PW fic: Dream a little dream
Title: Dream a little dream
Pairing: Phoenix/Miles
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humour, romance
Spoilers: GS4
Summary: Are you aware that you made me fly halfway through the world, on a private jet I might add, just because you can't contact a friend who should not be even taking your calls if he had an ounce of sense?
Word Count: ~6.700
Notes: This was supposed to be written for the Who's the Hobo contest, but life got in the way and I couldn't finish it on time. It's also the longest thing I've written in a long time. For kamapon for putting up with my goldfish's attention span.
Dream a little dream
Miles is aware he's dreaming.
It has to be a dream, not two ways around it. He's naked, completely bollocks naked as the day he was born in front of another person. It's either a dream or a first. He's not only naked, though that is what stands out most in Miles' mind, he's lying on his bed, gasping while that other person licks a trail down his belly to his aching cock. Miles moans and arches up, seeking more contact, more friction, more--just more.
He's also panting when he doesn’t have the breath to spare to moan. He tries to say something; a name, but he's not sure what name he should be calling. Miles settles for another moan. His hands reach down, grabbing ridiculously spiky hair.
Oh, so it's him, he thinks disjointedly.
Miles pushes the head down; sure this is some kind of breach in the protocol but not caring anymore. He doesn't know the first thing about the rules of this game, he just knows he wants more and he wants it now.
The other person--man--looks up, and though it's too dark to properly see his features Miles knows he's smiling.
"So eager," he says in a teasing tone.
"Please," Miles begs, not too proud for once in his life to beg for what he wants.
The smile widens, Miles knows though he can't see, and turns predatory. A wet warmness envelopes his cock and Miles shouts, the feeling so intense he might die just from it. He should be embarrassed to show how utterly inexperienced he really is, but he doesn’t care as long as those lips keep sliding up and down his cock and that wicked tongue keeps pressing against the underside just like that.
"Oh, please more," Miles rasps, feeling his orgasm approaching.
He's so close, he's never felt so good in his entire life; that pressure and suction and the knowledge that it's finally him in his bed and that this is just the beginning of the night--it's just too much. Miles feels it and--
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Miles' eyes snapped open in the dark room, his breath too loud and fast, the last vestiges of the dream disappearing in the darkness. He cursed inwardly, looking at his bedside clock. 2:30 AM, he was going to kill whoever it was on the other side of the line.
"Miles Edgeworth speaking," he all but snarled on the phone.
"Edgey!" Larry's voice shouted from the other end and Miles had a deja vú.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he said resigned, wondering what mischief had Wright managed to get into this time to warrant a call from Larry. It was the only thing that could force the always-skint Larry to spend the money in an international call. That or a woman. Probably both, thinking about it.
"Edgey, you have to come back. Something terrible has happened to Nick!" He had been right.
"Don't tell me he managed to fall from another bridge?" Miles said feeling light headed and worried, though annoyed enough not to let it show.
"No, worse. He's gone."
…
Miles stared at his one-time friend Larry and wondered again if it was worth killing him. He was sure no courtroom in the country would ever find him guilty for getting rid of the garbage, but maybe all the paperwork and waste of time was more hassle than he was really worth.
His eyelids closing on their own accord, Miles released a weary sigh.
"So Wright is not dead," he said for the third time, "you just can't find him."
He waited till Larry nodded for the third time, hoping against hope that the answer would be different now. Not that he wanted Wright to be dead, to be sure; it just irked him to have, once again, hired a private jet for Larry's idiocy and lack of common sense.
"Are you aware that you made me fly halfway through the world, on a private jet I might add, just because you can't contact a friend who should not be even taking your calls if he had an ounce of sense?" he said snappishly, forcing his heavy lids to stay open.
"It's more than that, Edgey, I'm not that stupid," Larry said looking strangely serious.
Are you not? Miles thought, but didn't want to get into another argument by voicing it. He was too tired for this.
"I haven't seen him in a fortnight, not that this is strange but I've been trying to find him. No one has seen him or heard from him in a long time." Larry continued, "His office is closed, and he's not taking calls from me or Maya, he's not been himself since he was disbarred and--"
Miles startled at that, his eyes snapping open though he didn't know he had closed them.
"He was what?" he said, thinking he misheard something.
That couldn't be true.
"Disbarred," Larry repeated. "Didn't I tell you this?"
No, he didn't. Miles glared at him. "Disbarred?" The word tasted sour in his mouth, leaving a strange feeling of emptiness.
"Last month, some stupid accusation of forging evidence," Larry dismissed.
"And you didn't tell me this first, why? No, don't answer, I don't care."
Wright disbarred. Accused of forging evidence. What had the Prosecutor's Office been up to since the day he left? It was such a farfetched charge he had trouble believing the judge had even considered it. Wright would never stoop so low as that.
"Take me to his offi--" he trailed off in a gigantic yawn, his face threatening to split in two. Miles blinked slowly. "I think I better get some rest, we'll go to his office first thing in the morning. Meet me by the Prosecutor's Office at 9 AM."
…
The dream is back.
And so is the mouth, trailing feather like kisses through Miles' neck and jaw, inching its way to his lips. Miles opens his mouth to receive it, timidly darting his tongue to taste the other's lips. He tastes familiar, like dark chocolate and those ridiculous strawberry sweets Franziska favoured when they were kids. Only darker and more bitter. Miles thinks he could taste that mouth forever.
He clings to the lean body for dear life, rubbing against it while his mouth shares breath with him, their tongues in no hurry to separate.
"Oh," he mutters disappointed when the lips leave his to move down his neck again, his skin tingling where it's kissed.
Miles wants to open his eyes, look at his partner in the face so he can call his name but does not dare for fear the dream will disappear if he does. He knows who the other man is, or should know it.
A slick tongue is circling one of his nipples and Miles has to bite his lip to keep from crying out, his body taut with need.
More, he wants to say, lower.
The other doesn’t need instructions, or maybe he can read Miles' mind. That mouth continues its path down stopping to play with his navel and drive Miles even wilder. If things continue like this, he's going to come before--
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Deja vú again. If someone was calling to say Wright was in trouble he was going to scream.
Miles blinked the sleep from his eyes slowly, wondering who was the one who beat him up him last night and if he managed to catch him, the insistent ringing of his phone forcing him out of bed.
"Miles Edgeworth speaking."
"Sir, this is Gumshoe calling as you requested. It's 8:30 in the morning."
God, he had been sleeping for ten hours then and still felt like he could keel over any minute. "Meet me at the office in half an hour," he said before hanging up.
Feeling slightly refreshed after quick shower, Miles drove to the office, Gumshoe and Larry already waiting for him there.
"So, tell me everything about this case that made Wright lose his badge," he said as a way of greeting, climbing out of his car.
Gumshoe started talking while they went to his office, still empty and awaiting his return after so long. Miles had not expected the Prosecutor's Office to keep their word about it, but it seemed he was still welcomed as the Prodigal Son.
"So let me see if I got everything," he said once Gumshoe finished his tale. "Wright got this case in the middle of the trial and no one questioned the previous attorney about the source of that forged evidence?" Twin nods from dumb and dumber. He could see why they weren't able to find Wright without him. "Find me the address of this Gavin's Attorney office."
...
The interview with Kristoph Gavin was a success in some ways Miles hadn't imagined. Gavin claimed he was a friend of Wright's and that he would never do something to harm his friend, but there was something in the way his eyes shifted relentlessly that told him he shouldn't trust that man further than he could throw him.
Miles knew, or at least he thought he did, Wright's friends. And Gavin wasn't one of them before. He didn't know about now, though. Gavin had insisted way too much that he didn't know anything about Wright, but the way he kept looking at his watch as if he had an appointment and averting Miles' eyes--there was something fishy going on there.
At least he had a name to begin his search. Gramarye.
He would get to that in a while, for now the jet lag was making itself known and he needed some more rest.
…
Miles knows it should be painful or at least uncomfortable but somehow it isn't. The pressure and the feeling of being filled are the only things he is aware of. That and the overwhelming need coursing through his body. He digs his heels on the mattress, pushing up to meet the thrust in his eagerness to get more.
The mouth is covering his again, swallowing his moans before he has a chance to release them in the almost silent room, the taste of dark chocolate stronger than before.
The friction increases and Miles grabs his partner's shoulders, holding tightly while they move faster and faster, the heat of their bodies rising steadily while their panting breaths mix.
A hand encircles his cock and Miles shouts; the sensations almost too much to bear.
"Oh God!" he cries out, overwhelmed.
"Miles!"
"Oh, I can't--"
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Miles wasn't even surprised anymore to be awakened in the best part of the dream, he was even getting used to it. With a sigh he picked up the phone, "Miles Edgeworth speaking," he said, his mind still trying to recall the feelings of the dream.
"I followed Gavin as you said, but he just went to some bar, nothing interesting," Larry said sounding bored. Miles took note of the address of the bar out of habit; one never knew when a clue would make itself known.
"Right, I'll see you tomorrow then." He hung up the phone and went to the kitchen to get something to eat. With all the sleeping and looking for Wright he had almost forgotten to eat since he arrived and he was famished now.
There was nothing in the fridge, logical considering he didn't actually live there, and not even a cup of instant ramen to prepare in the cupboard. With a weary sigh, Miles looked at the kitchen clock; it wasn't too late to go out for dinner, and since he was already going out--
The trip to the bar took him half an hour, and by the time he arrived he was reconsidering the wisdom of that move. He was starving and the place didn't look like a decent place to eat, but he was already there so Miles just went inside.
The first thing about the bar that jumped at him was how dark it was. It wasn't just the dimmed lights that gave an intimate feeling to restaurants and pubs; it was truly, awfully dark. As if it was trying to hide its ugliness from the eyes of the public. There were only a few tables in the place and on top of a dais an empty piano. There couldn't be more than two or three clients at the bar at that time, and none of them looked like they could afford even the beer they were drinking.
It was not the kind of place he would have gone on his own initiative and it wasn't definitely the kind of restaurant Gavin would patronize.
Miles had the feeling he was in the right place.
He took the table furthest away from the dais and the light, where the almost complete shadows would allow him to observe the entire room without calling too much attention to himself, and looked for the waitress to order.
The waitress, a young girl covered in hideous furs, was talking to one of the customers at the bar--a dirty and unshaven guy covered with an ugly blue hat--and didn't see him until the man moved toward the piano and took a sit. Miles narrowed his eyes staring at the man, there was something familiar in the way he moved but he couldn't put his finger on it.
He ordered a glass of red wine and some nibbles, not trusting the food very much but hungry enough to take a risk with something small, while his eyes scanned the place. There wasn't much to see and he couldn't find what might have interested Gavin enough to come to this dreadful place.
The music started then and Miles winced. God, the pianist was terrible! He looked at him again, focusing on him in the distance. He was far and the darkness surrounding the place didn't help, but Miles was convinced he should recognize the man. There was a feeling around the pianist; the way he didn't look at anything in particular while his fingers pounded the keys with enough force to break them and not even a shred of rhythm or talent--Miles blinked. No.
The waitress arrived at that moment with his wine and Miles turned to her.
"There is something about your pianist, I seem to recall him from somewhere," he questioned her, hoping she would not be too protective of a colleague to answer.
The girl looked at him and shrugged, not interested at all, "You mean Mr. Wright? He's not been here for long so I don't know." She left to go back to the bar.
Miles closed his eyes slowly, shaking his head. How the mighty have fallen. He rose from his chair unsteadily, wondering what was he doing there. Wright wasn't in any obvious danger, not he seemed to be there against his will. And something told Miles he wouldn't be happy to see him.
He made his way to the piano, the infernal noise Wright tried to pass for music turning deafening as he neared it. Wright didn't see him, his eyes half closed and his mind apparently far, far away.
"I didn't know your many talents included the murder of the classics, Wright," he said once he was close enough to be heard. Wright's head snapped up, his eyes widening when he realized who was in front of him. "Whatever has Mozart done to you to deserve this?"
He saw the conflict of emotions on Wright's face, shame, anger, disappointment, surprise, annoyance, delight and some others Miles was unable to read.
"Edgeworth," he said his voice low and deep. Miles was momentarily reminded of the voice in his dream and had to shake his head to dislodge that thought. "What brings you to this part of the world again? I thought this time you were gone for good."
Wright stilled his hands, blessed silence permeating the bar again, and stood up from his chair. "We should have a drink together like old friends," he signalled to the waitress and led Miles to a table.
Miles sat down studying him with narrowed eyes, his mind working furiously over the puzzle. That man looked like Wright and had the same voice and gestures but it wasn't him. There was a cockiness in his attitude and a bitterness in his voice that had never been there. This was no young idealist trying to save the world.
"What are you doing here, Edgeworth?" Wright asked curious once they were seated and had a drink in front of them.
"I was told you were gone," he said, seeing no reason to lie.
Wright chuckled, a bitter mirthless sound that set Miles teeth on edge. "Oh, as you can see I'm still here, and breathing." He took a sip from his bottle of juice.
"Yes, I can see that," Miles didn't know what else to say so he also drank from his glass, staring at Wright. The silence grew between them, uncomfortable enough that Miles wished even for the hideous sound of the piano from before to fill it. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. "What happened to you, Wright?" he asked.
Wright stared at him, considering. For a moment Miles thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he sighed, an embarrassed expression on his face. Like that he almost looked like his old self. "I was tricked, I supposed you heard about my-my-- the disbarral." Miles nodded. "It wasn't me, you have to believe me."
"I never thought it was," Miles admitted honestly. Wright smiled.
"Thanks."
"What are you doing here? Why didn't you fight it?"
"I did. I lost."
Miles narrowed his eyes, looking at him seriously. "Why didn't you call me? I would have helped you." And it was true, he would and Wright knew it. Should have known it. He had left everything before to help him, why didn't he ask for it now?
"You were halfway through the world, in your new and comfortable life." Was that bitterness he could hear in Wright's voice? "A life with no place for me, I suspect. Remember, you left again as if there was nothing here for you."
"That's not true," he protested.
"Yes, it is. And I got myself into this trouble; I should have been able to get myself out."
"But you didn't."
Wright shrugged.
"So why are you here? Why play the pianist, when you can't carry a tune, in this--place," he almost said hellhole, but he bit his tongue. It was bad enough as it was without adding insults to it.
Another shrug. "It pays the bills, and I can't keep my daughter without money."
"Your what?" Miles rose to his feet abruptly, staring at Wright with something akin to horror. "How--Why--Since when?"
Wright smiled, more like a smirk, and looked at the waitress who was signalling him. He stood up.
"That's a story for another day, I'm afraid. Your food is ready, Edgeworth."
He left, disappearing through a side door.
…
"So you adopted her."
Miles was back at the bar the next day and so was Wright.
He had gone back home the night before with more questions than answers, even after finding the man he was searching he couldn't get rid of the feeling his work there was not finished. He thought about it and decided it was too early to go back; there were still things that needed fixing and Wright needed his help even if he didn't want it.
Finding out about the daughter was easier than he expected, and he should have guessed it. It was a move so typical of Wright.
Wright looked up from his piano keys and smiled; dark circles under his eyes telling Miles he hadn't got much sleep. Neither had Miles, and fortunately he didn't have any of his dreams.
Maybe the shock of actually seeing Wright kept them away.
"Edgeworth, I though you would have returned to your home now you know I'm fine."
"You're far from fine, Wright. And stop that terrible noise, you're going to damage my brain," he snapped, gesturing wildly at the piano.
Wright continued torturing the keys for another minute, probably just to annoy Miles, before standing up and moving to a table. The bar was a bit fuller tonight, maybe because it was Friday or because it was earlier. Miles didn't know and didn't much care.
"You found about Trucy, then," Wirght said signalling the waitress for a drink and sitting down.
"I did, it wasn't difficult."
It had taken him barely two phone calls to tie the mysterious daughter with the Gramarye child, and then finding the adoption records had been just a question of common sense. He could remember how protective Wright had been of the Fey girls, adopting Trucy was just the way he was.
"It was her father who cost you the badge," Miles said.
Wright shook his head. "No, he wasn't the one." His expression darkened.
"Gavin."
"Yes, my dear friend Gavin." Wright drank his juice in silence, looking at everything but Miles. "You should go back home, Edgeworth," he finally said. "Now there is really nothing for you here."
Miles thought about it. When he left he had never intended to stay away for so long, he had always believed it was just a little pause, a time for them to think about the direction their relationship was taking. Nothing had ever been said, not even hinted. But Miles could feel it, every time Wright and he were together he could feel it. There was something between them and it had scared Miles enough to take a plane abroad to give himself space to think.
But that was before. Wright was right. The way he was now, there was nothing for Miles there.
"Maybe I will," he admitted. Something like pain flashed in Wright's eyes for a second, to be gone immediately. It gave Miles hope that not everything was lost. "But not yet."
Wright looked at him curiously, his head tilted to the side and his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you think you can accomplish staying here? Is there any case you need to solve?"
Miles shrugged. "No, I'm not working with the Prosecutor's office. Yet."
"Then?"
"I'll put you back on your feet, Wright, whether you like it or not," he surprised himself saying and he realized it was the truth. He wasn't going to leave before Wright was back to himself; whatever happened between them didn't matter now. Wright's life did.
Wright barked a laugh, standing up. "I'd like to see you try, Edgeworth." And he disappeared through a side door like the night before.
…
Miles didn't appear by the club for the next couple of days, too busy looking for clues, reasons and anything that helped tie Gavin to the forged evidence.
He had no luck. Whatever Gavin was, he had been careful.
Miles was sure he was the one after that, and after meeting his brother at the Prosecutor's Office and finding out he was working at that trial, the last of his doubts fled.
Now he just needed to find proof of the betrayal.
Gumshoe proved to be as useless an assistant as ever, only surpassed by Larry proving to be not only a useless assistant but also a completely worthless human being. The only task assigned to those two they were able to accomplish was locating Trucy, Wright's adopted daughter, though Miles would rather not have to speak to her so soon.
…
Miles was shown the side door on his next trip to the club.
If he thought seeing Wright playing piano had been a shock it was nothing to what he felt seeing him play poker. He really didn't seem the same person: the focused look in his eyes reminded him of the Wright at court, the one who would hound a witness until he found the truth, but that was all. He was devoid of emotions, his face as blank as he had even seen it.
And he knew how to play! That he did. Miles could see the measured way in which he judged his opponent and how he took in all small clues, using everything to his advantage.
If only he had been so good at reading people before he wouldn't be in that mess.
"Oh, Miles, hello," Wright said when the other guy finally conceded defeat and left the room fuming. "I was wondering if you had given up already."
Miles took the now empty seat in front of Wright. "You don't have much faith in me, do you?" he asked irritated. It had been just three days since the last time he saw Wright; there was no way he was going to give up so soon. Or ever.
Wright shrugged. "Well, you have this habit of running away when things get personal, and since you don't have work here and this is entirely personal--"
Miles saw red. The nerve of the guy! He stood up and slammed his hand against the table. "You have no right to say that, Wright, seeing how you ran away leaving everything behind when things got a little tough for you," he snapped, glaring. Wright glared back.
"I never ran away!"
"And what do you call this? Hiding in this hellhole while your friends fret about your well being? You call this facing your problems?" He asked snidely, feeling a moment of triumph seeing Wright wince.
"You know nothing, Edgeworth," Wright retorted standing up as well, his eyes burning with rightful indignation. "You weren't here, remember? You left again when things were moving in a direction you clearly didn't want, so don't come back now on your high horse trying to fix me!"
"You could have called me, couldn't you? You know I would come back to help you!" Miles insisted, he had said it before but it still hurt him Wright had not asked for his help.
"Do I? How could I know? You left!" Wright snapped angrily, his voice rising in the small room.
"I needed time to think!"
Both of them were clearly past the point of being reasonable, the conversation moving further away from Wright's problem into a more personal area. It was, however, a conversation they needed to have sooner or later, so he didn't stop it as he would have before.
"Time to think? You put a whole ocean between us, I have to be grateful you didn't fake your death again but you got your point across loud and clear!" Wright was flushed now, leaning forward till his face was inches apart from Miles'. At that distance it was easy to see the hurt in his eyes.
"I would have come back," he said, contrite, the anger leaving him to be replaced by an unwanted feeling of guilt. He had been so scared by the way things were progressing between them he had not taken the time to think how it would look to Wright if he left.
"And you have," Wright sighed, all the fight leaving him as well. "Pity I'm not the person you wanted anymore, but you don't need to fix me, Edgeworth. I'll survive." He closed his eyes for a second, his expression unbearably weary. "Leave now, Miles, I'm too tired to fight this battle again."
Miles stood still, staring at Wright for an interminable moment, torn between the need to flee and the almost overwhelming urge to do something, anything to erase the hurt from that face.
Finally, when the silence grew too heavy to stand, Miles turned on his heel and left.
…
He's dreaming again but this time, unlike the previous ones, he's struggling to wake up.
He's naked, which is not new, but he's alone and that makes a lot of a difference. All the arousal and excitement of the other dreams are gone and in their place there is only this terrible emptiness. Miles feels so lonely he could cry.
He looks around, searching, convinced he has to be around. He's not.
There is nothing for him to do but to wait for him to come back, Miles thinks, but knows he won't be coming back. Not ever, if he doesn’t do something about it.
He's never been so scared in his life, not even when his father died and his entire life changed drastically--but Miles knows it's time for him to do something, anything, to win him back.
Even if it's just a dream.
Especially because it's not just a dream.
…
"We need to talk."
It was another week till Miles finally gathered the courage to go to the bar again but if Wright's expression was anything to go by; he hadn't expected Miles to appear in front of him ever again.
Not that Miles had been idle the past week. After their bitter argument and Miles' show of cowardice fleeing again, he had done a lot of thinking. Wright had given up not only on him but on his past life, and even if he couldn't get him his badge back there was no way Miles would let him think everything was lost.
He still had some aces up his sleeve.
"We've talked enough, Edgeworth," Phoenix said calmly, almost as if he didn't have the energy to get angry anymore. "Nothing will change and I don't want to waste more time deciding whose fault it was it didn't work out--"
Miles didn't let him finish the sentence, wholeheartedly agreeing the time for talking was well past.
The kiss stunned Wright into silence and immobility, his eyes wide as saucers and his lips cold and unyielding. Miles' didn't let that discourage him, nor did he pay any attention to the shocked gasps and catcalls he could hear coming from the bar at the sight of their pianist being kissed by another man.
He continued pressing his lips against Wright's gently coaxing a response from him, any kind of response, darting his tongue out to slowly lick the frozen lips, his hands settling on Wright's shoulders. He could feel the roughness of Phoenix' unshaven chin against his cheek, and he made a mental note to force him to shave--anything to divert his mind from the fact that Phoenix was not responding.
He gave up after a minute of frozen immobility, his heart sinking.
Miles pulled back, searching for something in Wright's eyes, anything that told him he might succeed if he kept going. There was nothing there but unending shock.
Feeling foolish and disappointed, Miles shrugged forcing his lips to curve into a wry smile. "You are right; there is nothing else to talk about." Miles turned to leave, his face flushing under the stares of the waitress and everyone else in the bar.
He was almost at the door when he heard his name. He turned and saw Wright looking at him as if he was waking from a dream, his breath ragged and his cheeks burning.
"Miles! Wait!" Wright was out of his chair and approaching him, his expression one of utter disbelief. "You--you--" He blinked, shaking his head and grabbed Miles hand.
Miles let himself be dragged to the side door, knowing their destination was the hidden room and grateful for the privacy they were going to enjoy there. At least there his humiliation would be less.
He didn't know what Wright wanted to tell him now, his rejection so clear and public a minute before, but he felt he owed him to listen to it. At least Wright wasn't running away.
What he didn't expect was to find himself against the door the instant it closed, a very willing and eager Phoenix Wright trying to make up for lost time exploring his tonsils and everything else within reach of his tongue or fingers. Miles made a sound that was part surprise and part delight, his hands moving to Phoenix' shoulders again and melting into the kiss, his tongue mapping every inch of Phoenix' mouth.
All the frustration and feelings from his always-interrupted dreams came back with a vengeance, his arousal dizzying. Miles' pressed himself against Wright, the feeling of his hardness pressed against Miles' enough to tear a moan from his throat.
"Phoenix!" he gasped, pulling away to get much needed oxygen.
Wright moved his mouth down, clamping his lips on to Miles' throat while their bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and grinding in a frenzied rush to completion. Miles knew he was going to regret it but couldn't care less at the time, the feeling to intense. Phoenix stiffened with a cry, biting the sift skin on his neck while he rode his orgasm and Miles closed his eyes and shuddered, coming as well.
They stayed like that for a while, trying to catch their breaths. Finally Phoenix pulled back slowly, as if reluctant to do so, and looked up at Miles with an embarrassed smile.
"That was--" he trailed off, looking for the right word.
Miles had no problems supplying it. "Short? Quick? Embarrassing?"
"Good," Wright finished, scratching the back of his neck in such a familiar way Miles couldn't help but to return his smile.
"Yes, but now we really need to have that talk," Miles said, moving to sit on one of the chairs and wincing at the unpleasant feeling if his dirty underwear. "And we better make it a quick one, I need a shower."
…
"So, let me see if I get it," Wright was saying, studying Miles carefully and intently. "You want me to work for you?"
"Not for me, per se, but for the Prosecutor's Office," he confirmed.
It was the best solution he had been able to come up with, and in hindsight he didn't know why it didn't come to him sooner. It was perfect. Wright couldn't stand in court as an Attorney, but his knowledge of law was still there and he had proven himself in the field several times. Besides, that way they could keep an eye on the Gavin brothers and have access to the resources the Office possessed to help their investigation. It was a win-win situation.
"You know I can't stand in court," Wright insisted.
Miles had already thought of that. "You can't stand as an attorney, that doesn’t mean you can't be a witness, or that you can't help me."
"Isn't it usually Gumshoe the one who does this for you?"
It was, and what a great job Gumshoe did!
"He's with the police; the Prosecutor's Office has the right to have their own investigators if so they chose. And if I return to the office they won't deny me what I want."
"Are you staying here then?" Phoenix looked at him seriously, as if the answer to his next question was the deciding factor in the conversation. It probably was, now Miles thought about it. "And for how long?"
"Forever? I don't have a reason to run away anymore, Phoenix."
Phoenix smiled and kissed him again.
…
Miles is beginning to be a bit irritated by these dreams. Not that the dream is unpleasant in itself, far from it. He'd just love to finish one of them-and somehow he has the feeling it's not going to be this one.
But apart from that, he has no complains. Not with the way that wicked tongue is trailing fire down his chest, dipping into his navel and finally-finally tasting him. Miles moans.
A low chuckle reaches him, that warm mouth enveloping him and making him gasp. Everything is perfect, the perfect amount of pressure, perfect suction, perfect heat-so much Miles feels his going to explode.
He also knows this is the moment in which he usually wakes up.
The mouth releases him, a complain lodged on his throat when he feels it going further down.
"Phoenix!" he shouts.
Miles blinked quickly, the last remnants of the dream still clear in his mind. He'd known, didn't he?
"I was thinking you weren't going to wake up, Miles." An amused voice said and he looked down to see the dishevelled head of one Phoenix Wright at his crotch, a wicked smile on his lips.
He was going to say something, but the breath got stuck on his throat when Phoenix opened his mouth and swallowed him. He must be dreaming, only there was daylight coming through the blinds and he had never been able to see the face of his partner in the dream, though he had known the entire time it was Wright.
He settled for closing his eyes and surrendering to the feeling, his arousal already so painful it was a miracle he hadn't come at the mere sight. It was the same as the dream, that mouth talented enough to make him curse and moan, those lips sliding up and down his cock with excruciating slowness.
He felt the first touch to his arse and a moment of panic seized him, he was sure things wouldn't go as smoothly in that part as they did in the dreams. He was right, though the discomfort he felt when he was breached was soon eclipsed by the pleasure.
"Relax, Miles."
He did, melting back into the mattress, his hands reaching on their own accord to grab Phoenix' head. He tensed again when a second finger entered, the burning feeling this time more intense. A jolt of pleasure when through him then, and he could feel Phoenix smiling around the flesh in his mouth.
"Phoenix, what--?" he trailed off with a moan when the fingers withdrew, to return with another friend a moment later.
He stiffened, the discomfort returning twofold.
"Miles, I have to prepare you," Phoenix said, his voice strained.
"I know, it just--" hurts.
He didn't say it, riding out the pain as best as he could knowing it was going to be just temporary. And more than worth it.
The pain faded soon and Miles breathed a sigh of relief, his body relaxing again. Phoenix seemed to be reaching his limit, he climbed up Miles body and sealed his lips on a frenzied kiss, grinding against him helplessly.
If he continued like that--
"Phoenix, stop," he managed pulling away slightly.
Phoenix seemed to regain his senses, giving him a peck in the lips before positioning himself and pushing in slowly. Miles regretted it for a second, it had felt so good before and now the pain was back.
He panted, trying to catch his breath while Phoenix kept going, slowly, the burning feeling almost unbearable. He was being kissed again, the warmness and gentleness of the kiss distracting him and helping him to relax, his arousal coming back. Finally Miles felt ready, tilting his hips up he let Phoenix know.
It was gentle an slow at first, each thrust almost deliberate until it hit that spot that made Miles swear, pleasure coursing through him, the pain a distant memory. This was more like the dream, and the feeling that this time no one was going to snatch the climax from him was almost exhilarating.
They picked up the pace, their lips sealed, their breaths mingling. Miles knew he wasn't going to last much, especially when a hand curled around his cock, pulling in time with the thrusts.
"Oh-Phoenix!" he cried out, clinging for dear life to his shoulders.
Phoenix bit down on his shoulder and he was gone, his orgasm almost blinding in its intensity. A few more thrusts and Phoenix was stiffening as well, muffling his shout of pleasure on Miles' shoulder.
They didn't move for a while, their hearts beating fast and almost painfully against their chests. Finally Phoenix withdrew, moving away from the bed and returning with a wet flannel before climbing back next to Miles.
"So, have you decided what you're going to do?" Miles said, snuggling closer to Phoenix and closing his eyes contentedly.
"Yes, I think I'll give your idea a try."
"Good."
Miles yawned and let sleep claim him again. His last though was he couldn't wait for Monday to come. The look in Gavin's face would be priceless.
...
Pairing: Phoenix/Miles
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humour, romance
Spoilers: GS4
Summary: Are you aware that you made me fly halfway through the world, on a private jet I might add, just because you can't contact a friend who should not be even taking your calls if he had an ounce of sense?
Word Count: ~6.700
Notes: This was supposed to be written for the Who's the Hobo contest, but life got in the way and I couldn't finish it on time. It's also the longest thing I've written in a long time. For kamapon for putting up with my goldfish's attention span.
Dream a little dream
Miles is aware he's dreaming.
It has to be a dream, not two ways around it. He's naked, completely bollocks naked as the day he was born in front of another person. It's either a dream or a first. He's not only naked, though that is what stands out most in Miles' mind, he's lying on his bed, gasping while that other person licks a trail down his belly to his aching cock. Miles moans and arches up, seeking more contact, more friction, more--just more.
He's also panting when he doesn’t have the breath to spare to moan. He tries to say something; a name, but he's not sure what name he should be calling. Miles settles for another moan. His hands reach down, grabbing ridiculously spiky hair.
Oh, so it's him, he thinks disjointedly.
Miles pushes the head down; sure this is some kind of breach in the protocol but not caring anymore. He doesn't know the first thing about the rules of this game, he just knows he wants more and he wants it now.
The other person--man--looks up, and though it's too dark to properly see his features Miles knows he's smiling.
"So eager," he says in a teasing tone.
"Please," Miles begs, not too proud for once in his life to beg for what he wants.
The smile widens, Miles knows though he can't see, and turns predatory. A wet warmness envelopes his cock and Miles shouts, the feeling so intense he might die just from it. He should be embarrassed to show how utterly inexperienced he really is, but he doesn’t care as long as those lips keep sliding up and down his cock and that wicked tongue keeps pressing against the underside just like that.
"Oh, please more," Miles rasps, feeling his orgasm approaching.
He's so close, he's never felt so good in his entire life; that pressure and suction and the knowledge that it's finally him in his bed and that this is just the beginning of the night--it's just too much. Miles feels it and--
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Miles' eyes snapped open in the dark room, his breath too loud and fast, the last vestiges of the dream disappearing in the darkness. He cursed inwardly, looking at his bedside clock. 2:30 AM, he was going to kill whoever it was on the other side of the line.
"Miles Edgeworth speaking," he all but snarled on the phone.
"Edgey!" Larry's voice shouted from the other end and Miles had a deja vú.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" he said resigned, wondering what mischief had Wright managed to get into this time to warrant a call from Larry. It was the only thing that could force the always-skint Larry to spend the money in an international call. That or a woman. Probably both, thinking about it.
"Edgey, you have to come back. Something terrible has happened to Nick!" He had been right.
"Don't tell me he managed to fall from another bridge?" Miles said feeling light headed and worried, though annoyed enough not to let it show.
"No, worse. He's gone."
…
Miles stared at his one-time friend Larry and wondered again if it was worth killing him. He was sure no courtroom in the country would ever find him guilty for getting rid of the garbage, but maybe all the paperwork and waste of time was more hassle than he was really worth.
His eyelids closing on their own accord, Miles released a weary sigh.
"So Wright is not dead," he said for the third time, "you just can't find him."
He waited till Larry nodded for the third time, hoping against hope that the answer would be different now. Not that he wanted Wright to be dead, to be sure; it just irked him to have, once again, hired a private jet for Larry's idiocy and lack of common sense.
"Are you aware that you made me fly halfway through the world, on a private jet I might add, just because you can't contact a friend who should not be even taking your calls if he had an ounce of sense?" he said snappishly, forcing his heavy lids to stay open.
"It's more than that, Edgey, I'm not that stupid," Larry said looking strangely serious.
Are you not? Miles thought, but didn't want to get into another argument by voicing it. He was too tired for this.
"I haven't seen him in a fortnight, not that this is strange but I've been trying to find him. No one has seen him or heard from him in a long time." Larry continued, "His office is closed, and he's not taking calls from me or Maya, he's not been himself since he was disbarred and--"
Miles startled at that, his eyes snapping open though he didn't know he had closed them.
"He was what?" he said, thinking he misheard something.
That couldn't be true.
"Disbarred," Larry repeated. "Didn't I tell you this?"
No, he didn't. Miles glared at him. "Disbarred?" The word tasted sour in his mouth, leaving a strange feeling of emptiness.
"Last month, some stupid accusation of forging evidence," Larry dismissed.
"And you didn't tell me this first, why? No, don't answer, I don't care."
Wright disbarred. Accused of forging evidence. What had the Prosecutor's Office been up to since the day he left? It was such a farfetched charge he had trouble believing the judge had even considered it. Wright would never stoop so low as that.
"Take me to his offi--" he trailed off in a gigantic yawn, his face threatening to split in two. Miles blinked slowly. "I think I better get some rest, we'll go to his office first thing in the morning. Meet me by the Prosecutor's Office at 9 AM."
…
The dream is back.
And so is the mouth, trailing feather like kisses through Miles' neck and jaw, inching its way to his lips. Miles opens his mouth to receive it, timidly darting his tongue to taste the other's lips. He tastes familiar, like dark chocolate and those ridiculous strawberry sweets Franziska favoured when they were kids. Only darker and more bitter. Miles thinks he could taste that mouth forever.
He clings to the lean body for dear life, rubbing against it while his mouth shares breath with him, their tongues in no hurry to separate.
"Oh," he mutters disappointed when the lips leave his to move down his neck again, his skin tingling where it's kissed.
Miles wants to open his eyes, look at his partner in the face so he can call his name but does not dare for fear the dream will disappear if he does. He knows who the other man is, or should know it.
A slick tongue is circling one of his nipples and Miles has to bite his lip to keep from crying out, his body taut with need.
More, he wants to say, lower.
The other doesn’t need instructions, or maybe he can read Miles' mind. That mouth continues its path down stopping to play with his navel and drive Miles even wilder. If things continue like this, he's going to come before--
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Deja vú again. If someone was calling to say Wright was in trouble he was going to scream.
Miles blinked the sleep from his eyes slowly, wondering who was the one who beat him up him last night and if he managed to catch him, the insistent ringing of his phone forcing him out of bed.
"Miles Edgeworth speaking."
"Sir, this is Gumshoe calling as you requested. It's 8:30 in the morning."
God, he had been sleeping for ten hours then and still felt like he could keel over any minute. "Meet me at the office in half an hour," he said before hanging up.
Feeling slightly refreshed after quick shower, Miles drove to the office, Gumshoe and Larry already waiting for him there.
"So, tell me everything about this case that made Wright lose his badge," he said as a way of greeting, climbing out of his car.
Gumshoe started talking while they went to his office, still empty and awaiting his return after so long. Miles had not expected the Prosecutor's Office to keep their word about it, but it seemed he was still welcomed as the Prodigal Son.
"So let me see if I got everything," he said once Gumshoe finished his tale. "Wright got this case in the middle of the trial and no one questioned the previous attorney about the source of that forged evidence?" Twin nods from dumb and dumber. He could see why they weren't able to find Wright without him. "Find me the address of this Gavin's Attorney office."
...
The interview with Kristoph Gavin was a success in some ways Miles hadn't imagined. Gavin claimed he was a friend of Wright's and that he would never do something to harm his friend, but there was something in the way his eyes shifted relentlessly that told him he shouldn't trust that man further than he could throw him.
Miles knew, or at least he thought he did, Wright's friends. And Gavin wasn't one of them before. He didn't know about now, though. Gavin had insisted way too much that he didn't know anything about Wright, but the way he kept looking at his watch as if he had an appointment and averting Miles' eyes--there was something fishy going on there.
At least he had a name to begin his search. Gramarye.
He would get to that in a while, for now the jet lag was making itself known and he needed some more rest.
…
Miles knows it should be painful or at least uncomfortable but somehow it isn't. The pressure and the feeling of being filled are the only things he is aware of. That and the overwhelming need coursing through his body. He digs his heels on the mattress, pushing up to meet the thrust in his eagerness to get more.
The mouth is covering his again, swallowing his moans before he has a chance to release them in the almost silent room, the taste of dark chocolate stronger than before.
The friction increases and Miles grabs his partner's shoulders, holding tightly while they move faster and faster, the heat of their bodies rising steadily while their panting breaths mix.
A hand encircles his cock and Miles shouts; the sensations almost too much to bear.
"Oh God!" he cries out, overwhelmed.
"Miles!"
"Oh, I can't--"
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Miles wasn't even surprised anymore to be awakened in the best part of the dream, he was even getting used to it. With a sigh he picked up the phone, "Miles Edgeworth speaking," he said, his mind still trying to recall the feelings of the dream.
"I followed Gavin as you said, but he just went to some bar, nothing interesting," Larry said sounding bored. Miles took note of the address of the bar out of habit; one never knew when a clue would make itself known.
"Right, I'll see you tomorrow then." He hung up the phone and went to the kitchen to get something to eat. With all the sleeping and looking for Wright he had almost forgotten to eat since he arrived and he was famished now.
There was nothing in the fridge, logical considering he didn't actually live there, and not even a cup of instant ramen to prepare in the cupboard. With a weary sigh, Miles looked at the kitchen clock; it wasn't too late to go out for dinner, and since he was already going out--
The trip to the bar took him half an hour, and by the time he arrived he was reconsidering the wisdom of that move. He was starving and the place didn't look like a decent place to eat, but he was already there so Miles just went inside.
The first thing about the bar that jumped at him was how dark it was. It wasn't just the dimmed lights that gave an intimate feeling to restaurants and pubs; it was truly, awfully dark. As if it was trying to hide its ugliness from the eyes of the public. There were only a few tables in the place and on top of a dais an empty piano. There couldn't be more than two or three clients at the bar at that time, and none of them looked like they could afford even the beer they were drinking.
It was not the kind of place he would have gone on his own initiative and it wasn't definitely the kind of restaurant Gavin would patronize.
Miles had the feeling he was in the right place.
He took the table furthest away from the dais and the light, where the almost complete shadows would allow him to observe the entire room without calling too much attention to himself, and looked for the waitress to order.
The waitress, a young girl covered in hideous furs, was talking to one of the customers at the bar--a dirty and unshaven guy covered with an ugly blue hat--and didn't see him until the man moved toward the piano and took a sit. Miles narrowed his eyes staring at the man, there was something familiar in the way he moved but he couldn't put his finger on it.
He ordered a glass of red wine and some nibbles, not trusting the food very much but hungry enough to take a risk with something small, while his eyes scanned the place. There wasn't much to see and he couldn't find what might have interested Gavin enough to come to this dreadful place.
The music started then and Miles winced. God, the pianist was terrible! He looked at him again, focusing on him in the distance. He was far and the darkness surrounding the place didn't help, but Miles was convinced he should recognize the man. There was a feeling around the pianist; the way he didn't look at anything in particular while his fingers pounded the keys with enough force to break them and not even a shred of rhythm or talent--Miles blinked. No.
The waitress arrived at that moment with his wine and Miles turned to her.
"There is something about your pianist, I seem to recall him from somewhere," he questioned her, hoping she would not be too protective of a colleague to answer.
The girl looked at him and shrugged, not interested at all, "You mean Mr. Wright? He's not been here for long so I don't know." She left to go back to the bar.
Miles closed his eyes slowly, shaking his head. How the mighty have fallen. He rose from his chair unsteadily, wondering what was he doing there. Wright wasn't in any obvious danger, not he seemed to be there against his will. And something told Miles he wouldn't be happy to see him.
He made his way to the piano, the infernal noise Wright tried to pass for music turning deafening as he neared it. Wright didn't see him, his eyes half closed and his mind apparently far, far away.
"I didn't know your many talents included the murder of the classics, Wright," he said once he was close enough to be heard. Wright's head snapped up, his eyes widening when he realized who was in front of him. "Whatever has Mozart done to you to deserve this?"
He saw the conflict of emotions on Wright's face, shame, anger, disappointment, surprise, annoyance, delight and some others Miles was unable to read.
"Edgeworth," he said his voice low and deep. Miles was momentarily reminded of the voice in his dream and had to shake his head to dislodge that thought. "What brings you to this part of the world again? I thought this time you were gone for good."
Wright stilled his hands, blessed silence permeating the bar again, and stood up from his chair. "We should have a drink together like old friends," he signalled to the waitress and led Miles to a table.
Miles sat down studying him with narrowed eyes, his mind working furiously over the puzzle. That man looked like Wright and had the same voice and gestures but it wasn't him. There was a cockiness in his attitude and a bitterness in his voice that had never been there. This was no young idealist trying to save the world.
"What are you doing here, Edgeworth?" Wright asked curious once they were seated and had a drink in front of them.
"I was told you were gone," he said, seeing no reason to lie.
Wright chuckled, a bitter mirthless sound that set Miles teeth on edge. "Oh, as you can see I'm still here, and breathing." He took a sip from his bottle of juice.
"Yes, I can see that," Miles didn't know what else to say so he also drank from his glass, staring at Wright. The silence grew between them, uncomfortable enough that Miles wished even for the hideous sound of the piano from before to fill it. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore. "What happened to you, Wright?" he asked.
Wright stared at him, considering. For a moment Miles thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he sighed, an embarrassed expression on his face. Like that he almost looked like his old self. "I was tricked, I supposed you heard about my-my-- the disbarral." Miles nodded. "It wasn't me, you have to believe me."
"I never thought it was," Miles admitted honestly. Wright smiled.
"Thanks."
"What are you doing here? Why didn't you fight it?"
"I did. I lost."
Miles narrowed his eyes, looking at him seriously. "Why didn't you call me? I would have helped you." And it was true, he would and Wright knew it. Should have known it. He had left everything before to help him, why didn't he ask for it now?
"You were halfway through the world, in your new and comfortable life." Was that bitterness he could hear in Wright's voice? "A life with no place for me, I suspect. Remember, you left again as if there was nothing here for you."
"That's not true," he protested.
"Yes, it is. And I got myself into this trouble; I should have been able to get myself out."
"But you didn't."
Wright shrugged.
"So why are you here? Why play the pianist, when you can't carry a tune, in this--place," he almost said hellhole, but he bit his tongue. It was bad enough as it was without adding insults to it.
Another shrug. "It pays the bills, and I can't keep my daughter without money."
"Your what?" Miles rose to his feet abruptly, staring at Wright with something akin to horror. "How--Why--Since when?"
Wright smiled, more like a smirk, and looked at the waitress who was signalling him. He stood up.
"That's a story for another day, I'm afraid. Your food is ready, Edgeworth."
He left, disappearing through a side door.
…
"So you adopted her."
Miles was back at the bar the next day and so was Wright.
He had gone back home the night before with more questions than answers, even after finding the man he was searching he couldn't get rid of the feeling his work there was not finished. He thought about it and decided it was too early to go back; there were still things that needed fixing and Wright needed his help even if he didn't want it.
Finding out about the daughter was easier than he expected, and he should have guessed it. It was a move so typical of Wright.
Wright looked up from his piano keys and smiled; dark circles under his eyes telling Miles he hadn't got much sleep. Neither had Miles, and fortunately he didn't have any of his dreams.
Maybe the shock of actually seeing Wright kept them away.
"Edgeworth, I though you would have returned to your home now you know I'm fine."
"You're far from fine, Wright. And stop that terrible noise, you're going to damage my brain," he snapped, gesturing wildly at the piano.
Wright continued torturing the keys for another minute, probably just to annoy Miles, before standing up and moving to a table. The bar was a bit fuller tonight, maybe because it was Friday or because it was earlier. Miles didn't know and didn't much care.
"You found about Trucy, then," Wirght said signalling the waitress for a drink and sitting down.
"I did, it wasn't difficult."
It had taken him barely two phone calls to tie the mysterious daughter with the Gramarye child, and then finding the adoption records had been just a question of common sense. He could remember how protective Wright had been of the Fey girls, adopting Trucy was just the way he was.
"It was her father who cost you the badge," Miles said.
Wright shook his head. "No, he wasn't the one." His expression darkened.
"Gavin."
"Yes, my dear friend Gavin." Wright drank his juice in silence, looking at everything but Miles. "You should go back home, Edgeworth," he finally said. "Now there is really nothing for you here."
Miles thought about it. When he left he had never intended to stay away for so long, he had always believed it was just a little pause, a time for them to think about the direction their relationship was taking. Nothing had ever been said, not even hinted. But Miles could feel it, every time Wright and he were together he could feel it. There was something between them and it had scared Miles enough to take a plane abroad to give himself space to think.
But that was before. Wright was right. The way he was now, there was nothing for Miles there.
"Maybe I will," he admitted. Something like pain flashed in Wright's eyes for a second, to be gone immediately. It gave Miles hope that not everything was lost. "But not yet."
Wright looked at him curiously, his head tilted to the side and his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you think you can accomplish staying here? Is there any case you need to solve?"
Miles shrugged. "No, I'm not working with the Prosecutor's office. Yet."
"Then?"
"I'll put you back on your feet, Wright, whether you like it or not," he surprised himself saying and he realized it was the truth. He wasn't going to leave before Wright was back to himself; whatever happened between them didn't matter now. Wright's life did.
Wright barked a laugh, standing up. "I'd like to see you try, Edgeworth." And he disappeared through a side door like the night before.
…
Miles didn't appear by the club for the next couple of days, too busy looking for clues, reasons and anything that helped tie Gavin to the forged evidence.
He had no luck. Whatever Gavin was, he had been careful.
Miles was sure he was the one after that, and after meeting his brother at the Prosecutor's Office and finding out he was working at that trial, the last of his doubts fled.
Now he just needed to find proof of the betrayal.
Gumshoe proved to be as useless an assistant as ever, only surpassed by Larry proving to be not only a useless assistant but also a completely worthless human being. The only task assigned to those two they were able to accomplish was locating Trucy, Wright's adopted daughter, though Miles would rather not have to speak to her so soon.
…
Miles was shown the side door on his next trip to the club.
If he thought seeing Wright playing piano had been a shock it was nothing to what he felt seeing him play poker. He really didn't seem the same person: the focused look in his eyes reminded him of the Wright at court, the one who would hound a witness until he found the truth, but that was all. He was devoid of emotions, his face as blank as he had even seen it.
And he knew how to play! That he did. Miles could see the measured way in which he judged his opponent and how he took in all small clues, using everything to his advantage.
If only he had been so good at reading people before he wouldn't be in that mess.
"Oh, Miles, hello," Wright said when the other guy finally conceded defeat and left the room fuming. "I was wondering if you had given up already."
Miles took the now empty seat in front of Wright. "You don't have much faith in me, do you?" he asked irritated. It had been just three days since the last time he saw Wright; there was no way he was going to give up so soon. Or ever.
Wright shrugged. "Well, you have this habit of running away when things get personal, and since you don't have work here and this is entirely personal--"
Miles saw red. The nerve of the guy! He stood up and slammed his hand against the table. "You have no right to say that, Wright, seeing how you ran away leaving everything behind when things got a little tough for you," he snapped, glaring. Wright glared back.
"I never ran away!"
"And what do you call this? Hiding in this hellhole while your friends fret about your well being? You call this facing your problems?" He asked snidely, feeling a moment of triumph seeing Wright wince.
"You know nothing, Edgeworth," Wright retorted standing up as well, his eyes burning with rightful indignation. "You weren't here, remember? You left again when things were moving in a direction you clearly didn't want, so don't come back now on your high horse trying to fix me!"
"You could have called me, couldn't you? You know I would come back to help you!" Miles insisted, he had said it before but it still hurt him Wright had not asked for his help.
"Do I? How could I know? You left!" Wright snapped angrily, his voice rising in the small room.
"I needed time to think!"
Both of them were clearly past the point of being reasonable, the conversation moving further away from Wright's problem into a more personal area. It was, however, a conversation they needed to have sooner or later, so he didn't stop it as he would have before.
"Time to think? You put a whole ocean between us, I have to be grateful you didn't fake your death again but you got your point across loud and clear!" Wright was flushed now, leaning forward till his face was inches apart from Miles'. At that distance it was easy to see the hurt in his eyes.
"I would have come back," he said, contrite, the anger leaving him to be replaced by an unwanted feeling of guilt. He had been so scared by the way things were progressing between them he had not taken the time to think how it would look to Wright if he left.
"And you have," Wright sighed, all the fight leaving him as well. "Pity I'm not the person you wanted anymore, but you don't need to fix me, Edgeworth. I'll survive." He closed his eyes for a second, his expression unbearably weary. "Leave now, Miles, I'm too tired to fight this battle again."
Miles stood still, staring at Wright for an interminable moment, torn between the need to flee and the almost overwhelming urge to do something, anything to erase the hurt from that face.
Finally, when the silence grew too heavy to stand, Miles turned on his heel and left.
…
He's dreaming again but this time, unlike the previous ones, he's struggling to wake up.
He's naked, which is not new, but he's alone and that makes a lot of a difference. All the arousal and excitement of the other dreams are gone and in their place there is only this terrible emptiness. Miles feels so lonely he could cry.
He looks around, searching, convinced he has to be around. He's not.
There is nothing for him to do but to wait for him to come back, Miles thinks, but knows he won't be coming back. Not ever, if he doesn’t do something about it.
He's never been so scared in his life, not even when his father died and his entire life changed drastically--but Miles knows it's time for him to do something, anything, to win him back.
Even if it's just a dream.
Especially because it's not just a dream.
…
"We need to talk."
It was another week till Miles finally gathered the courage to go to the bar again but if Wright's expression was anything to go by; he hadn't expected Miles to appear in front of him ever again.
Not that Miles had been idle the past week. After their bitter argument and Miles' show of cowardice fleeing again, he had done a lot of thinking. Wright had given up not only on him but on his past life, and even if he couldn't get him his badge back there was no way Miles would let him think everything was lost.
He still had some aces up his sleeve.
"We've talked enough, Edgeworth," Phoenix said calmly, almost as if he didn't have the energy to get angry anymore. "Nothing will change and I don't want to waste more time deciding whose fault it was it didn't work out--"
Miles didn't let him finish the sentence, wholeheartedly agreeing the time for talking was well past.
The kiss stunned Wright into silence and immobility, his eyes wide as saucers and his lips cold and unyielding. Miles' didn't let that discourage him, nor did he pay any attention to the shocked gasps and catcalls he could hear coming from the bar at the sight of their pianist being kissed by another man.
He continued pressing his lips against Wright's gently coaxing a response from him, any kind of response, darting his tongue out to slowly lick the frozen lips, his hands settling on Wright's shoulders. He could feel the roughness of Phoenix' unshaven chin against his cheek, and he made a mental note to force him to shave--anything to divert his mind from the fact that Phoenix was not responding.
He gave up after a minute of frozen immobility, his heart sinking.
Miles pulled back, searching for something in Wright's eyes, anything that told him he might succeed if he kept going. There was nothing there but unending shock.
Feeling foolish and disappointed, Miles shrugged forcing his lips to curve into a wry smile. "You are right; there is nothing else to talk about." Miles turned to leave, his face flushing under the stares of the waitress and everyone else in the bar.
He was almost at the door when he heard his name. He turned and saw Wright looking at him as if he was waking from a dream, his breath ragged and his cheeks burning.
"Miles! Wait!" Wright was out of his chair and approaching him, his expression one of utter disbelief. "You--you--" He blinked, shaking his head and grabbed Miles hand.
Miles let himself be dragged to the side door, knowing their destination was the hidden room and grateful for the privacy they were going to enjoy there. At least there his humiliation would be less.
He didn't know what Wright wanted to tell him now, his rejection so clear and public a minute before, but he felt he owed him to listen to it. At least Wright wasn't running away.
What he didn't expect was to find himself against the door the instant it closed, a very willing and eager Phoenix Wright trying to make up for lost time exploring his tonsils and everything else within reach of his tongue or fingers. Miles made a sound that was part surprise and part delight, his hands moving to Phoenix' shoulders again and melting into the kiss, his tongue mapping every inch of Phoenix' mouth.
All the frustration and feelings from his always-interrupted dreams came back with a vengeance, his arousal dizzying. Miles' pressed himself against Wright, the feeling of his hardness pressed against Miles' enough to tear a moan from his throat.
"Phoenix!" he gasped, pulling away to get much needed oxygen.
Wright moved his mouth down, clamping his lips on to Miles' throat while their bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and grinding in a frenzied rush to completion. Miles knew he was going to regret it but couldn't care less at the time, the feeling to intense. Phoenix stiffened with a cry, biting the sift skin on his neck while he rode his orgasm and Miles closed his eyes and shuddered, coming as well.
They stayed like that for a while, trying to catch their breaths. Finally Phoenix pulled back slowly, as if reluctant to do so, and looked up at Miles with an embarrassed smile.
"That was--" he trailed off, looking for the right word.
Miles had no problems supplying it. "Short? Quick? Embarrassing?"
"Good," Wright finished, scratching the back of his neck in such a familiar way Miles couldn't help but to return his smile.
"Yes, but now we really need to have that talk," Miles said, moving to sit on one of the chairs and wincing at the unpleasant feeling if his dirty underwear. "And we better make it a quick one, I need a shower."
…
"So, let me see if I get it," Wright was saying, studying Miles carefully and intently. "You want me to work for you?"
"Not for me, per se, but for the Prosecutor's Office," he confirmed.
It was the best solution he had been able to come up with, and in hindsight he didn't know why it didn't come to him sooner. It was perfect. Wright couldn't stand in court as an Attorney, but his knowledge of law was still there and he had proven himself in the field several times. Besides, that way they could keep an eye on the Gavin brothers and have access to the resources the Office possessed to help their investigation. It was a win-win situation.
"You know I can't stand in court," Wright insisted.
Miles had already thought of that. "You can't stand as an attorney, that doesn’t mean you can't be a witness, or that you can't help me."
"Isn't it usually Gumshoe the one who does this for you?"
It was, and what a great job Gumshoe did!
"He's with the police; the Prosecutor's Office has the right to have their own investigators if so they chose. And if I return to the office they won't deny me what I want."
"Are you staying here then?" Phoenix looked at him seriously, as if the answer to his next question was the deciding factor in the conversation. It probably was, now Miles thought about it. "And for how long?"
"Forever? I don't have a reason to run away anymore, Phoenix."
Phoenix smiled and kissed him again.
…
Miles is beginning to be a bit irritated by these dreams. Not that the dream is unpleasant in itself, far from it. He'd just love to finish one of them-and somehow he has the feeling it's not going to be this one.
But apart from that, he has no complains. Not with the way that wicked tongue is trailing fire down his chest, dipping into his navel and finally-finally tasting him. Miles moans.
A low chuckle reaches him, that warm mouth enveloping him and making him gasp. Everything is perfect, the perfect amount of pressure, perfect suction, perfect heat-so much Miles feels his going to explode.
He also knows this is the moment in which he usually wakes up.
The mouth releases him, a complain lodged on his throat when he feels it going further down.
"Phoenix!" he shouts.
Miles blinked quickly, the last remnants of the dream still clear in his mind. He'd known, didn't he?
"I was thinking you weren't going to wake up, Miles." An amused voice said and he looked down to see the dishevelled head of one Phoenix Wright at his crotch, a wicked smile on his lips.
He was going to say something, but the breath got stuck on his throat when Phoenix opened his mouth and swallowed him. He must be dreaming, only there was daylight coming through the blinds and he had never been able to see the face of his partner in the dream, though he had known the entire time it was Wright.
He settled for closing his eyes and surrendering to the feeling, his arousal already so painful it was a miracle he hadn't come at the mere sight. It was the same as the dream, that mouth talented enough to make him curse and moan, those lips sliding up and down his cock with excruciating slowness.
He felt the first touch to his arse and a moment of panic seized him, he was sure things wouldn't go as smoothly in that part as they did in the dreams. He was right, though the discomfort he felt when he was breached was soon eclipsed by the pleasure.
"Relax, Miles."
He did, melting back into the mattress, his hands reaching on their own accord to grab Phoenix' head. He tensed again when a second finger entered, the burning feeling this time more intense. A jolt of pleasure when through him then, and he could feel Phoenix smiling around the flesh in his mouth.
"Phoenix, what--?" he trailed off with a moan when the fingers withdrew, to return with another friend a moment later.
He stiffened, the discomfort returning twofold.
"Miles, I have to prepare you," Phoenix said, his voice strained.
"I know, it just--" hurts.
He didn't say it, riding out the pain as best as he could knowing it was going to be just temporary. And more than worth it.
The pain faded soon and Miles breathed a sigh of relief, his body relaxing again. Phoenix seemed to be reaching his limit, he climbed up Miles body and sealed his lips on a frenzied kiss, grinding against him helplessly.
If he continued like that--
"Phoenix, stop," he managed pulling away slightly.
Phoenix seemed to regain his senses, giving him a peck in the lips before positioning himself and pushing in slowly. Miles regretted it for a second, it had felt so good before and now the pain was back.
He panted, trying to catch his breath while Phoenix kept going, slowly, the burning feeling almost unbearable. He was being kissed again, the warmness and gentleness of the kiss distracting him and helping him to relax, his arousal coming back. Finally Miles felt ready, tilting his hips up he let Phoenix know.
It was gentle an slow at first, each thrust almost deliberate until it hit that spot that made Miles swear, pleasure coursing through him, the pain a distant memory. This was more like the dream, and the feeling that this time no one was going to snatch the climax from him was almost exhilarating.
They picked up the pace, their lips sealed, their breaths mingling. Miles knew he wasn't going to last much, especially when a hand curled around his cock, pulling in time with the thrusts.
"Oh-Phoenix!" he cried out, clinging for dear life to his shoulders.
Phoenix bit down on his shoulder and he was gone, his orgasm almost blinding in its intensity. A few more thrusts and Phoenix was stiffening as well, muffling his shout of pleasure on Miles' shoulder.
They didn't move for a while, their hearts beating fast and almost painfully against their chests. Finally Phoenix withdrew, moving away from the bed and returning with a wet flannel before climbing back next to Miles.
"So, have you decided what you're going to do?" Miles said, snuggling closer to Phoenix and closing his eyes contentedly.
"Yes, I think I'll give your idea a try."
"Good."
Miles yawned and let sleep claim him again. His last though was he couldn't wait for Monday to come. The look in Gavin's face would be priceless.
...