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“Seriously, you can just call and let me know you want to hang out, you know. You don’t have to make these contrived excuses,” Phoenix points out with a laugh. “You don’t have to make up cases.”
“It is a real case, Wright, with a real defendant that needs your help,” Miles says stiffly. “And get your shoes off of my coffee table.”
Phoenix grins toothily. He loves that little wrinkle that Miles gets when he’s annoyed at Phoenix but still happy he’s here. It happens more than Phoenix cares to admit.
“And it’s something you could have texted me about, or faxed me. Or just sent them my way without warning, which, y’know, is what you always do.”
Miles frowns again, more at his shoes than at him. Phoenix obligingly takes them off, standing up and stretching.
“Well, you have me where you want me, Chief Prosecutor. I’ll look at your case in the morning. For now, how about dinner? There’s this new Indian restaurant that opened up last week around the corner and their pav bhaji is fantastic.” Phoenix yawns. Miles stands up, work already put away, arranged in neat parallel rectangles of ever-growing paperwork. Clearly, he’d been expecting the offer. Phoenix snorts a laugh again.
“You really are ridiculous, y’know,” Phoenix says. “You never have a problem calling Maya when there’s a new convention in town, or Larry when you feel obligated to check that he’s not dead. Hell, you call Gumshoe when your floors aren’t shiny enough or there’s a book too high on the shelf and you can’t be bothered with a ladder! Speaking of, you should absolutely be paying that man more, I think he…”
There is an expression on Miles' face, one of quiet pleasure and content. It’s not an uncommon one for Miles, this look of simple joy. This time, though, something about it just makes Phoenix… stop. The pieces fall together, and the puzzle is suddenly a vividly bright picture screaming in his face. It’s a feeling he usually relishes, that moment when everything clicks together, but that’s in court . He expects the revelations in court. He hadn’t even known that there was something to piece together here.
“Oh my God,” Phoenix gapes from across Miles’s desk. From the corner of his eye, light glints off Miles’s stupid custom red and blue chess set. How the hell did it take him so long to realize?
“What?” Miles asks cautiously. “Already? You barely glanced at the case file. Please tell me this is something that benefits me. I have to say, that look of yours usually means bad things for me seeing as we’re usually on opposing sides of the council. I tend to have a sort of knee-jerk negative response to it.” His voice is light and teasing, wholly lacking the desperation Phoenix feels.
Phoenix closes his mouth. He opens it again. He closes it again. He had to be wrong, right? He had to be. But the dinners, and the trips to Europe, and the way he’d slip up sometimes and call him Phoenix…
“Wright, what? Spit it out already.” Miles crosses his arms, and he’d look mildly annoyed to anyone else but Phoenix can see the concern in the way he leans ever so slightly forward. There really is no other explanation.
“You’re in love with me,” Phoenix accuses, index finger pointing and arm outstretched. Pink colors Miles’ high cheekbones. Perhaps there was a better way he could have phrased that, but Phoenix had just been working on his instincts. And his instinct with new, life altering information is, as always, to point, shout, and make a fool of himself.
Miles, however, does not follow the script. He does not look like the villains on the witness stand, finally trapped. There is no ‘Graaagh!’ or ‘Ngoooh!’ There isn’t even a ‘Gurgk…’
Instead, Miles is as placid as ever. “Yes,” he says, drawing out the 'e'. He has a tone of voice that implies that this is an obvious statement. “You know this, Phoenix,” he adds.
“I certainly do not!” Phoenix is affronted. Insulted. Outraged, even. “What the hell gave you the impression that I knew that— that—”
“That I am in love with you?” Miles' eyebrow is arched, and he’s looking at Phoenix like he’s an idiot for being confused. Like it’s not a totally normal, valid reaction, which it absolutely is. Like Miles saying it isn’t doing a million funny things to his heart.
“That! Stop saying it! How would I know, you’ve never told me? And if I did, I assure you my reaction wouldn’t be to just… ignore it! Jeez, Miles, I’m not an asshole, y’know? Why would you just not,” Phoenix gestures wildly, unsure of the point he’s trying to make. “I dunno, why not just sit me down and tell me?”
“I did not think I would have to. I was under the impression that, considering your position as a relatively infamous defense attorney, you would have the mental faculties to piece the information together.” Miles sounds miffed. He’s also starting to talk like he’s a high school kid trying to meet a word count on his assignment, which means he’s feeling off-kilter. Well, good. Phoenix would hate to be the only one whose world has turned upside down. “After all, it doesn’t take a genius. You are the only individual who I consistently make time for despite my demanding job as Chief Prosecutor of Los Tokyo. Not to mention that I have chartered flights to meet you, and have flown you to Europe multiple times on my dime in order to consult you.”
“Objection! Firstly, infamous? Really?” Phoenix raises an eyebrow. Miles just sniffs like the child that he is. Phoenix continues. “Secondly, all that proves is that you hold me in high regard as a defense attorney, and that you enjoy spending time with me. You know, like a friend would. Your arguments regarding chartered flights and plane tickets hold significantly less weight considering the stupid amount of wealth you’ve amassed,” Phoenix points out. “And anyway, going back to my main point, which is why the hell wouldn’t you just tell me? Did you think my reputation would hurt you if we started dating or something? Did von Karma tell you you weren’t allowed to be in relationships?”
It’s Miles’s turn to gape at him. He blinks as he figures out the implications of what Phoenix had just said. “You’re… straight,” Miles finally says, slowly, like Phoenix is the stupid one.
“You have seen me in my bisexual T-shirt.”
Miles goes back to staring blankly. Phoenix sighs. “Y’know, the one with three flowers on the pocket? Pink, blue, purple?”
Finally, it comes together. The dawning horror on Miles’s face is delightful . However, the man is stupidly stubborn, and refuses to give up. “Hold it! I had no way of knowing you were aware of the significance of those colors together! Furthermore, considering your suit and tie are blue and pink, I had reason to believe you chose the shirt merely because these were colors you liked! Additionally, even if I was cognisant of the fact that you were bisexual, it would not necessarily mean that you were in any way attracted to me! Take that!”
Phoenix shoots him what he hopes is an unimpressed look, but he’s pretty sure it isn’t doing much to hide the giddy joy that he’s feeling. “Edgeworth. Miles . I changed career paths for you, a man who I had not seen since I was nine , because I wanted to talk to you. I would say that’s a pretty big fucking hint.”
“Hrngk!” Miles says, and it’s as satisfying to Phoenix as it is in court; that moment you know you’ve won. Then, because Miles is a sore, sore loser who refuses to admit defeat, he reaches across the desk to grab Phoenix by his tie and pull him into a kiss.
Phoenix… cannot bring himself to complain. This is one fight he's willing to (pretend to) lose. He knots one hand in Miles’s hair, which he has been wanting to do for forever. The other runs down Miles’s side and back, just… feeling him up. He’s sturdy, and his suit is soft, and Phoenix feels an absurd amount of pleasure from simply petting Miles through it.
Miles’ hands make their way into Phoenix’s hair. A minute later, Miles pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting their mouths. “That is a disgusting amount of hair gel,” he informs him.
“Shut up,” Phoenix complains and leans forward to kiss him again. He notes that Miles’ hands, for all his complaints, do not move from where they’re settled.
Phoenix feels a bit like laughing, or possibly crying. “We are so stupid,” he mumbles into Miles’s mouth. The man just grunts and tugs at Phoenix’s hair, tilting his face so he can lick deeper into his mouth. It’s a very good kiss, and it’s doing all sorts of funny things to Phoenix’s head.
The desk is digging into Phoenix’s hip bones, though, and Miles is far too far away. Phoenix attempts to scuttle onto the desk and is promptly pushed off of it, causing him to tumble down to the floor.
“Ow,” he complains. Miles peers down at him, concerned. “Sorry, paperwork. Ink. You…” Miles tries to explain, but he breaks off into a laugh. Phoenix would attempt to be annoyed, but Miles’s voice is so full of joy, so full of relief. Like all his dreams have come true.
“Sorry, sorry,” Miles says through chuckles, stepping around the desk and kneeling by his side. Phoenix presses a sloppy kiss to his laughing mouth, and Miles cups the side of his face oh so gently.
“We are idiots,” Miles agrees, and his eyes are alight and shining. “You look beautiful. Let me take you home, Wright?” He holds a hand out. Phoenix grins and grabs it.
“We haven’t had dinner,” he points out as Miles helps him up. Miles grips him by the shoulder.
“I say this and I mean it most emphatically, Phoenix Wright: fuck dinner .”
“I’d rather you fuck me instead,” Phoenix says, because he can never shut his mouth even when sober and Miles being so open and happy and swearing is intoxicating enough to be outlawed in every goddamn state in the world.
This ends with them making out against Miles’ bookshelf, and then his door, and briefly, against the door of the elevator that they do not take. Miles cops a feel of Phoenix’s ass as they make their way down the stairs and Phoenix considers the potential injuries he might sustain by engaging in stair sex and whether it would be worth the back pain. (It would. Miles could get fired, and that would be less worth it, but it's only a crime if you're convicted.)
They manage to keep their hands to themselves as Miles drives them to his stupid fancy condo in the stupid fancy part of town. Well, mostly. They make out at the red lights and Miles keeps holding Phoenix’s hand when he’s not shifting gears, but they still reach the place in record time.
Miles opens the door even with Phoenix hanging off him like a limpet. It isn't long before Phoenix has Miles pushed against the door.
“I have to feed Pess,” Miles says through desperate kisses. “Go wait for me in the bedroom? I’ll be right there.” Distantly, Phoenix heard barking; Pess must be locked out in the backyard. Phoenix mutters his assent into Miles' jaw, but it takes a few minutes to convince his limbs to actually walk away from Miles. Miles has soft hair and warm hands and he’s shoved a thigh between Phoenix’s legs that he can’t stop grinding into. It takes Miles physically pushing him in the direction of the bedroom to make him leave.
It’s only when he’s finally alone, away from Miles’ heady presence, that Phoenix can stop to think. About what they’re doing. What this meant. Are they moving too fast, are they being impulsive? But they’ve waited so long, and hell, they were practically in a relationship already. They’ve known each other forever, they meet thrice a week— hell, Miles is his daughter’s godfather! The only thing that would change is the sex, logically speaking. But he doesn’t want to push Miles into anything he’s not ready for just because he feels a little impatient.
He tries not to pace a hole into Miles’ carpet.
The door opens. It doesn’t creak, because Miles puts a meticulous amount of care into maintaining his things, even if his things are stupid things. Like Steel Samurai figures and satin magenta bed sheets and, well… Phoenix, now.
“Are we going too fast?” Miles asks from the doorway, clutching at the elbow of his blazer in that familiar nervous gesture. Phoenix notes that his glasses are gone. “We don’t have to. I am perfectly capable of reigning myself in.”
Phoenix breaks out into a grin, worries easing away. God, the two of them really are idiots. “I love you,” Phoenix says instead, and takes Miles’ hands gently. "So much. And I want…" He trails his hands up, up his arms, to his shoulders, cradling the back of Miles’ neck gently and watching as the man closes his eyes and leans into his touch with a breathy sigh.
"Yeah?" Miles murmurs. Phoenix tucks his thumbs under the collar of Miles’ jacket, pinching the edge and moving along it, bringing his hands to the lapels.
He then pushes the blazer off in one swift movement, watching delightedly as it lands in a heap on the floor. God, he's wanted to do that for a while.
“This suit is dry clean only,” Miles snaps, glaring. Phoenix rises to the tips of his toes and presses a kiss to the wrinkle between Miles’ eyebrows.
“And how do your dry cleaners deal with you constantly wrinkling the sleeves? You spend 90% of time in court clutching at your elbows, y’know,” he teases.
“You ought to be thankful for the habit. It’s either that or lobbing the nearest piece of evidence at your stupid spiky head.”
Phoenix laughs. “You’ve done the tossing thing with the spear already. Speaking of spears…” he wiggles his eyebrows, “I really wanna blow you. I’ve been dreaming of it for ages.”
“You are a ridiculous man.”
Phoenix looks at Miles expectantly. Miles sighs. “And I am just as ridiculous for obliging you.”
“Ah, but you are obliging me,” Phoenix points out as he drops to his knees. Miles scoffs, and Phoenix shouldn’t find that as attractive as he does, but he’s a man that’s been stupidly in love for a very long time. He reaches for the button on Miles’ trousers. Miles swats his hand away.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Phoenix. Shoes first.”
“Huh?” Phoenix says a little stupidly. Then there’s a leather shoe clad foot on his thigh, leaving a dusty footprint on Phoenix’s blue trousers.
“My shoes,” Miles reiterates. He's blushing, and refusing to meet his eyes. “You can’t expect to remove my pants without removing my shoes, they’d get dirty if you tried. And, as we established, this suit is dry clean only.”
If Phoenix had any blood left in his brain, he could have probably objected to the fact that Miles’ dirty shoes were now on Phoenix’s just-as-expensive suit, which was a little hypocritical. Unfortunately, his blood had all migrated south for the winter, and Phoenix was left to untie Miles’ laces with trembling fingers.
God, this was so hot. Phoenix was never going to think of anything else ever again. He informs Miles of this fact as he shoves the shoe off, and Miles ignores him in favor of placing his other foot on Phoenix’s thigh. Distinctly closer to his dick this time.
It takes twice as long to work the knots.
“Can I please take your pants off now?” Phoenix asks when Miles is left in his socks.
“Y— You may,” Miles says, undoing the trousers of his pants. He’s still in his shirt and waistcoat. Phoenix would prefer that Miles be completely naked so he can ogle him, but he’s too far gone to complain now. They’ll get there. Carefully, he hooks his fingers into Miles’ waistband and shoves the trousers down to his ankles. And then he stops. And stares.
Miles is wearing panties under his suit. Pink, pale pink, so pale it’s almost white, with this semi-sheer panel in the front and fucking… fucking frills at the sides. They frame his hips incredibly. Phoenix takes a second to mourn that he’s about to die before he gets to see Miles fully naked.
"Did you… plan on seducing me today, somehow? Was I manipulated into seducing you?" Phoenix says when he is finally able to speak. His tone makes it clear that he is very open to being manipulated by Miles.
"No," Miles scoffs. "Don't be absurd. Not everything is about you, Wright. If you’ll remember, I was under the impression that you knew about my feelings. I had no plans to seduce you, ever."
"That’s a shame,” Phoenix says, reaching out to touch. He grips Miles’ hips, thumbs at the ruffles. The material is surprisingly soft, not all synthetic-y like he expected. “Even if I were straight, these would change that. So, what, you just wear these everyday?" It was meant to be a joke. Miles remains pointedly silent and refuses to meet his eyes.
"Miles… Don't tell me you—"
"It's a matter of presentation! Of— of maintaining a consistent aesthetic!" Miles snaps.
"We can never face off in court again," Phoenix informs him. "I won't survive this. This is torture. I am going to die right here and I leave nothing to you and your murderous panties."
“You are being absurd.”
"No, pretty sure this is the normal response to seeing your crush in hot-as-fuck panties and learning that he wears them everyday."
Phoenix leans forward to mouth at Miles’ cock through his, jesus, through his fucking frilled panties. He’s probably being very sloppy, and wet, but the tight grip in his hair sure as hell doesn’t feel like a complaint.
"Not… everyday," Miles grits out. "I obviously have multiples. And some days… I wear blue ones."
Phoenix groans and pulls away. "You are literally trying to kill me," he states. He's starting to feel a little hysterical. He might actually pass out. "Do you wear the blue ones when you face off against me in court or something?"
Miles just tightens his grip in Phoenix's hair and pulls him back towards his crotch.
The tip of Miles’ cock peeks out through the top of his panties, and Phoenix sucks it into his mouth. He laves at it, then pulls Miles' panties downward, just enough to reveal the rest of his cock.
Phoenix has no gag reflex. It is not a particularly useful skill since he can think of only two uses for it, neither of which he tends to participate in all that often: swallowing glass and sucking cock. It’s a little depressing to note which of the two activities he’s actually done.
Still, he is incredibly glad for it as he swallows all the way down and hears the angelic sound of Miles Edgeworth moaning, a long drawn out thing that leaves Phoenix twitching in his pants.
“Wright, don’t— take it slow, don’t hurt yourself—” Miles attempts. His voice is broken up by pants and moans and Phoenix is so incredibly proud of himself. Jurist System who? This is his biggest achievement now.
Miles attempts to pull Phoenix off, gripping at his hair and tugging, but Phoenix is determined.
“F—fine,” Miles pants, hands settling to just scratch at his scalp instead. “Be stupid if you’d like. It’ll be great to go… go to trial without, haah, without hearing you scream objection every two minutes.”
Phoenix swallows around Miles’ cock. Miles keens . He’s trying so hard to hold back, it’s obvious, but his hips keep subconsciously twitching and his hands spasm in Phoenix’s hair every other minute.
Phoenix redoubles his efforts. Miles is too polite to actually fuck his face, so Phoenix is the one that has to do the moving and all the bobbing is making him ever so slightly dizzy. Or maybe that’s because of the lack of oxygen? He distantly realizes that drool is running down his chin, and yeah, that’s a little embarrassing, but it’s worth it for the sounds Miles is making. His voice is deep and husky, interspersed by gasps as he moans Phoenix’s name over and over.
Miles is breathing even heavier now, not even bothering with words, and Phoenix can tell he’s so close, almost there when his head is gripped firmly and kept in place, nose pressed against Miles’ crotch. Ah, so Miles realized he wouldn’t be able to push him away so he pulled him close. Smart.
“Phoenix, I will come right now if you don’t stop,” Miles says determinedly. “Pull off.” His hands are trembling against the sides of Phoenix’s face. Phoenix swallows again, just to protest. Miles moves to grip Phoenix’s chin, holding it firmly in place.
“What was the point of dragging you to the bedroom if you are determined to ma— stop that! —to make me come before we even get on the bed?”
Arguably, Miles has the upper hand here. Phoenix cannot move, and Miles is ensuring he can’t suck, either. He does have a tongue, though, so he’s damn well going to use it.
Miles cries out. “L—look, we’re still wearing most of our clothes. If the panties were such a surprise, imagine what’s— ah, what’s under the… under…”
Miles trails off, but Phoenix gets the gist. He attempts to pull off immediately, and Miles lets him go.
“No way,” Phoenix croaks out. Oh, Miles was so right, his voice was going to be fucked tomorrow.
Miles just smirks a stupidly smug smirk at him and tugs his panties back on before getting on the bed. Abandoning his trousers on the floor. The fucking hypocrite.
He then wraps a hand around Phoenix’s tie and pulls , dragging Phoenix onto the bed with him, forcing him to straddle his waist. Phoenix chokes a little along the way. His dick twitches in his boxers.
“You are impossible,” Miles says fondly, pushing Phoenix’s blazer off.
“For everyone else, maybe. For you, I am very, very possible. Easy, even.” Phoenix helps Miles along, obediently removing his jacket and tossing it off the bed. Even though he would much rather be stripping Miles to verify his claims.
As Miles loosens Phoenix’s tie, Phoenix pounces for the… the thing Miles deems is professional neckwear. It unties fairly easily, leaving him with a long strip of frills.
“This is the weirdest thing I’ve seen,” he informs Miles hoarsely. “I have looked up fancy neckwear just to figure out what you’ve been wrapping around your neck and this is not any of that.”
“Shut up. It’s a cravat.” Miles snatches the monstrosity from him.
“It is not. The way you tied it and the width, yes, but the frills are definitely not part of a normal cravat, it’s more like an ascot. Who did you get this from, the devil?”
“Would you rather analyze my clothing or get me out of it, Wright?”
Phoenix laughs. “Fine. But I’m coming back to this later.”
Miles just huffs, unbuttoning his waistcoat. If the goal was to get Phoenix back on track, it works very well.
After a great deal of meandering, kisses and touches interspersed with insults, Phoenix manages to rip Miles’s shirt off of him.
“You lied to me,” Phoenix accuses. Miles shoots him the same look he gave him when he updated that stupid autopsy report.
“Misdirected, maybe. I did not outright state anything, didn’t even finish my sentence. It isn’t my fault if you came to the wrong conclusion.” Miles says this as he strokes down Phoenix’s front, tracing the v that leads into his trousers. Phoenix’s eyes slip shut, briefly distracted.
Then the sentence actually registers. “Wh— hey! Wilful misdirection counts as lying, you know? I find you guilty, Prosecutor Edgeworth!” He pushes Miles down onto his back, crawling over him.
“Oh? And should I fail to make an appeal, what would be my punishment?” Miles strokes his hands down Phoenix’s neck and shoulders.
“Fulfill your promises, Edgeworth.” Phoenix whispers, brushing his lips against Miles’ cheekbone. “Implied or otherwise.”
“That… ah, that can be arranged. If your Honor would personally take the care to verify, I could…” Miles trails off as Phoenix noses down his jaw, then clears his throat and continues. “I could acquire the required garments and be prepared for inspection by next week.”
“Good,” Phoenix murmurs lowly, pressing a kiss to Miles’ pulse point. “See to it that this is done. Or there will be consequences.” He moves his hands down Miles’ body and encounters the ruffles again.
“I’m gonna be honest with you, glad you didn’t take these off,” Phoenix admits. “I am very attracted to them.”
“Yes, well, I needed a layer of protection from your ravenous mouth.” Miles pulls Phoenix upwards, occupying the aforementioned ravenous mouth with his tongue. He wedges his thigh between Phoenix’s thighs, then pulls away to groan.
“Why are you still wearing pants, Wright?” Miles demands.
“Got distracted,” Phoenix mumbles, moving to kiss him again. Miles pushes him onto his back.
“Oh hoh, attempting to see me naked, Prosecutor Edgeworth?”
Miles sighs. This is the man he’s chosen to love. “You are infuriating,” he informs Phoenix, undoing and pulling his trousers off with no finesse whatsoever.
“I can’t wait to tell your tailor about the blatant disregard you are showing the pants that you paid for… Er, Miles, are you okay?”
“Hm?” Miles says distractedly. He strokes a hand down Phoenix’s thigh gently, transfixed.
“You’re… staring. Ogling, if you will.” Phoenix’s fall back for any and all situations, including embarrassment, is running his mouth. It has gotten him into a fair bit of trouble before. Now, though, Miles doesn’t even seem to register that Phoenix is speaking.
“You know how I’ve suggested that you get a driver’s license and start driving a car around? Never listen to me.”
“Oh. Ohh , you like the after effects of the biking, huh?”
“Mm, when you show up sweaty to court, not particularly. But like this…” Miles kisses the inside of Phoenix’s thigh reverently, and the electricity of the touch leaves him tingling all over. Phoenix tilts his head back slightly, eyes slipping shut. Miles kisses his way down his thighs, and up them, not intent on leading them anywhere as much just… Being.
Phoenix’s thighs tremble under the ministrations. Miles’ teeth scrape down just so, high up enough that Phoenix swears he can feel it in his dick, and he clenches his thighs around Miles’ head instinctively.
He immediately lets go, because the idea of— of keeping Edgeworth , Mr. Prim-and-Proper himself, in such a degrading position, has been a little beyond even Phoenix’s extensive imagination. Actually, now that he thinks about it, all his fantasies have mainly revolved around him serving Miles and not a lot of reciprocation. That will be a problem for future Phoenix, though, present Phoenix is far too busy enjoying himself.
“Sorry,” Phoenix murmurs, snapping himself out of his thoughts to peer down at Miles. Miles meets his gaze, lips parted, eyes ablaze with wanton heat.
“We will revisit that,” Miles states. “Turn over for me, Phoenix. I would like to thoroughly inspect the few positive effects your inability to pass the driver’s test has had on you.”
“You know, being nice is an idea you could try sometimes,” Phoenix snarks even as he complies. “‘Catch more flies with honey,’ and all that.” He pushes his face into the pillow; it’s cold against his blushing face.
“Very well. You have the most gorgeous ass that I’ve seen.” Miles runs a soothing hand down Phoenix’s flank and Phoenix might not be able to see him but he just knows the bastard is smirking. He just knows it.
“Embarrassed?” Miles murmurs, pressing a kiss to the base of his spine. Phoenix tries not to whimper.
“I’m not the man in frills,” he says defensively. Miles chuckles against his skin.
“You like the frills. Phoenix, you…” Miles sighs sweetly. The tips of his bangs are brushing Phoenix’s back and it’s doing things to him.
“What?” Phoenix croaks out.
“Have you ever bottomed?” Miles asks. “You seem a little hesitant. I don’t mind being the one on the bottom, if you’d like.”
“I, ah, I haven’t,” Phoenix admits, propping himself up on his elbows. “But…” he looks at Miles over his shoulder, “I’d like to. For you.”
Technically, Phoenix has never slept with anyone. He hadn’t been really ready in college, and neither had— nope, not thinking about her right now. After that, he'd met Miles again, and he'd never really been all that interested in going for someone else. Besides, he'd spent a near decade just trying to keep his head afloat for his daughter. He just hadn't had the time.
Phoenix knew what he wanted, though, knew his boundaries. And Miles is the type of person who places a lot of importance in concepts like virginity; telling him now would mean Miles would get all huffy about how it wasn’t ‘special’ enough and he’ll abandon him to purchase rose petals or red carpets or whatever else rich kids did on their prom nights. Hell, Miles already looks like he’s two seconds away from grabbing his phone and looking up ‘late-night express delivery bouquets’.
“Lube,” Phoenix reminds him. “And condoms, if you have them please.”
Miles is truly undignified as he scrambles for the bedside table. Phoenix laughs at him a little, and he hides it by shoving his face back into the pillow. This has the effect of putting his ass up in the air. He arches his back a little, just on instinct (and a little because his back hurt since he’s now aged, and all that bending and sucking took its toll).
He hears a clatter.
“Fuck,” Miles swears, and Phoenix snickers harder into Miles’ pillow. He hears more stuff clatter to the ground and moves his head to the side to watch Miles dive for the lube, taking everything on the nightstand with him.
Miles slowly crawls back up, blushing and refusing to meet Phoenix’s eyes.
“Shut up,” Miles murmurs, uncapping the lube. Phoenix snickers. Technically, he didn’t say anything, and he’s opening his mouth to protest when Miles presses his chest to his back, pressing wet kisses to the back of Phoenix’s neck. A worthy trade off for shutting up.
Miles pulls away again, maybe five minutes away, maybe ten; too soon either way. He presses a slick finger to Phoenix’s ass and Phoenix sighs breathing.
“Ready?” Miles asks gently. “This might hurt. It—”
“I know . I’m ready.”
“You know? I thought…?”
“I mean,” Phoenix squirms. “I’ve done this bit before. Just, y’know. On my own.”
“On—” Miles’ voice is shaky. He coughs, flustered. “Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. There’s a pause where not much happens beyond Miles gripping Phoenix’s hip with his unlubed left hand, force increasing with desperation.
“You’re picturing it.”
“Of course I’m fucking picturing it, Phoenix, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve pictured.” Miles pushes Phoenix back down from where he’d half propped himself up to tease him and mercilessly plunges his finger in.
“Fuck,” Phoenix gasps, breath punched out of him, equal parts due to being fingered and hearing Miles Edgeworth swear. “A little warning next time?”
“You like being kept on your toes,” Miles responds coolly. He’s still picturing it, Phoenix can tell; picturing him on his back, muffled whines as he tries to finger himself, cheeks ruddy and toes clenching. And now Phoenix is picturing Miles picturing it as he fingers him, and it’s this loop of I’m confused but horny and this is really hot.
“Another,” Phoenix demands.
“You’re beautiful,” Miles says and obliges, slipping a second finger alongside the first. “The way you arch your back into it, the way you push back… Phoenix . You’re so beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Phoenix hazily agrees, and tries not to sob and Miles’ fingers brush against his prostate. “That, please, more.”
Miles kisses up the back of Phoenix’s thighs as he works him open, and Phoenix gives up on not crickling Miles’ stupid silk sheets. He’s never going to be able to iron these creases out and Phoenix is beyond feeling sorry for it.
Miles slips in a third finger. Phoenix loses himself in the sensation. “Miles,” he moans desperately, and Miles twists his fingers again in the way that has Phoenix bucking his hips.
“Turn over,” Miles demands, slipping his fingers out. “I want to see your face.”
Phoenix complies, out of arguments for once. He turns over and immediately hooks his arms around Miles’ shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. Mouths at Miles’ jaw, the barely present stubble scraping wonderfully against his lips. Rolls the condom Miles brought down his cock slowly, lovingly.
It hurts, first, when Miles pushes in, but not as much as Phoenix expected. It’s more of an intense persistent stretch than pain. Still, Miles goes slow, and Phoenix shows his appreciation for it by biting down on the man’s shoulder.
When he pulls his mouth away, there’s a string of saliva connecting his lips to the bitemark on Miles’ trapezius. Phoenix is partly surprised he remembers the term from his anatomy classes back in art school, and mostly trying very hard to not come at the sight of his teeth marks on Miles’ skin.
Miles’ eyebrows are drawn close, and he’s clearly trying very hard to be patient. It’s adorable. Phoenix presses a kiss to his forehead and watches it smooth out.
“Okay?” Miles asks gently, bracing himself with one arm and raising the other to run through his hair. Phoenix is very aware of the wonderful things the pose does for the man’s bicep.
“Honestly? Better than I’ve ever been.” The pose is a bit uncomfortable, sure, he’s not as flexible as he used to be. And the feeling of having a cock up his ass isn’t particularly comfortable. But Miles is in front of him, beautiful, so close and lovely, and Phoenix has very little he’d complain about when faced with such a sight.
Then Miles starts moving and Oh. Phoenix gets it now. The pleasure completely dwarfs any discomfort he had, especially when Miles pulls him close, kisses down his throat, pants in his ear.
Miles is slow, like he’d expected him to be, but firm. Less gentle than Phoenix had imagined. He can’t say he doesn’t like it. As Miles grips Phoenix’s hips, shifts him a bit so he can fuck him deeper— yeah, he doesn’t mind it at all.
“God,” Phoenix pants. “I can’t… I didn’t expect it to be so… God!”
Miles kisses him indulgently, until he’s breathless and panting. Fucks him harder, faster, until Phoenix is heady with it. Pulling him close, kissing everything he can reach, crying out into Miles’ skin. All he can smell is Miles; his cologne, his shampoo.
“You’re perfect,” Miles groans, his voice low and rumbling. “And I love you, Phoenix Wright. So much. I’ve been wanting this for— for so long, to have you under me like this. Beautiful. Exquisite. You’re worth every second I’ve spent waiting for and more.”
“Unfair that you can speak like that,” Phoenix complains, letting Miles hold his leg and push it up higher. “I’m, I’m losing my mind down here.” He reaches down to fist at his cock and Miles pushes his hand away, takes over for him instead. Phoenix lets his head drop back on the pillow and lets out a throaty moan.
“So am I. Always, around you. You drive me insane, and yet somehow, you ground me too. You’re an enigma.”
Then Miles is shuddering too, and he’s hooking Phoenix’s legs over his shoulders, fucking into him like he’s never going to get another chance. Like this, Phoenix has his hips off of the bed and no purchase whatsoever to do more than moan and go along for the ride. He thinks he might be delirious with it. He thinks his brain might be leaving, forever, goodbye.
“Phoenix!” Miles’ eyes are half-lidded, and he’s pressing kisses down Phoenix’s ankle. His hand on Phoenix’s cock is erratic, but it doesn’t matter, because Phoenix? He’s already there.
“I’m gonna—” he warns, and then paints his own chest with cum. Whines out Miles’ name as the world whites out.
Miles makes a broken sound, rutting into him. Then he’s still, shuddering out Phoenix’s name, pressing desperate wet kisses to Phoenix’s face as he makes little aborted half thrusts through the aftershocks. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“I love you too. So much. God, Miles.” Phoenix might cry a little into the kiss, but who’s to blame him? He’s overwhelmed. The pleasure, but also the fact that they’re finally here . That despite the past decade he’s made it, and it was all worth it.
Bonus
“Y’know,” Phoenix murmurs.
“Hmm?” Miles shoves his face into the crook of Phoenix’s neck, smiling besottedly. He’s more than half asleep and the soft lull of Phoenix’s voice is carrying him the rest of the way.
“This was really…”
“Good?” Miles suggests, when it’s clear that Phoenix isn’t going to finish his sentence. He yawns into Phoenix’s neck.
“Yes, absolutely, of course it was good,” Phoenix says with a roll of his eyes. He runs a gentle hand through Miles’ hair. I am the happiest I have ever been, Miles thinks to himself .
“But, ah… How do I put it. Let’s just say I don’t particularly have a lot to compare it to. Even though, objectively, it was very very good, and I don’t plan on having anything to compare it to ever, I just feel like it’s the sort of thing you’d like to know. You’re weird like that, and—”
“Phoenix. I already know this was your first time bottoming,” Miles says. He may sound a little desperate. He’s hoping Phoenix will reply with something like ‘oh, I already told you? Sorry, haha, I forgot,’ and not—
“It is also my first time. In general.” Phoenix grins at him sheepishly. “Not my first kiss though!” He adds, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. “Well, the tongue was new, but kissing in general, I have definitely done.”
Miles sits up. Phoenix sits up too, and pats him soothingly on the shoulder. Like he’s just dropped his ice cream or something equally inane.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you? I was kinda looking forward to this reaction, not gonna lie.”
“I would have waited,” Miles bites out. “Or we could have— Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go slower? We could have absolutely gone slower. I would have waited forever if you needed me to.”
“I know, Miles. I wanted this as much as you did.”
“I would have been perfectly happy to be with you in any way you were comfortable with,” Miles reiterates despairingly. “I would have been just as happy as I am now even if we never engaged in coitus, ever.”
“Maybe just a little less happy than you are now?” Phoenix suggests, waggling his eyebrows. “A little less happy?”
Miles glares at him. “Just as happy,” he repeats.
Phoenix laughs. He pats him on the shoulder again. It feels very condescending. “I know. This was really good, okay? I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
“I would— I would have made it special,” Miles murmurs, weak in the face of Phoenix’s smile. Phoenix leans forward to kiss him gently.
“It was special. Because it was you. And we were caught up in the moment, and that was always going to be better than some planned romantic-on-the-outside thing for me, okay?”
Miles nods, and allows Phoenix to drag him back under the covers. His eyes slide shut, the drowsiness of earlier seeping back in now that he had calmed down a little and—
Miles shoots back up, sheets falling around his waist. “ I stepped on you . It was your first time and I stepped on you. ”
“And also fucked the shit out of my throat, yeah,” Phoenix laughs. “Very fun though. We should try stuff like that again. Hm. Do you wanna get some food? I’m feeling kind of peckish now. I know this good burger place that delivers. Maya’s a fanatic, so much so they’ve started a little outlet in Kuhra’in, too.”
Miles had done Europe, already, maybe Asia this time. Or perhaps Africa. Wright couldn’t bike to Africa and Miles would have a wonderful time introducing a judicial system to the lion prides of the Serengeti. This wasn’t running away, this was choosing life, because this horrible man would invariably be the death of him and if Miles stayed here one more second he might even enjoy it. Enjoy the years he’d have ahead of Phoenix laughing at him, and constantly springing things on him, and being annoying and loud and so easily lovable. With his stupid grin, and his steadfast determination, and the quiet way he gasped Miles’ name as he—
The Serengeti, definitely, Miles decides as Phoenix gets up, muttering something about combo meals. And it was contiguous with the Masai Mara, plenty of opportunities for growth there. For now, though… Phoenix Wright was walking out of the bedroom bare naked, the muscles in his back and his rather perfect buttocks being highlighted by the moonlight. Miles had better things to focus on.