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Miles Edgeworth is turning the page of the latest Steel Samurai novelization. It’s truly riveting, and he’s just about to find out what happens to the Pink Princess’ dog, Mutton, when the book is tugged from his hands. A lovely set of hips situates themselves where the novel just was, and Phoenix Wright is suddenly sitting in his lap. He’s snaking his arms around Miles’ shoulders and nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck. Miles, shaking the stun of an abrupt Phoenix in his lap off, slides hands from hips to rest on the small of his back.

A soft kiss is pressed into his neck as Phoenix murmurs, “I missed you today.”


He shrugs. “You were gone by the time I woke up. Trucy and I missed you.” He pulls back and smiles. “But thanks for coming home at a regular time tonight.”

It had been something he’d been asked to maybe consider working on. Once the rings had been exchanged, and he took the title of father along with husband, he would need to maybe make a slightly more conscious effort for Trucy. She and Phoenix love him unconditionally, but there is nothing wrong with asking for some quality Papa time from the both of them. He did his best, keeping as much work at work and spending as much time as he could with his daughter and husband.

Phoenix kisses up his neck suddenly, and he stops to plant a nice, soft kiss on Miles’ lips. He leans in again, kissing longer and deeper this time. They pull apart for a breath. Miles lets his hands fall back to the other’s hips, leaning forward to chase after his lips. He gratefully settles back into the couch when Phoenix pushes forward. One hand pulls at his hair while the other cups his cheek. Phoenix moans when Miles bites gently on his bottom lip, and from there, it’s pretty much over.

They move so much faster now, their kissing becoming frantic and a little sloppy. It excites Miles to no end. Phoenix inches up a little more, fitting their hips together. Miles leaves those firm hips to squeeze at his ass. Phoenix nearly writhes into the touch, so he jolts forward. He must feel Miles’ growing hardness there, because he whimpers softly. The attorney resumes his forceful kissing, holding onto his Miles desperately. Miles feels like teasing, so he brings one hand to Phoenix’s groin and squeezes just barely at his obvious erection. The whimper from Phoenix is more pronounced this time. He interestingly enough doesn’t move at all from the touch; probably to keep the contact for as long as possible. Still teasing, Miles pushes his hips up against Phoenix, and he very much likes his resulting groan.

“Come on, come on,” Phoenix whispers in his ear, thrusting against him. He goes back to kissing him hard and fast, trailing kisses down his neck where he can reach the skin. He’s trying to dig his fingers under the cravat, which Miles hates when he does that. So he pushes his fingers away to unwind the cloth and pop the first few buttons of his crisp, white shirt. Phoenix goes immediately to the main event, pulling at the drawstring of his sweatpants and trying to force them down over his splayed legs. It’s fairly difficult for him to do.

Though they freeze in terror and shock at the sound of the front door being violently thrown open. Trucy is babbling about something, while Apollo responds indignantly. Phoenix has already flung himself off of Miles and settling a fuzzy blanket over both of them as Miles works to hastily button his shirt back up. The novel from earlier hits him squarely in the chest, while Phoenix slots himself against Miles’ arm, in what he probably thinks is a casual position. He’s just managed to set the book right side up and turn to a random page as Trucy bounds into the room. Their daughter throws her arms around both their necks and squeezes tightly.

“Come on, Polly!” she shouts. Her hat and cape have been flung off on the couch next to Miles. “We’re on a schedule here!”

“Well, if you’d help me with all your crap, we’d have more time.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works!”

She’s zoomed to the kitchen, and Miles knows she’s going to make a mess, and he furthers knows he’s going to have to clean it up when they leave. Apollo finally slams the front door shut after dumping Trucy’s equipment into the entryway and is grumbling as he stalks through the kitchen. But he spies his boss and the Chief Prosecutor of Los Angeles practically sprawled on the couch together.


“Hey, Apollo,” Phoenix calls in an impressively casual tone for someone who’s probably still erect.

He waves. “I heard you had a tough trial today, Mr. Edgeworth.”

Miles scowls a little, the memory of the difficult witnesses and annoying defense attorney, who this time around, was not his equally annoying husband, coming back in perfect detail. Phoenix eases himself off of Miles as he explains why the trial got out of hand in the first place. He is not afraid to admit he rather likes when Mr. Justice hangs on his every word.

Phoenix maneuvers the blanket off of him, but Miles is hopefully subtle in keeping it covering his waist. He stands and stretches. Miles manages to keep his distraction limited, still listening to Apollo speak about his run in with Blackquill that day.

“Uh, did you know your top buttons are messed up, Mr. Edgeworth?” he asks pointing at the offenders. His fingers instantly fly to them, and Apollo is certainly right; he managed to miss one of the holes in his haste earlier. He thanks him and fixes his collar and considers Phoenix’s punishment for getting him into this mess. But the terrible man is already sneaking through the room to join his daughter in the kitchen. Apollo watches him sidle past. He’s so perceptive that there’s no way he won’t know the reason for his boss’ bizarre behavior and flaming red blush and for Miles’ buttons.

Justice turns his head slowly to look at the prosecutor. His eyes go hilariously wide, and he swallows noticeably. He rushes to the kitchen, insisting he’s the better cook, stop it, Mr. Wright! Trucy wails a “Daddy!” and Miles hears a spoon clatter to the floor.

Phoenix trudges from the kitchen and leans over the side of the couch to mutter in Miles’ ear, “Later?”

“Perhaps,” he answers, not looking up from his Steel Samurai novel. Phoenix unfairly bites at his earlobe, hot breath ghosting across it, and Miles shudders. That nasty man kisses a sloppy kiss onto Miles neck before practically sashaying away. Miles has to stay under the blanket for a while longer.

Miles is relaxed enough another ten minutes later, so he joins his daughter and pseudo-son in the kitchen, washing the dishes as Trucy vigorously stirs their frighteningly orange pasta dinner. She is energetically talking about her day at school and what the magic show will be like today. Apollo interjects occasionally to protest what Trucy is going to force him to do.

Miles is roped into watching a practice performance after their dinner, with his daughter performing some of her trickier tricks. He adjusts his glasses and sits back, intent to maybe finally figure out her secrets.

When Athena comes by to get them, Miles is overly frustrated, still just as clueless for most of her tricks. He would certainly need to ask Apollo in secret, since the assistant would have to know most of them! He wishes them good luck, is chastised for not using “break a leg,” and then the house is blissfully silent. He sighs and puts his novel in a safe place before entering the study.

Miles was initially unsure about him and Phoenix sharing a work space. He needs near complete silence, while Phoenix is content to work with “I’M FINE!”s going on in the background. But they did well together, in the end. Phoenix’s desk is always an awful mess, but Miles ignores it at this point, happily sitting at his well-organized space.

The attorney is working at his computer, looking like a dork typing with his forefingers. He doesn’t look up at Edgeworth when he enters the room, as he clearly is lost in his work. Miles pushes down his disappointment, taking a seat at his enormous, meticulous desk. He gathers the rest of the day’s work he didn’t complete earlier in front of him, signing papers with a flourish and delegating duties as Chief Prosecutor. He had just reached page twenty-seven of twenty-eight when Phoenix stands and stretches. He’s squinting at his papers, flicking through them. Miles turns back to his work, obviously not going to watch Phoenix search through his papers.

But the fluttering grows more frantic, and Miles does look up. The man is swearing under his breath, looking concerned. He’s so careless that papers flutter to the floor. The document in question seems to be hiding under a bag of old pretzels and three full binders of old cases, and Phoenix shouts in triumph when he finds it.

“Oh my god, I was terrified for a second,” he mutters. The paper is tucked into his bag on the floor, safe and sound.

“If you would keep your desk neat and organized like mine, you wouldn’t have this problem.”

A mighty scoff. “Yes, Daddy…”

Miles is stuck reading the same word over and over, processing Phoenix’s words. That…shouldn’t turn him on as much as it just did. He drags his eyes up to stare at Phoenix, and the man doesn’t even know what he’s just done to him. That ridiculous jerk is still typing away, looking like E.T. and a caveman, with his confused look at the computer and his pointer fingers sticking up, poised to bang out the next word.

Miles tries to get past that one word, but he keeps thinking about…Daddy. How it would sound whispered in his ear. Or screamed to the heavens. Or moaned, filthy and foul as Miles fucked him into oblivion.

He slams shut his binder and stares down Phoenix.

“Say that again.”

He looks up. “What? Say what?”

Say it.”


“Say it like you mean it.”

He stands from his high-backed chair and strides over to Phoenix’s desk, bracing his hands on the wood and leaning forward. On the other side of the table, Phoenix looks a mix of terrified and aroused. He’s clearly thinking hard about something. Miles hopes it’s which sickeningly sexual moan he’ll cry out with first.

“Again, Phoenix,” he commands, impatient.

Phoenix stands and leans forward, lessening the distance between them just a fraction. It’s after a gentle bite of his lip and a sharp inhale that he finally breathes, “You gonna give it to me, Daddy?”

Miles Edgeworth is certainly going to fucking try.

He pulls on Phoenix’s t-shirt to drag him forward so he can kiss him hard. He feels and hears him moan into his mouth, and Miles can tell this is going to be amazing. Their kiss breaks, and Miles watches Phoenix literally climb up onto his desk and balance on all fours. He kisses Miles fast and sloppy. It’s all open-mouthed and utterly filthy, and Miles is sure he’s never gotten this hard this fast. This isn’t what he normally goes for. He’s often the sensual, romantic type, enjoying taking his time and giving Phoenix everything he begs for. Miles has been known to dominate in his sexual exploits before, but they are far and few between.

He knows Phoenix unashamedly loves it, though.

Their sex is more often than not competing for who will lose their goddamn mind first. Phoenix is better at relinquishing control than Miles, but that is not to say that Miles can’t take an order.

Phoenix arches his back as Miles moves to kiss down his neck, sucking hard in a few spots, yet knowing he can’t leave a mark. Wouldn’t dare leave a mark.

Phoenix pulls away and sits back on his haunches. God, he’s so hard through his flimsy sweatpants. Miles gets to watch Phoenix palm at his hard dick, sighing gratefully.

“Well, Daddy?” he asks slowly, squeezing himself slightly. “How do you want me?”

He considers the question. He knows his answer almost immediately. “I am going upstairs to get what we need. This desk will need to be clean; you’ll need to be naked and waiting for me, understood?”

The attorney practically falls off the desk as he tries to disrobe at lightning speed. Miles turns and glides from the room, acting casual until Phoenix can’t see him anymore, hoping to keep up…whatever persona he’s taken on for this. Then, he’s off like a bullet, quietly taking the stairs two at a time to burst into their bedroom. The lube of choice (warming, this time) is in the bottom drawer in their bathroom, and it’s a full bottle. He’s a little calmer as he descends the stairs, but he can feel his heart beating faster in anticipation for his gorgeous Phoenix Wright to be sprawled on his work desk, hopefully begging to be fucked.

The sight when he returns to the study is nothing but amazingly arousing. Phoenix sits on top of the desk, leaning heavily on his arms behind him, with his eyes closed and a blissful smile too. He watches Miles approach and stand directly in front of him.

Phoenix leans back further and spreads his legs, which is honestly still the most amazing view Miles has ever seen. Miles tries to think of something filthy to say, as he undoes his belt and trouser button. Phoenix stares, entranced.

“Would you like to earn your fucking today, Phoenix?” he finally settles on.

He moans and slips down to sit on his knees in front of Miles. “Yes, Daddy.”

He’s allowed to undo the zipper, and he oh so slowly curls his fingers around the waistband of both briefs and trousers. They’re pulled low enough that Miles’ hard cock is finally freed. His trousers fall to his ankles, so he takes a second to step out of them and kick them away. He feels vaguely foolish still dressed on top, underwear barely hanging on, and black socks covering his feet, but Phoenix presses a reverent kiss to the tip of his cock, and he’s not thinking of a lot else.

He licks long from base to tip. He’s certainly going to earn it today, he thinks, as Phoenix ducks down to mouth at the testes and pump his hand. But his eager mouth is back, kissing from head to base, licking from base to head, and then he’s swallowing absolutely everything he can. Miles sighs gratefully; there are few better feelings on this planet.

He strokes a hand through Phoenix’s hair and murmurs, “You’re so good to me, Phoenix.”

Phoenix responds with a thick moan, which vibrates through Miles entirely. He bobs his head quicker along Miles’ length in another response; his eyes flick up to catch Miles’ hazy gaze. He literally winks at him. Miles has to smirk at that, and he strokes lovingly on Phoenix’s head. He’s murmuring quiet praise of Phoenix, remembering how much he loves to be good for Miles. That firm tongue swirls around the head of his dick, while he strokes with his hand. There are so many sensations for Miles to focus on, and it’s so delightfully too much.

Miles chances a look downwards. The sight of his hard cock disappearing in and out of Phoenix’s smart mouth is absolutely perfect. Phoenix, expert and amazing as he is, takes Miles as deep as he can and moans around him.

“Yes, that’s it, Phoenix, yes yes, ahhh.” Miles jolts at the hand cupping his balls. He doesn’t recall the last time Phoenix so enthusiastically blew him. He lets Phoenix bob up and down a few more times, yet when he stops to suck at the sensitive head and tongue at the frenulum, Miles has to end it.

He cups Phoenix’s cheek in his hand and purrs, “You did very well, Phoenix.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

His thumb idly strokes along his cheekbone, and he asks next, “Would you like to be fucked now?”

Phoenix’s obscene moan and him sliding back up onto his desk and his legs spread impossibly wide are clearly supposed to be his answers. But Miles isn’t having that, today. Phoenix, as we all know, is a quick thinker, but he can rarely form words when Miles is on top of him. He must be so fucking ready if he’s just presenting himself for Miles.

“I asked you a question, Phoenix,” Miles states as he crowds up into Phoenix’s space. He pushes forward so that the man has no choice but to raise his legs and make room for him. Phoenix opens his mouth to respond finally, but Miles is quicker and thrusts his hips forward, grinding against Phoenix’s erection. With his mouth already open, the moan is so loud.

“Phoenix?” Miles questions, kissing at his nipples. “Are you going to answer me? Or do you not want to be fucked?”

“N-No!” Miles hums, kissing down further, and he’s at his stomach, so he feels the intake of breath as Phoenix begins to say, “Please, please fu-” He’s cut off again, the moan sounding vaguely frustrated as Miles licks him long and hard from perineum to tip. Miles feels a little bad for upsetting him like that, but he’s gotten an idea while he’s down there.

“Daddy, Da-ahhh!” The slap! that resounds has to be Phoenix falling on his back, arms giving out from the first tentative lick at his ass. Miles does him a favor and supports his legs by holding him up on the back of his thighs. Phoenix is going ballistic. Just as domination is rare in their sex life, so is rimming. No one is sure why, though, since it is one of the most amazing feelings either can experience. While Miles is down there, coaxing Phoenix open little by little, he fumbles for the bottle of lubricant and pops the cap. A generous amount is spread on his fingers, and he lets it start to warm as he slows down on Phoenix.

He can’t resist thrusting in with his tongue some, though. Phoenix practically sobs, and he brings his hands to clamp and scrabble at Miles’, which are digging into the soft flesh of his thigh.

Poor, poor Phoenix Wright has probably had enough at this point, so Miles kisses at his asshole once before straightening and getting right to business by giving the other zero time to recover and rubbing the warmed lubricant at his hole.

“Do you know your answer?” Miles asks, making sure to stop his fingers so he can answer.

“Fuck me, please, Daddy!” he all but shrieks, sitting up and grasping at Miles wrist, plunging the slick fingers into himself. He shuts his eyes tight and a tear leaks out of one.

Miles gasps, losing his mind at the feeling of Phoenix using him like that. He regains control immediately after, stilling him with a firm grip on his hip with the other hand. He scissors the two fingers and crooks them, knowing he’s going to hit his prostate every time and practically scream from it.

“God that’s enough, come on, please, Daddy.” Was there anything better than a begging Phoenix Wright? Not really. Miles always likes to take some time with slicking himself up, but he doesn’t bother with fancy motions or quiet moans. It’s a rushed job, the warming lubricant exciting him for what the actual unbearable heat of being inside Phoenix is like.

Miles Edgeworth, who apparently likes to be called Daddy while fucking, braces on the desk, which pushes Phoenix’s ass up higher, and so his calves are resting on Miles’ shoulders. He lines up his cock to Phoenix’s entrance and pushes in slowly but steadily. Phoenix practically writhes and arches as Miles fully seats himself, already trying to get the show on the road. The desk is just slippery enough from its glossy finish that he can fuck himself on Miles’ amazing dick.

But again, Miles takes the reins and slams in, already nailing his prostate from the get-go. Phoenix is practically crying at this point, and he can’t stop babbling and begging for more. It’s so fucking hot, and Miles can barely control himself as he’s instantly pounding into him. All of the amazing preamble leading up to the main event has been so overwhelmingly good, he doesn’t imagine either of them will last long. Though they both know that Phoenix can’t come untouched, so he plans on some brief torture. His thrusts are so rough and powerful that it’s a little funny to watch the rest of Phoenix’s body practically jiggle from the force of them.

“Do you want to come, Phoenix?” He isn’t sure why he keeps using his name so often. It feels right, though.

“Daddy, yes, can I please?” he cries.

“Yes, you may.”

One hand tweaks at his nipple and the other grips his leaking cock to stroke almost furiously. He’s probably been on the edge for some time now, judging from how he’s clenching around Miles and gasping out moans. Watching the man jerk himself off has always been an ungodly arousing sight for Miles, but he decides he wants to take over again. Phoenix will probably come faster if it’s Miles’ hand, to be honest.

He knocks away the man’s hand, ignoring his sob of protest so he can wrap his fingers around the base and pump just as quickly.

He’s coming almost immediately, screaming “Daddy!” over and over again. Miles loves watching his face. He always starts out with a long moan and cuts it off by throwing his head back, his breath stuttering. It is, without a doubt, the hardest he’s ever clenched down during an orgasm, and Miles starts to fall over the edge as he pulls out and uses the same hand that stroked Phoenix to grip hard on his own cock. His eyes squeeze shut as he jolts in his hand, coming onto Phoenix’s stomach, creating a bigger mess than there already was.

They’re silent, except for heaving breaths. Phoenix legs fall limply to hit the desk as Miles stumbles backwards to sit in the desk chair. He keeps breathing quickly to regain some oxygen so he can maybe speak again and apologize for whatever the hell just happened.

“Holy fuck,” Phoenix moans, sitting up. The semen on his chest starts to slide downward, but he catches it, and Miles has to watch him lick it off his hand. It’s painfully arousing, as he can’t even fathom ever feeling recovered enough to fuck again.

“Shower time?” Phoenix asks. He stands and slips just his sweats on, offering his hand to Miles. They’re quick to jump under the warm spray once they’re upstairs. It seems they’re both a little too tired to get anymore frisky in the shower, so it’s quick, with minimal stolen kisses. Miles dries off in the actual bedroom, slipping on some comfortable clothes.

He goes back into the bathroom where Phoenix is still drying off and says, “I’m sorry.”

Those deep blue eyes meet his in the mirror. “What? Why?”

“That was…uncalled for. Entirely inappropriate.”

Phoenix cinches his towel around his waist and approaches Miles, kissing him softly. “Mm, we both enjoyed it, right?” He smiles at the nod in response. “And it was wholly consensual, right?” Another nod and another kiss. “So I don’t think there’s anything to apologize for, Miles.”

“I…it wasn’t, hm, weird?” Miles asks once they’re back downstairs. Phoenix has gone straight to the fridge to pour himself a bowl of cereal. He always got desperately hungry after such a good fucking as that one.

“Why would it be weird? You know I’m happy to try any kink once, Miles.”

“No, is it weird that-” he swallows, dreading his next words, “that Trucy calls you…that?”

Phoenix starts to choke on his spoonful of cereal, but he recovers quickly to really consider the question. He eventually says, “No, that’s two different types of Daddies. I’m the lame dad joke Daddy, and you’re the…the…fuck me raw Daddy.”

Miles feels himself go red at the statement.

“Anytime you want that, Miles, I’m ready. That was some fucking amazing sex.”

They both still actually have some work to do, since Miles was one page away from being finished with his report. He sits down at his desk, but he notices Phoenix refuses to sit for a while, choosing to fix his desk back up again, back to its original state of horrible uncleanliness. He sits and opens his computer, but Miles doesn’t hear the click-clacking of his keyboard. Phoenix is staring absently at the top of his desk.

“I’m not really sure I’ll be able to get any work done here ever again.”