PW: "Replacement," Miles/Phoenix, NC-17
For my dear friend PseudoNonchalance over on y!gallery. I promised her some Miles/Phoenix like ... seriously six months ago, maybe more, and then I got distracted with thesis and teaching and ... stuff and didn't write it. So here it is, inspired from something else on the kink meme, and oh I do hope you like it, dear! ♥
Replacement
by mistr3ss Quickly
He's watched porn, over the years. Lots of porn. Probably more than he should have, although he's proud of himself for indulging only in what he could find without paying or breaking any laws, mindful of his restricted finances, the importance of his daughter's future, and the knowledge that his protégée would rather give up his hair gel habit than defend a man guilty of any crime, even one so simple as internet piracy.
The porn industry thrives on showing fantasies. He knows this. Knows full-well that the porn industry thrives (or would thrive, were he not as ... frugal as he is) on his fantasies. Showing him what he wants to see, what he'd like to do, were he receiving pleasure in ways other than those provided by his hand, his saliva, and the glow of his computer screen.
Logically, he knows this. Only he'd not considered that his partner, the man he'd assumed he'd never see again, let alone fuck again, might know the same things he knew.
"Lie still, Wright. Trust me."
So he lies on his back, spread nude and undignified across the bed in the hotel room his long-lost partner has rented for the night, trying to breathe without making enough noise to alert people in the next county that, where Miles Edgeworth may be a perfectionist and a grump ninety percent of the time, he's a perfectionist and a pervert the other ten percent. One who has more than a hand and saliva at his disposal, and knows damned well what to do with his excess supplies.
"I do, but-aah, Miles, stop that, can't think straight when you're doing that-shouldn't you, ah, use a condom instead?"
Lubricant, of course. A familiar participant in their sex-life, when they were younger. Condoms, still in a strip of wrappers, resting on the rumpled comforter beside Phoenix's thigh. But cling-wrap, that's a new one in their encounters. One which Phoenix will gladly welcome again, if his mind survives past the orgasm he can feel building, powerful and devastating already.
"For this? Hardly, Wright."
Miles' hands are warm against his thighs, softer than Phoenix's own hands but still aristocrat-soft, strong and firm where they hold Phoenix open, spread. The lubricant Miles smeared against Phoenix's asshole is chilly in the room, the air-conditioner humming softly under the window, but it's not uncomfortable, its slickness, making the rectangle of cling-wrap shift and tickle over nerves that Phoenix is pretty sure have never felt quite so sensitive, save perhaps for the first time Miles fingered him, half a lifetime ago.
He's starting to wonder if maybe-maybe-what Miles is about to do to him is what he's fantasized about, over the years and years of porn-surfing he's done when Miles dips down, out of sight, hands moving to hold the cling-wrap securely in place before doing precisely what Phoenix was expecting. Only it's not what he was expecting, it's not kinky or nasty or filthy or hot. It's warm and gentle and thrilling and unmentionably good, it tickles rather than burning or stretching, makes his heart beat fast and his cock throb, his balls tightening even as Miles' nose presses against them, pushing them gently towards his body.
"Oh god, Miles," he gasps, trembling, too turned on to hold still, too desperate for Miles to not stop ever to move, even enough to look down and watch.
Miles hums softly and presses his tongue in more firmly. Lubricant eases the way, the cling-wrap cinching around his tongue just enough that Phoenix can feel the folds in it, moving and rubbing as the muscle of Miles' tongue wiggles into him, Miles' lips warm where they're pressed against him, holding him open.
He wants it to last forever. Curls his fingers in the comforter instead of around his cock so that it will last even a bit longer.
But his lover is a perfectionist and knows him well, so well, that he doesn't stand a chance, doesn't have the heart or the willpower or both to say no when Miles' tongue sinks fully into him and Miles' hand touches his cock, stroking it roughly while the tongue inside him fucks him, tiny movements that feel so huge, so good. He makes a noise that makes his throat burn and hits his peak hard enough that his balls actually ache when it's over, his body twitching involuntarily as Miles pulls out of him, flushed and licking his lips.
"Now I will use a condom," Miles tells him, the severity of his expression dulled considerably by the stiffness of his cock, the wetness glistening at the tip, slicking the latex he rolls over it. "Since you were so adamant that I do so, before."
Phoenix rolls his eyes, sated and warm with the pleasant nothingness of the afterglow. He reaches for his lover, legs still spread, and pulls the man down, kisses him lazily while Miles works himself inside, slow and steady.
"Don't know where you learned that trick," he murmurs, Miles breaking the kiss to breathe heavily, fucking in a steady, building rhythm, "but it was amazing. Want me to maybe-ngh-try it on you sometime?"
Miles grunts. "The internet, and only if you'll shave," he says. "I would hate to think how stubble might f-feel on my-aah-my intimate regions."
He's close, or getting there. Phoenix hums and rocks his hips a little, meeting his lover's thrusts until Miles' rhythm begins to fall apart. He keeps quiet, breathing through the ache as Miles begins to really pound him, watching as his lover's eyes close and lips part as he fucks hard, gasping as he comes.
They kiss, afterwards. Slow and breathless and sloppy, Miles answering Phoenix's happy grin with a smirk.
"You liked it, then?" he says, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, keeping the condom in place as he pulls out.
"Mmm," says Phoenix. "I did. I'll shave tonight and show you, if you want."
Miles glances at him, then goes back to removing and tying the condom. Phoenix doesn't miss the pleased expression on his face, the grin on his own only widening.
"But only if you'll promise not to shave for a few days and let me see how it would feel to, how'd you say it? Have stubble on my 'intimate regions.'" He arches an eyebrow at the look his lover gives him, pushes himself up into a seated position. "What, you don't think it has potential?"
Miles sighs and kisses him, a quick peck on the lips. Walks around to the other side of the bed and drops the used condom and cling-wrap into the trash bin before returning to the foot of the bed, one hand outstretched.
"It may," he says, softly like it's a confession. "I'll think about it. For now, though, you need a shower."
Phoenix takes his hand. "Only if I don't have to take it alone," he says.
Miles chuckles. "Of course not," he says.
Then he leads Phoenix into the bathroom, pushing the door closed only a moment before pressing the other man against it, hands and mouth and hips and cock distracting Phoenix from his newest fantasy by playing out several older ones Phoenix found on the internet.
Which, Phoenix discovers, lying sated and damp and exhausted in his lover's arms, tucked into the bed in the hotel room his lover has rented for the night, holds far less appeal to him than it did in the years before.
He grins and presses a kiss to Miles' forehead, then drifts to sleep, pleased with the realization that he's not going to miss the porn at all.
~*~
Author's note: This is how to do rimming, kiddies. And sex. Lube, protection, stretching, trust between partners, all that stuff. I've read that you can slice a condom lengthwise and use it to cover the anus, during a rim-job. Might not taste as good-or rather, as non-descript-as cling-wrap, but it's better than getting sick because you stuck your tongue up someone's butt. Seriously. Porn is a good thing, but common sense in sexual intercourse is a really good thing. Just sayin'.
Replacement
by mistr3ss Quickly
He's watched porn, over the years. Lots of porn. Probably more than he should have, although he's proud of himself for indulging only in what he could find without paying or breaking any laws, mindful of his restricted finances, the importance of his daughter's future, and the knowledge that his protégée would rather give up his hair gel habit than defend a man guilty of any crime, even one so simple as internet piracy.
The porn industry thrives on showing fantasies. He knows this. Knows full-well that the porn industry thrives (or would thrive, were he not as ... frugal as he is) on his fantasies. Showing him what he wants to see, what he'd like to do, were he receiving pleasure in ways other than those provided by his hand, his saliva, and the glow of his computer screen.
Logically, he knows this. Only he'd not considered that his partner, the man he'd assumed he'd never see again, let alone fuck again, might know the same things he knew.
"Lie still, Wright. Trust me."
So he lies on his back, spread nude and undignified across the bed in the hotel room his long-lost partner has rented for the night, trying to breathe without making enough noise to alert people in the next county that, where Miles Edgeworth may be a perfectionist and a grump ninety percent of the time, he's a perfectionist and a pervert the other ten percent. One who has more than a hand and saliva at his disposal, and knows damned well what to do with his excess supplies.
"I do, but-aah, Miles, stop that, can't think straight when you're doing that-shouldn't you, ah, use a condom instead?"
Lubricant, of course. A familiar participant in their sex-life, when they were younger. Condoms, still in a strip of wrappers, resting on the rumpled comforter beside Phoenix's thigh. But cling-wrap, that's a new one in their encounters. One which Phoenix will gladly welcome again, if his mind survives past the orgasm he can feel building, powerful and devastating already.
"For this? Hardly, Wright."
Miles' hands are warm against his thighs, softer than Phoenix's own hands but still aristocrat-soft, strong and firm where they hold Phoenix open, spread. The lubricant Miles smeared against Phoenix's asshole is chilly in the room, the air-conditioner humming softly under the window, but it's not uncomfortable, its slickness, making the rectangle of cling-wrap shift and tickle over nerves that Phoenix is pretty sure have never felt quite so sensitive, save perhaps for the first time Miles fingered him, half a lifetime ago.
He's starting to wonder if maybe-maybe-what Miles is about to do to him is what he's fantasized about, over the years and years of porn-surfing he's done when Miles dips down, out of sight, hands moving to hold the cling-wrap securely in place before doing precisely what Phoenix was expecting. Only it's not what he was expecting, it's not kinky or nasty or filthy or hot. It's warm and gentle and thrilling and unmentionably good, it tickles rather than burning or stretching, makes his heart beat fast and his cock throb, his balls tightening even as Miles' nose presses against them, pushing them gently towards his body.
"Oh god, Miles," he gasps, trembling, too turned on to hold still, too desperate for Miles to not stop ever to move, even enough to look down and watch.
Miles hums softly and presses his tongue in more firmly. Lubricant eases the way, the cling-wrap cinching around his tongue just enough that Phoenix can feel the folds in it, moving and rubbing as the muscle of Miles' tongue wiggles into him, Miles' lips warm where they're pressed against him, holding him open.
He wants it to last forever. Curls his fingers in the comforter instead of around his cock so that it will last even a bit longer.
But his lover is a perfectionist and knows him well, so well, that he doesn't stand a chance, doesn't have the heart or the willpower or both to say no when Miles' tongue sinks fully into him and Miles' hand touches his cock, stroking it roughly while the tongue inside him fucks him, tiny movements that feel so huge, so good. He makes a noise that makes his throat burn and hits his peak hard enough that his balls actually ache when it's over, his body twitching involuntarily as Miles pulls out of him, flushed and licking his lips.
"Now I will use a condom," Miles tells him, the severity of his expression dulled considerably by the stiffness of his cock, the wetness glistening at the tip, slicking the latex he rolls over it. "Since you were so adamant that I do so, before."
Phoenix rolls his eyes, sated and warm with the pleasant nothingness of the afterglow. He reaches for his lover, legs still spread, and pulls the man down, kisses him lazily while Miles works himself inside, slow and steady.
"Don't know where you learned that trick," he murmurs, Miles breaking the kiss to breathe heavily, fucking in a steady, building rhythm, "but it was amazing. Want me to maybe-ngh-try it on you sometime?"
Miles grunts. "The internet, and only if you'll shave," he says. "I would hate to think how stubble might f-feel on my-aah-my intimate regions."
He's close, or getting there. Phoenix hums and rocks his hips a little, meeting his lover's thrusts until Miles' rhythm begins to fall apart. He keeps quiet, breathing through the ache as Miles begins to really pound him, watching as his lover's eyes close and lips part as he fucks hard, gasping as he comes.
They kiss, afterwards. Slow and breathless and sloppy, Miles answering Phoenix's happy grin with a smirk.
"You liked it, then?" he says, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, keeping the condom in place as he pulls out.
"Mmm," says Phoenix. "I did. I'll shave tonight and show you, if you want."
Miles glances at him, then goes back to removing and tying the condom. Phoenix doesn't miss the pleased expression on his face, the grin on his own only widening.
"But only if you'll promise not to shave for a few days and let me see how it would feel to, how'd you say it? Have stubble on my 'intimate regions.'" He arches an eyebrow at the look his lover gives him, pushes himself up into a seated position. "What, you don't think it has potential?"
Miles sighs and kisses him, a quick peck on the lips. Walks around to the other side of the bed and drops the used condom and cling-wrap into the trash bin before returning to the foot of the bed, one hand outstretched.
"It may," he says, softly like it's a confession. "I'll think about it. For now, though, you need a shower."
Phoenix takes his hand. "Only if I don't have to take it alone," he says.
Miles chuckles. "Of course not," he says.
Then he leads Phoenix into the bathroom, pushing the door closed only a moment before pressing the other man against it, hands and mouth and hips and cock distracting Phoenix from his newest fantasy by playing out several older ones Phoenix found on the internet.
Which, Phoenix discovers, lying sated and damp and exhausted in his lover's arms, tucked into the bed in the hotel room his lover has rented for the night, holds far less appeal to him than it did in the years before.
He grins and presses a kiss to Miles' forehead, then drifts to sleep, pleased with the realization that he's not going to miss the porn at all.
~*~
Author's note: This is how to do rimming, kiddies. And sex. Lube, protection, stretching, trust between partners, all that stuff. I've read that you can slice a condom lengthwise and use it to cover the anus, during a rim-job. Might not taste as good-or rather, as non-descript-as cling-wrap, but it's better than getting sick because you stuck your tongue up someone's butt. Seriously. Porn is a good thing, but common sense in sexual intercourse is a really good thing. Just sayin'.