didn’t regret it either. The faster Mydei was kind enough to let him reach release, for them both to finish, the faster they could leave without getting caught.
Mydei grunted. “What? What happened to being—“ a sharp thrust and grind of his hips and Phainon keened, “—quiet?”
“Let me… let me come. I’ve been good, Mydei.”
He scoffed. “You consider this good? After you got hard in the middle of the marketplace? And now you’re screaming like you want the whole city to see you for themselves.”
His head was heavy and unwieldy when shook it, and his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond his need for the release that was close—he knew it was—if only Mydei would give it to him.
“Mydei,” he panted before he even knew what he was about to say. “Cruel.” Some small part of him realised that was the exact wrong thing to say but his muscles spasmed beyond his control and his mouth was no longer his own when he whined, “You’re so cruel.”
Mydei’s hand slid from the small of Phainon’s back. Not far. A little ways to the side. “That’s how you like me.”
And he yanked Phainon backwards by that damned handhold into his next thrust. He slammed into Phainon’s prostrate and his eyes rolled back as the tension strung tight through him released in a rush passed his roaring ears.
He blinked, coming back to himself only to almost lose hold again when Mydei buried himself to the hilt again and again. He hadn’t stopped when Phainon splattered the floor and wall white. He didn’t even slow when Phainon whimpered with every thrust his pliable body was forced to meet.
His throat hurt. He must have been loud but it was difficult to care when Mydei single-handedly pulled him back to meet every harsh plunge. There was nothing for him to do but stand there while Mydei manoeuvred his body to take the rough snap of his hips, and knowing that tossed new kindling onto the lingering embers of the fire that had flashed through him and should have completely burned out.
Every rock backwards lifted Phainon’s hands from the wall no matter how he ignored the twinge of pain and scrabbled to dig his fingers into the stones. His legs could hardly compensate; they were still weak from his orgasm and quivered on the brink of collapse.
A particularly harsh jab at his prostrate and his knees finally buckled. He would have to catch himself against the wall before he hit the ground.
Except he stalled in mid-air, coat constricting around his ribs and waist as he was caught by something. Stretched from his shoulders to his fingertips, he could just about graze the wall in front of him but it contributed nothing to his balance. It was completely gone; the only thing keeping him on his own two feet was Mydei holding him by both handles.
“Hold on,” Mydei said, voice deeper than usual, so low and sensual that it drowned out the incredulous Hold on to what? circling through Phainon’s head while his tongue was too heavy to speak.
The answer came as his coat pinched his torso tight and stole his breath away in a thin wheeze. By the time he realised that he was being lifted, his weight was tipped forwards to slap his hands against the wall, taking so little of his weight it was inconsequential to the way his feet dangled off the ground.
His body—moulded into the form of a warrior, of a hero, who shouldered the hopes of the entire city dreaming of tomorrow. Strong and sturdy with muscles honed for use and not just for show despite the unmistakable silhouette of his tall stature and wide shoulders—was held suspended in the air by Mydei’s two hands.
If Phainon hadn’t just found release, he would have unravelled then and there.
He loved Mydei for many, many, many reasons. From the soothing tenor of his voice to his unyielding tenacity, his equal dexterity with a weapon and cooking utensils, his competitive streak to match Phainon’s own. And, of course, his body. Not only because it was forged from steel that could cut away even the Hand of Shadow but because of how much effort Mydei put into tempering it. His self-discipline gave shape to his defined biceps that Phainon couldn’t see but he knew how the muscles flexed and the blood vessels bulged from the surface when he was putting them to use.
This position was beyond ridiculous. His entire body swayed with Mydei’s testing thrust, a mere shallow pump of his hips that forced Phainon to clutch the stone and brace his arms as best he could before he slammed into it. If Mydei’s strength wavered for the briefest moment then Phainon would hit the wall face first and crumple to the floor. Yet Phainon’s softened length twitched with interest and his mouth dropped around a moan as Mydei began again in earnest.
The angle, as awkward as it was, should have been worse than the one before but every wild snap of Mydei’s hips, no doubt leaving bruises on the exposed strips of Phainon’s pale skin, made his fingers scrabble for purchase as he breathed hard and fast, interspersed with embarrassing noises hardly stifled.
He was still sensitive from his first orgasm but the oversensitivity thrown in amongst his pleasure wasn’t the reason he writhed, realising the futility of it and doing it anyway, before Mydei slammed Phainon backwards to meet him.
It was the sheer, raw strength that spurred his desire. He wanted more. To be more vulnerable, more helpless. Like nothing he wanted mattered as he trusted Mydei to take his pleasure from him. All the while knowing that Mydei wasn’t selfish enough to leave him unsatisfied. That he could destroy him, ruin him, over and over while Phainon begged again and Mydei would do it and tenderly hold him afterwards.
“Phainon,” he ground out with a strained grunt, “you’re going to snap me in half.”
With most of his blood stiffening him up between his thighs and the rest draining to his head, the idea made Phainon laugh. Weak and reedy. Even those weak puffs of air made his stomach ache but that just elicited a few more breathless giggles.
He was delirious with the rush of blood and pleasure coursing heady through him, curling his fingers and toes as increasingly desperate and incoherent noises were punched straight out of him. Belatedly, he realised he was drooling all over the mess he had already made on the floor.
Mydei’s measured movement became sloppy, losing his rhythm, but his grip on Phainon remained steadfast for the last few thrusts. The final one was slow but deep, settling all the way before he ground a harsh circle with his hips and hit a spot that made pleasure seize through Phainon’s hanging limbs. He clenched around Mydei so tight that he finished with a guttural groan, louder than Phainon’s overstimulated whimper, and a heated pulse trickled down into Phainon’s stomach.
For one long moment, neither of them moved. The alleyway fell silent except for their ragged breaths.
“Don’t struggle,” Mydei said hoarsely by way of warning.
Phainon made an unintelligible noise of agreement. Struggle was beyond him when his limbs were still quivering in the aftermath.
His body swayed as Mydei readjusted his grip and then lifted, betraying the effort behind the act with a grunt. At least some of the burden was alleviated from Mydei’s arms and knees as he turned Phainon to rest his back against the wall, seated on Mydei’s arm. Face-to-face, there was no hiding how affected they were.
Mydei was always quiet in bed, reticent until he was overwhelmed by the heat and passion that told him to cast aside such restraint. But his face gave way much quicker, always so expressive now that Phainon knew where to look: eyes dark through his low lashes, a smug curl to his bitten lip, hair stuck to his glistening damp forehead, face flushed with more than exertion.
That look on his face—proud and satisfied but not even close to content, the blatant hunger promising more to come—sent a shudder down Phainon’s spine and his walls clenched. Mydei was still inside him and they both breathed at the sensation, air mingling in the narrow space between them that was still too much.
Phainon cupped Mydei’s jaw in both hands and coaxed him into a kiss. A slow one to make up for all the kisses they couldn’t share until now. His lip stung where he had punctured it with his own teeth and a small sound reverberated at the back of his throat before he was soothed by a long drag of Mydei’s tongue.
Mydei pulled away but Phainon didn’t let him get far, holding Mydei in place so he could tip their foreheads together. They were so close he could see the subtle shift in Mydei’s tattoo as his eyes crinkled at the edges, softening as they reflected the vast blue of Phainon’s eyes blended with the gold of Mydei’s own.
Phainon nibbled his lip just to watch Mydei’s eyes flit down and back up again. There was no way for that little movement to go unnoticed when Phainon’s whole view, his entire world, if only for now, was Mydei alone. But his smile turned victorious and haughty and Mydei huffed through his nose but was too fond to be truly disgruntled.
The same tenderness graced his fingertips as he cupped Phainon’s chin in a faint touch that enticed him into another kiss without force nor resistance. It was merely a gentle guide for the inevitability of them coming together again.
Then Mydei’s hand dragged over his throat, his clavicle, all the way down his chest and stomach in featherlight touches. His hand turned firm when it wrapped around Phainon’s cock that had hardened throughout Mydei’s show of overwhelming strength.
He shuddered out a quiet moan but Mydei shushed him while daring to watch, eyes brimming with an affection Phainon would happily drown himself in. His legs clamped shut around Mydei’s waist and his brow furrowed as he spasmed around Mydei’s softened length. He wasn’t full but it kept him open and that was somehow worse for his self-control.
He tossed his head back as Mydei gripped him tight in a twisting upstroke. His head hit the stone but the sharp burst of pain was inconsequential with Mydei thumbing at his slit. As a second round of pleasure spread its way through his weak limbs, he gazed up at the tall buildings on either side, leaving a narrow strip of a cloudless sky overhead, and suddenly remembered they were still outside.
He sealed his lips over his teeth to suppress any more unruly noises but Mydei latched onto the exposed underside of his jaw, scattering kisses that would certainly bruise.
So much. Too much. Yet not enough to get Phainon’s oversensitive body to the edge Mydei wanted him to fall over.
Their bodies were already flush but his legs tugged, arms thrown over Mydei’s shoulders, like they could get closer still. He skimmed over Phainon’s cheeks up to his temple, baring his neck right beneath Phainon’s nose. The potent scent of debauchery, of the two of them reduced to hedonistic instinct, made Phainon’s head spin.
“Good boy,” Mydei purred right in his ear and his eyes fluttered shut before Mydei’s hand had the chance to stroke him in earnest. “You’ve been good for me. Perfect. Now come, Phainon.”
The command was issued with a hot, wet drag of Mydei’s tongue over the shell of his ear. His body seized and his eyes gazed at the open sky rolled back as he cried out—too loud. Too needy. Too broken—before it was muffled by Mydei’s hand. Big but soft. Hot enough to sear its shape over Phainon’s agape mouth. Smelling and tasting of Mydei.
He released in thin spurts and his eyes prickled, world blurring until the details were lost in Mydei’s shape and colours staring back at him. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he sobbed, stomach and lungs protesting at the effort but he couldn’t contain the jagged noises cutting their way out of his hoarse throat.
He was silenced by Mydei’s lips claiming his own in another demanding kiss, tongue plunging into his open mouth where Phainon instinctively pushed against him, meeting him halfway. Even now, they sloppily competing and a groan reverberated from Mydei’s chest straight into Phainon’s mouth, mingling with his weak mewls.
While Phainon absentmindedly suckled and nibbled on Mydei’s bottom lip, the debilitating onslaught of sensation passed. His damp lashes clung together as he opened his eyes, meeting Mydei’s gaze already fixed, unblinking, on him.
He smiled, bashful at the state he was in and the intensity with which Mydei witnessed it, but tightened his arms flung over Mydei’s shoulders to bring him that little bit closer. He had earned a good look when it was his efforts that had reduced Phainon to a red, teary, drooling mess. Besides, Mydei had certainly seen him much worse than this but that look in his eye never changed.
“You should ravish me like this more often. Good strength training,” Phainon bluffed that last part, as lightly as he could when his throat strained even at the lowest, gentlest tone he could manage, and pinched Mydei’s deliciously bare, flexed bicep as a bonus. “I wouldn’t mind being at your disposal if need be.”
Mydei hummed and removed his hand still closed around the head of Phainon’s cock. He had done a remarkable job keeping them both clean and flicked his hand to the side, letting Phainon’s release splatter to the ground.
Not all of it. Some stubbornly clung to Mydei’s hand, running towards his wrist and stretching between his splayed fingers, but he simply dragged his tongue up his palm to his fingertips. And he knew how the sight made Phainon stir.
His bright eyes languidly blinked and opened half-lidded. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”
A thrill shivered through him at the promise of another encounter just like this and Mydei saw right through Phainon’s magnanimous act, eyes sharpening and his smirk no doubt the same where it was hidden behind his hand.
“Put me down,” Phainon said. This was too dangerous.
“Going back on your word?”
“Optimal training requires regular breaks. I thought you would have known that.”
Phainon squirmed in his hold but that wasn’t his best idea when Mydei’s length was lodged inside him, still soft thankfully, and Mydei’s arm propping him up flexed as his hand clamped down on his thigh to still him.
Before either of them could suddenly see the virtues of another round, Mydei lifted Phainon off him and the ground became even more of a mess as the evidence of their activities leaked out.
There really was no mistaking what had happened here and Phainon just knew he would hear complaints from various citizens who heard about such deviant behaviour that had occurred right beneath everyone’s nose. He would need to work on suppressing his blush. Assuming no one had heard or seen them and already spread such gossip through the city, as quick as embers spreading on a favourable wind.
Phainon’s legs trembled as he was returned to his own two feet, away from any conspicuous puddles. He was forced to steady himself against the wall while he wiped his mouth and Mydei pulled up his trousers and secured his belt. As though nothing had happened.
The proof otherwise trickled uncomfortably down Phainon’s thigh.
He stood to the side, giving time for his body to readjust to standing and aching, while Mydei grabbed their belongings from the ground. He also reclaimed his abandoned gauntlets and went to slip his hand inside but paused. His nose wrinkled and he tossed them into his bag.
“Come now, Mydei. You must do your part to shirk suspicion,” he teased because when was Mydei seen about the city without his gauntlets?
Mydei stared, unimpressed. “My hand is filthy.”
“So only I must suffer?” Phainon challenged with a pointed nod downwards where his skin was becoming terribly tacky.
Mydei snorted unsympathetically. “Consider it your punishment for your inappropriate reaction in the marketplace.”
“Excuse me?” Phainon uttered in disbelief. “And who found cause to enjoy themselves because of that reaction.”
“And who begged not to be left unattended to?”
“That—“ he cut himself off as the trickle reached halfway down his thigh. “That’s something we should discuss in private.”
Before someone came to investigate an argument and was exposed to so much more.
“Sure.” Mydei swept up all the bags of their purchases, carrying Phainon’s and his own towards the entrance of the alleyway. “You can defend yourself while you cook.”
“You expect me to stand in the kitchen after that? You were a brute, Mydei. My delicate flesh is tender and bruised,” Phainon argued as he waddled after him.
“I’m merely holding you to your word. You proposed the stakes with your own mouth.”
Another retort, more playful than scathing, waited upon his tongue to be loosed but they emerged from the alleyway and his jaw snapped shut before someone could overhear such crude remarks. There was no one around and Phainon breathed a sigh of relief.
“Fine then,” Phainon acquiesced and gazed at Mydei sidelong, meeting a suspicious squint. He grinned and leaned in close enough he could smell the aftermath of their activities on Mydei’s skin. “You’ll need the strength for your training later.”
Mydei broke first—colour rising to the tips of his ears while his eyes darted low and away again—which meant it was Phainon’s self-declared victory as he pulled ahead by several steps to hurry home. Once they ate a meal that Mydei would ultimately volunteer to lend a hand with, regardless of their supposed stakes, there would be nothing stopping them from continuing where they left off. This time without fearing interruption.