Work Text:
"What is the meaning of this?"
Curled on his side of the bed and facing away from Edgeworth, Phoenix smirked into his pillow. Luckily, it was dark in the room. Considering Miles was busy fussing with the covers, Phoenix thought it was safe enough to feign a little sleepy confusion.
"Huh?" he mumbled, throwing in what he thought a particularly convincing yawn, "Meaning of what?"
At first, the only response was the rustle of blankets as Miles continued on his nightly quest for the perfect position. Usually he wound up on his right side, facing Phoenix with an arm thrown haphazardly toward him, but this time he merely gave an annoyed huff and rolled to face the wall.
"These sheets, Wright. They're... Immaculate."
Phoenix bit his lip. "Yeah, well, there's this place called a 'laundromat.' Really, all I have to do is--"
"Drop the innocent act. You're fully aware of what I mean," Miles said, wrenching the blankets up over his head, aggressively enough that it seemed he was blaming them for the cleanliness. "When I called you earlier, I explicitly stated I intended to sleep tonight."
"So go to sleep," Phoenix said.
It felt like he'd been trying to suppress his laughter for hours; since the moment he'd listened to that voice message.
Around four, he'd been grocery shopping when his phone began chirping noisily. Trying not to get too many looks in the freezer aisle--people would just judge grown men with ringtones set to the theme song from a children's television program so quickly--he fumbled every button at once in an attempt to get the stupid thing on silent.
Sure, he wound up getting looks anyway when he cheered in triumph. But it wasn't often that he successfully transferred a call to voicemail without turning off his phone or blocking Miles's number.
He listened to the message as he walked home through the late-November chill.
"I'm calling to inform you that I will be working late. I will need to be in the office early tomorrow. Don't... try... anything."
And that was all.
Anyone else and he'd wonder if his phone had cut out on the message. Anyone else, and he'd probably be worrying about that business-call tone with which Miles started the message--no hello, no 'where are you,' no greeting at all. He was just calling 'to inform,' the only hint of intimacy that demand at the end.
Phoenix had smirked as he put the phone back in his pocket. It was as if Miles thought he wasn't so much a boyfriend as some untrustworthy sex fiend who just happened to be sharing the rent.
But the whole message was so uniquely and endearingly Edgeworth that Phoenix wound up grinning the whole way home. As he put the groceries away, humming some pop love song from the grocery store's muzak station, he happily imagined a variety of things he could "try" when Edgeworth showed up.
But ultimately, as he pulled a pint of ice cream out of the freezer--not like Edgeworth would ever know if he ate it before, after, or as dinner--he reminded himself that he was not a sex fiend. He could do this. He was a nice, kind, considerate and loving boyfriend--and nice, kind, considerate and loving boyfriends let their grouchy workaholic boyfriends sleep whenever they damn well left voice mail threats about it.
For the rest of the afternoon, he was resolved.
Unfortunately, this was Edgeworth he was trying to be a considerate and loving boyfriend for, and when Edgeworth said he was working late it usually meant Phoenix would be wondering why they didn't just live in the office later. By six, he'd come up with an entirely different--but, he thought, entirely beneficial--plan.
Considerate boyfriends did occasionally do housework, if Edgeworth was to be believed. A little unexpected cleaning in the bedroom had never left Phoenix disappointed, and if the night went according to plan he'd be enjoying the fringe benefits for months. He had plenty of time to start the wash, take a nap, forget the sheets were in the washer, start the dryer, and forget the sheets in the dryer by the time he could so much as expect Miles. By the time Miles actually did get home--footsteps heavy in the hallway as he headed to the bathroom directly--Phoenix had rushed a shower, managed not to draw too much blood shaving, and had just snuggled into those still-warm sheets.
Which he knew Miles loved.
Even if, right now, he seemed only to want to tug them from Phoenix as he burrowed as far away as possible without falling entirely off the bed.
Given that it was November and Edgeworth was as stingy as ever with the heat--Phoenix didn't think he should be suffering for Miles's acclimatization to German winters, but Phoenix didn't pay the electric bill--it wasn't exactly pleasant to have the blankets pulled away. But even as he shivered, clutching the few inches of sheet Miles had left him, Phoenix was still smirking.
Already, he could hear it. The continued soft whisper of fabric as Miles tried to keep from rubbing against the sheets, the slow, deep breaths of a man attempting not to sniff clean linens. Any minute now.
As impossible as it sounded, Miles actually could occasionally resist Phoenix's numerous charms.
He was, however, completely helpless before the power of $2.75 in quarters.
A final exasperated sigh from the other side of the bed, and Phoenix could feel Miles shift slightly closer.
"I'm still not pleased with this," he said, "but apparently I have no choice in the matter. Get over here."
Quickly rolling to face him, Phoenix paused before moving across the expanse of cold mattress.
"But honey... I thought you had to work early."
"I'm glad you finally remembered, honey. You might also recall that we have a couch, and I can take care of this myself."
Laughing, Phoenix was curling an arm around Miles's chest and pressing close against his back before the complaint was finished. His hair was still damp, soft and smelling lightly of conditioner against Phoenix's nose. Unwinding a little more, Miles leaned back with a pleased-sounding murmur.
Grumpy as Miles may be some--okay, most--nights, at least the art of distracting him was getting easier. Stroking his hand slowly down Miles's broad chest, Phoenix grinned as he felt the twitch of Miles's muscles from skimming too lightly over his ticklish stomach. Having him like this--open, welcoming, not complaining too much--never stopped feeling downright miraculous. He curved his hand over the jut of Miles's hip, fingers curling to map the delicate skin, and breathed into Miles's hair that he thought he was the luckiest man ever born.
"Lucky I don't kick you out of bed," Miles agreed. "Attempt flattery all you like, you're still doing all the work."
Phoenix sighed. If he wanted romance, he reminded himself, he wouldn't be living with Miles Edgeworth. Determined not to let the mood get ruined, he kissed down the back of Miles's neck.
"I think I can manage that," he whispered in what he considered the world's greatest "sexy voice." He nuzzled gently at Miles's shoulder.
Somehow, he didn't think Miles's reaction was ideal.
"You shaved."
Only Miles, Phoenix thought. Only Miles could make shaving sound like a felony.
"Could I have left a clearer message? I have to work early, Wright, and I have neither the time nor energy for your antics. I could accept your untimely attention to the laundry as mere coincidence, but--"
It wasn't the most finessed approach he could take, but he had to do something before Edgeworth managed to evict him from the bed. Pulling Miles towards him, Phoenix leaned over, got a good one-sided kiss in, and slid his hand over to wrap around Miles's erection.
"Guilty as charged, okay? I won't do it again," he said, soothing against Miles's cheek. Either the words or the leisurely twist of his hand made Miles seem more amiable, but Phoenix could still make out that glower in the dark.
"That sounds likely."
"Miles, if you really want me to leave you alone--"
"It's a bit late for that," Miles snapped, but he still tilted his head back to kiss Phoenix, languid and deep. Phoenix had been considering apologizing again, but he couldn't help grinning into the kiss.
Miles would never buy it, anyway.
When he broke the kiss, Miles just turned back to the sheets, stubbornly facing away from Phoenix and half-leaning on his front. Anyone else, Phoenix thought, and taking that position would seem downright dismissive.
At least Edgeworth had always known how to extend a polite invitation.
"Get on with it, will you?"
Sighing, Phoenix wondered how far complaining about being treated like a sexual deviant--and not in a fun way--would get him, before asking Miles very politely to grab the lube.
Though Miles was technically closer, this question had apparently been one of those 'faux pas' things Miles just loved complaining about. Phoenix swiftly decided that--obvious evidence of Miles's arousal aside--if he wanted this night to go as planned, he'd better keep his mouth occupied some other way. Mumbling an apology, he pushed off the covers and hoisted himself off the bed to get the lube himself.
He was shivering a little as he knelt back on the bed, but Miles didn't seem to mind--or even notice--the cold, forgoing complaints about the missing blankets to murmur something indistinct as Phoenix pressed at his inner thigh. Despite seeming so annoyed earlier, and though he still acted significantly more interested in the feel of the sheets than anything Phoenix might do, Miles was pliable, almost eager.
Phoenix hesitated as he went to coat his fingers. Sure, he'd sort of had sex with Miles just last night, but he would never get enough of this. The sight of Miles Edgeworth naked in his bed--him, sloppy, boring, one-late-check-away-from-eviction Phoenix Wright--would never stop being incredible. He'd never figure out what he did right to get Miles stretched out like this, hair mused and limbs sprawled against the blankets, one thigh drawn up to his body to spread that amazing ass. When Miles writhed against the sheets impatiently, hips giving a little jerk, Phoenix had to bite back a groan.
"Are you just going to sit back there?"
Leaning close, Phoenix skimmed his hand up through the pale hair on Miles's thigh to run fingers over his cleft, to thumb gently down over his perineum to the back of his balls. Seeing Miles like this was nearly enough to make Phoenix forget about his plan--he could only think about Miles, about getting his hands all over that body.
As he kissed over Miles's lower back, Phoenix wanted to come up with something to say that would let Miles know exactly what this meant to him, and how much he just appreciated having Miles in his life, much less all sexy and fuckable in his bed. He knew he'd find the perfect thing. If anyone had to be the romantic in a relationship, it was damn well him. Besides, he was a former art student. There were plenty of perfectly beautiful, adoring words at his command.
And what came out was, "Fuck, I want to rim you."
Miles just laughed.
Blushing, Phoenix pinched him. "Wait, stop. I... It's a legitimate--"
"It's not that," Miles said, still laughing as he reached down to tousle Phoenix's hair, "Sorry. It's only, well... From how silent you were, I was fully anticipating one of your sappier moments. And while I find it perfectly charming, what you said... It isn't precisely Hallmark material."
With an embarrassed grin, Phoenix went back to licking over tailbone. "I think it's a nice sentiment. I'd buy the card."
"I'm not certain that would be wise."
"Why not?" he asked, breath warm over where he'd just lathed Miles's pale skin, "I can think of exactly who I'd send it--"
"You do recall the time I received a Mother's Day card, don't you?"
Trying to ignore terrifying thoughts of misaddressed hypothetical cards, Phoenix buried himself between Miles's legs. Hand idly massaging at his thigh, Phoenix lapped broad-tongued over the delicate skin of Miles's scrotum. Pressed close, the heat and smell of his body was intoxicating, and Phoenix was more than a bit put out when Miles tugged sharply at his hair.
"Ah... Phoenix, hold it." Miles said, voice tight. Reluctantly, Phoenix pulled back.
"Don't give me that pleading look. I never said you could." Miles looked away, suddenly interested in his pillow again. "You know you're too good at that," he mumbled, nearly quick enough for Phoenix to miss it, "Shaving like that, your stunt with the laundry... I'm close enough as it is. Unless you want me to come like this--"
He was nearly back down there before Miles pushed at him again. "That was rhetorical! I want... Well, what I want is to get to sleep, but what I'd rather put up with is..." Miles trailed off with a sigh, apparently hoping Phoenix would fill in the blanks.
Phoenix stroked his fingers teasingly down Miles's ass, circling his anus with his thumb. "Well? What would you 'rather to put up with'?"
"That," Miles said, voice low as he pressed back against Phoenix's hand. "Making me beg is beneath you, Phoenix."
"No it's not," he pointed out cheerfully as he went to squeeze some lube directly on Miles's skin, smirking as Miles flinched from the cold--only to moan as the motion thrust his cock rough against the sheets. "But if you just want to be fingered all night, I'd love--"
"Phoenix. Just fuck me."
Those words--choked and desperate, in that pleading voice he almost never got to hear--were always shocking. Phoenix spread Miles a little further with one hand and began working him open with the other. Aside from a groan as he felt Miles clench in a rapid, fluttering spasm like he was already coming, Phoenix was quiet. Bickering with Miles was more intense and satisfying foreplay than anything Phoenix's imagination would ever come up with, but when it came down to this--curving his finger back to tease the over-sensitive nerves just inside, pulling it out in a slow drag to get more lube on his hand, easing two in deep and hearing Miles's hitched moan--language became useless. Funny, how comfortable Miles actually was with begging, provided it was without words. When Phoenix stroked firmly over his prostate, Miles twisted to lift his leg a little higher, to raise his hips into Phoenix's touch.
Miles was so incredibly responsive, and Phoenix stretched his fingers apart just to watch him groan and squirm against the sheets. He adored the feeling of Miles's body, hot and gripping at his hand; loved the sight of Miles thrusting back and sweating and completely losing control. This was enough for Phoenix. Fingering Miles, rimming him, sucking or jerking him off--like his nerves were wired to Miles's, he'd get off on any of it. It felt too soon when he pulled his fingers out and sat back, wiping his hand carelessly on the covers. Miles moaned, clearly blissed out just from the sensation of sliding his hand down still-crisp sheets as he went for his cock.
Coating his hand with a little more lube to smooth it over his erection, Phoenix choked back a swear. Maybe it was weird that he'd been too occupied to notice how ridiculously aroused he was, but sex with Miles was just like that. The only stimulation he'd had was pressing his erection against Miles's ass and thigh as they tussled earlier, and he was surprised to find himself almost painfully hard, skin tight and glans already damp. He stroked the lube on as gently and quickly as possible, closing his eyes to the sight of Miles flushed and waiting impatiently.
As he leaned over Miles and gripped his up-stretched right thigh to help hold him open, Phoenix managed to moan out that he was sorry, but he didn't think he'd last long.
"Don't worry," Miles groaned back, "I don't... Oh. Oh, damn."
Phoenix's answering "shit, yeah," was long, nearly all vowel and drawn out for the entire slow push into his ass. Though Miles was relaxed from sleepiness, his shower, and their foreplay, he was still tight. When he was fully inside, body flush against Miles's back, Phoenix cursed again to feel that rhythmic muscular clench all around his cock. It was good, almost too good--and it was all Miles's fault for being so damn fantastic at fucking that Phoenix never seemed to remember to fuck him.
He wanted to wait longer to feel Miles relax beneath him, but apparently Miles wasn't interested in lying around. Despite his threat of making Wright do all the work, as he panted into the sheets he was already pushing back. Phoenix sighed, leaned heavily on his left arm to get some momentum, and began thrusting.
Miles could be as crazed and drunk on fabric softener as he liked, but he wasn't being fucked any faster than this. Phoenix's thrusts were slow but deep, balls pressing against Miles's with each stroke. It wasn't really a position for a quick, hard fuck, and Phoenix toyed with the idea of readjusting Miles. It wouldn't take much. Just pulling Miles's hips up, getting him to his knees--he could still even indulge in that sheets thing he had, maybe wrap his arms around a pillow as Phoenix slammed in. The snap of Phoenix's hips sped as he thought about it. Miles always kept his knees spread wide and back bowed so deeply when Phoenix fucked him like that--as if he was just giving his body up to Phoenix's cock--and Phoenix loved digging his fingers tightly into those sharp hips as he pulled Miles hard against him.
It was tempting. But as he let his right hand wander up the skin of Miles's thigh to readjust his grip and felt the race of Miles's pulse and as he heard the desperation in Miles's breath, he realized that even if he wanted to get Miles to his knees, he wouldn't have the time. This position wasn't great for a hard fuck, no. But they both loved it--the easy intimacy, the way Phoenix could lean full against Miles and nuzzle his feverishly warm skin.
He could feel Miles working his own cock in short little strokes, the way he always did when he was close. Phoenix nearly moaned in relief--though he knew it'd only been a few minutes, he felt like he'd been on the verge of coming for hours--and shortened his motions to match Miles's desperate pumping. He didn't know why Miles was so into this--how he got so insanely aroused from laundry day. If he truly cared, he'd have spent a little more time on a scientific study by now--maybe buying a few different brands of detergent, maybe trying to rig some clothesline on the rooftop. But whether it was some sort of commentary on Miles's usual neatness, a defilement kink, or simply a chemical reaction to bottom-shelf laundry detergent, Phoenix was only ever able to contemplate Miles's fetish long enough to decide it was just completely and utterly adorable.
A few more thrusts and he felt Miles tense against him, hands fisted in the sheets. His rhythm faltered as Miles groaned his name, muffled into his pillow, and came.
Pressing his face against Miles's flushed, sweat-damp skin, Phoenix just let his motions go quick and frantic. In so deep, he kept the wild thrusts short, pulling out only slightly before pressing himself tight against Miles again. Letting go of Miles's thigh, Phoenix reached his hand around to cover Miles's, jerking with him as he continued to moan softly. Phoenix fucked him through those final spasms of orgasm and into a tired, open lassitude. The grip of Miles's body had nearly been enough to push Phoenix over, but it was that moment when Miles grunted softly and practically melted into the bed--as if to invite Phoenix to do whatever--that finally did it.
It was almost too late when he remembered exactly how fastidious Miles was, and how pissed he'd be at having to get out of bed for the bathroom. He breathed a muddled apology against Miles's back as he pulled out suddenly, making Miles hiss in discomfort, and tried to angle for the bed. Part of the first pulse hit the back of Miles's thigh--later, it'd occur to him that the noise Miles made at that had sounded nothing like irritation--but he managed to aim the rest on the rumpled sheets between Miles's legs.
Slumping back, he leaned tiredly on one arm as he sat and caught his breath. Panting, he thought if he really wanted to avoid any potential grumbling, he'd get up right now. He could remember how to breathe normally after he cleaned Miles off. But before he could muster up the energy--it was difficult to work up any true motivation when Miles was always so adorable when annoyed--Miles resolved the issue for him.
"I still can't believe I allowed this," Miles said, muttering as he pried himself from the mattress. Phoenix grinned to himself as he watched Miles lever himself up on his elbows, then argue with his legs, before managing to push himself up to sit on Phoenix's side of the bed. It seemed like he was trying to work up a glare, but he just smiled faintly as he wiped himself with a corner of Phoenix's pillowcase.
Phoenix sat up. "Hey, you're just spreading it."
"And who would be to blame for that? Besides, you'll be sleeping on that side," Miles said, gesturing offhandedly at the sweaty, come-stained rucked sheets. Shaking his head, Phoenix stubbornly pushed at Miles and flopped back on his own side of the bed.
"Nope. You know I can't sleep there," Phoenix said, pulling at Miles's arm. It was true--even when Miles wasn't around, that was still his side of the bed. Phoenix would throw a leg over every once in a while, maybe roll a little in his sleep, looking for something warm and cute and grumpy, but that was as comfortable as he got over there.
When Miles frowned at him, he tugged again, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry, I've got a good solution."
Giving in, Miles laid heavily across his chest. He wasn't exactly light, and he'd decided to flop on Phoenix with more than enough momentum to make him grunt, but Phoenix couldn't complain. Though Miles had become a lot more comfortable with the concept of cuddling as their relationship continued, he usually still preferred falling asleep well on his side of the mattress. It wasn't that Phoenix minded--he'd usually wake to them being tangled intricately enough to make it seem like Prosecutor Edgeworth dreamed primarily of Twister championships--but having Miles draped across him when he was conscious enough to appreciate it was a nice change of pace.
Brushing Miles's hair back, he settled in, pillowless and with the knowledge Miles would probably make him change the sheets again in the morning. He was almost asleep--having forgotten his original plan and resigned to deal with Miles's charming "I didn't get my eight hours" attitude in the morning--when it happened.
Miles's voice was low and husky with sleep, but there was no mistaking what he said. It was just a few little words. But those words were Phoenix's reason for this whole night, from the moment he'd ignored that voice message.
"And from now on, Wright," Miles said, "I'll wash the sheets."
Phoenix tightened his hold a little, kissed the top of Miles's head in what he hoped seemed like apology.
And grinned broadly, barely repressing the urge to whisper one word against Miles's hair.
Score.