Work Text:
If Phoenix had been upfront about the whole thing, come clean and admitted that he had every intention of dropping into the pharmacy on his way home from the office to pick the meds up, he’d just gotten distracted, Miles wouldn’t have even batted an eyelid. He’d have just resolved to go pick them up on his own way to work the next morning, and that would have been that. Miles always reminded him when they were both getting low, he had reminders in his phone and apps that tracked both his own and Phoenix’s cycles, and he always requested the medications a full week before they even came close to running out.
Literally all Phoenix has to do is take the meds before bed each night and pick them up when Miles reminds him to. And normally he is so on the ball about it. Phoenix might be a bit… scatterbrained sometimes, but he is always on it when it comes to their meds because he knows how fundamental they are to their working lives.
It’s just…
Okay, so, if Phoenix ‘fessed up and said he’d forgotten to get them, Miles wouldn’t even care. It would be a complete non-issue. No drama, no harm, no foul. Said and forgotten about and they’d move on with their lives. Exceeeept… Phoenix could say that. Would cause a lot less trouble if he did. But it’s not exactly the truth. Like, at all. Actually, it would probably be the fattest fucking lie he’s ever told and he’s told some doozies in his time.
Like no, Maya, I have not been in love with Miles Edgeworth since we were kids, and yes, your Honour, I promise this line of questioning has a point, please let me finish.
Phoenix had been outside the pharmacy. He’d made the appropriate two minute detour from the office on his way home and actually gotten to the store. Been outside of it loitering like a creep for a good fifteen minutes, too. And then he’d turned right back around and headed home with his heart thundering in his chest like he’d committed the world’s most insidious crime.
Which is an overreaction, but hey, it’s Phoenix.
Thing is… Okay, the thing is. Look. Here’s the deal. Phoenix may-or-may-not have actively decided against going to collect their meds, okay? Things have been great with Miles. Absolutely spectacular, showstopping, superb, sublime, a hell of a lot of other adjectives beginning with S. Turns out you can sometimes get what you’ve wanted in the deepest parts of your heart if you gussy the fuck up and ask for them. Who knew? Not Phoenix!
So, beg Phoenix’s fucking pardon, but since asking for what he wants has worked pretty damn well in the past, he figures he can be forgiven for getting a bit hung up on the idea that it might work out for him this time, too.
Phoenix and Miles - and isn’t that just the best fucking thing? Don’t they sound just wonderful said together like that? - are solid. (Another S, he’s on a roll.) Things are great. Could not be better. Phoenix has been perpetually on cloud fucking nine for the past eight months and he cannot even come close to describing just how incandescently happy he’s been since he stuttered out his inane confession and Miles had practically bitten his face off in his eagerness to kiss him. Things are stellar.
But. But, but, but, but, but.
Hoo boy.
Miles and Phoenix - god, he should really just start scribbling hearts around their names in his case files, honestly - have been barrelling towards the finish since they met in grade school. The finish, Phoenix had initially thought, was this verging-on-disgusting level of domesticity they enjoy when they’re at home and content. Sure, when they meet in court all bets are off and it becomes Wright v. Edgeworth, rather than State v. Whoever-the-fuck-the-defendent-is-this-time. It doesn’t matter how heated things get at work because work is work and the minute they get home that’s all forgotten and it’s good.
(That is another whopping lie. More often than not they end up fucking out the frenzied heat of their combined cases like animals and it’s wonderful. Even if Phoenix is technically no longer allowed in the Prosecutor’s office and Miles has been banned from the Defendant’s Lobby on pain of disbarment. Worth it.)
He’s getting sidetracked. Point is, things could not be better. And Phoenix feels a little guilty for wanting… More.
It’s just… Phoenix has been on suppressants since he was fifteen. He’d bounced around from medication to medication until he found the one that came with the least amount of side-effects, so it doesn’t impact his life too badly. His appetite’s a bit hit-and-miss, sure, and certain smells trigger his nausea but it’s nothing too debilitating. Nothing that impacts him noticeably, for the most part. He’s relatively lucky that he lives a pretty standard life. Practically a Beta, for all appearances involved.
He’s not, he is a stone-cold Omega and he’s proud of that, even if he doesn’t publicise it. Everyone who needs to know knows and that’s that on that.
The thing Phoenix is hung up on, what’s been niggling away at the edge of his concentration for long enough that he’s started to go a little insane, is the fact that Phoenix wants to share a heat with Miles so badly he aches. It’s a monumental thing to him. And it shouldn’t be, it’s literally just biology and it’s just another thing that bodies can do. It’s so mundane it’s boring, but Phoenix has had all of three heats in his life, never shared with another person and always handled on his own and, even though it’s not as satisfying as he imagines it would be with a partner, he does enjoy them.
He’d been told when he started his suppressants that he needed to have break periods where he let his heats come on naturally so he didn’t screw up his fertility later on in case he ever did decide on having kids. He hadn’t paid much mind to that advice because when he’d been told that, the idea of being locked to an Alpha and staying barefoot and pregnant for the rest of his years had made him feel physically ill. He’d let his heats come on every few years instead of every couple of months and as far as his check-ups go he’s still “fully fertile” as his OBGYN put it. (Shudder.) So no damage has been done so far.
Phoenix hasn’t ever shared a heat with another person and has never wanted to. And then… Well. Miles. Miles fuckin’ Edgeworth happened and it’s now pretty much all Phoenix can think about.
Miles hasn’t even marked him. If his ego was just a tad more fragile, Phoenix would take that as evidence to suggest Miles doesn’t actually want him as much as Phoenix initially thought he did. But no, there’s sufficient evidence to the contrary and Phoenix sees it. Miles might think he’s subtle but when they’re curled up on the couch he nuzzles at Phoenix throat a bit too zealously, presses kisses to the skin over his glands just a bit too often to be considered coincidental.
Sometimes, during sex, Miles bares his teeth and lets loose a growl so deep Phoenix can feel it in his guts. He comes so close to sinking his teeth into Phoenix’s neck and Phoenix wants, wants, wants, but he never says it because he knows Miles would be horrified. He prizes his control too highly to just let loose and Phoenix gets it at the same time he really wishes Miles would just chill the fuck out and bite him, for fuck’s sake.
So Phoenix doesn’t get their prescriptions filled because he needs an opportunity to start the conversation he knows Miles won’t want to have. Phoenix isn’t refusing to fill it, for the record. One word from Miles and he’ll march down the pharmacy the second they open in the morning and grab the goods and won’t ever bring it up again. He just needs some kind of starting point because lord knows he hasn’t got the stones to bring this up on his own.
He has no idea how this is going to go. But he hopes it’ll go well.
His swirling thoughts and building anxieties are, as always, soothed the moment he steps through the front door. Miles is cooking something spiced and fragrant in the kitchen, humming along to the radio softly and Phoenix lingers in the doorway for a moment just so he can listen quietly until he’s inevitably noticed. His heart swells and he doesn’t stop the stupid, giddy smile that stretches across his face before he shatters the illusion by tossing his keys onto the hall table with a loud clatter.
As predicted, Miles hears and the singing stops, but is followed by a soft call of “welcome home,” that Phoenix will never in a million years tire of hearing. He follows the delicious smell of chicken and coriander and whatever the hell other spices Miles keeps a stock of but Phoenix can’t hope to name, but he’s interrupted in the door to the kitchen by his favourite Miles in the whole world. The Miles that is happy to see him after a long day, cheeks reddened by the heat of the kitchen. That’s the Miles that greets him, stepping close to press a soft kiss to Phoenix’s cheek, and then an impossibly softer one to his mouth for good measure. Phoenix’s lips tingle when he pulls away.
“Good day?” Phoenix asks even though he knows the answer. Miles hums and moves back over to the stove, stirring something in the pan that smells heavenly.
“Yes, quite good. I could use your input a bit later, if you don’t mind?” Phoenix is already nodding as he rolls his sleeves up and washes his hands in the sink. Miles smiles faintly and holds out the knife for him when he turns back round. “Diced, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, sir,” Phoenix says dutifully and takes over dicing some peppers and onions while Miles tends to whatever is simmering away on the hob. They chat inconsequentially about work and Miles is always freer with the facts when Phoenix isn’t defending so he gets to know as much of the gritty ins and outs as Miles will permit him to without verging dangerously close to a confidentiality breach. It’s nice. It’s casual, it’s intimate. And Phoenix’s skin is crawling with guilt.
“So, hey,” Phoenix says after a lull in the conversation when Miles is plating up their food. “I, uh… I was thinking…” Miles makes a questioning sound to indicate Phoenix has his attention and Phoenix loves him so much and is such a coward. “We should… repaint the bathroom.” He nearly winces.
“Oh,” Miles says, sounding… pleased? “You know, I was thinking the same thing the other day but I got quite wrapped up in the case and it slipped my mind. I’ll pick up some samples after work tomorrow.” He offers Phoenix such a lovely smile that Phoenix’s chest squeezes almost painfully with that fucking guilt. Miles thinks they’re on the same page, he thinks Phoenix gives an entire shit about what colour their fucking bathroom is. He is officially the worst.
Miles thinks he cares what colour the walls are in the room where he takes a fucking shit and has no idea Phoenix is just a coward who blurted out the first deflection he could to hide the fact that he’s a horny fucking gremlin. Also, yes, the bathroom should obviously be painted eggshell-grey, but that’s not the point.
“Great,” Phoenix says cheerfully, dying inside. “Can’t wait.” He takes his plate from Miles who leans in to give him another kiss on the cheek because he really is in a good mood, holy shit, and scurries to the table before Miles can sniff out his guilt or something like a bloodhound. He’s good like that and Phoenix really should come clean before Miles has to drag it out of him because that never ends well.
Surprise, surprise. He doesn’t. He lets dinner pass without mentioning it and through some weird twist of fate Miles doesn’t mention the meds either and they have a nice dinner together that ends with really good slow sex on the couch and Phoenix is so fucking happy and so fucking satisfied, but the afterglow doesn’t last long enough for him to fall asleep comfortable. So he lies there like the guilty asshole that he is and agonises for half the night before falling into an uneasy sleep where pharmacists are out for his blood, hunting him from the backs of giant suppressant pills with legs.
He is, emphatically, the worst.
--
Miles doesn’t mention the medication because his case gets heavy and demands all of his attention for the next week and Phoenix doesn’t mention it because Miles comes home stressed enough as it is without Phoenix adding to it with his horny problems. He honestly forgets about it after a couple of days and spends most of the week doing damage control to make sure Miles comes home to warmth and light while the case attempts to suck the soul out of him.
He sends a bouquet to Miles’ office on Wednesday because he’s not allowed to set foot in the building himself and received a text with just a single heart emoji and knows his gesture is appreciated. And he honestly doesn’t remember about the suppressants until the week is gone and Miles’ case is won and his boyfriend lets himself into the apartment and offers Phoenix a shakily victorious smile.
“There he is,” Phoenix says, heart fit to burst with the surge of affection coursing through him. “I knew you’d get him.” It’s testament to how tired Miles is that he only hangs his coat up and removes his shoes before sprawling out on top of Phoenix on the couch, lean body melting into Phoenix’s curves and edges like he belongs there. Phoenix combs his fingers through Miles’ hair softly until the last vestiges of tension drain out of him. “There. All over now. I’ve gotcha.”
Miles mumbles into Phoenix’s chest before shifting so he can nuzzle his face into his neck, nose tucked up into the divot just below his jaw. He inhales, long and slow, and makes a sleepy, pleased sound that tickles against Phoenix’s sensitive skin.
“Come again, babe? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Miles inhales again, more deliberately this time. “You smell good,” he murmurs into Phoenix’s neck. “ Really good.”
“Aw, you’re so gross,” Phoenix teases him, rubbing his shoulders. “I’m gross, I haven’t shhhh...owered…” Oh god. Oh shit, oh no. In a rush, that Really Important Thing that Phoenix absolutely should not have forgotten comes crashing back into his stupid empty brain with all the force of a fucking tsunami and he tenses so noticeably that Miles raises his head, brows pulled into a reluctant frown.
“Are you alright?” Miles asks like he doesn’t really want an answer. Ordinarily, Phoenix wouldn’t blame him and would just shush him gently and guide him back down for a cuddle and a nap. But Phoenix is - categorically - the worst and he really can’t put this off now because their meds might not have run out, but Phoenix hasn’t taken his in a week because he’s the absolute worst.
“Oh my god,” Phoenix babbles, averting his gaze and flushing from the tips of his hair to his toes. “I-- I forgot, I’m really sorry, I didn’t tell you-- I forgot and I know that’s no excuse and I didn’t set out to forget I just got distracted and-- and-- and--”
“Phoenix,” Miles says, pushing himself up into a half-sitting position above him. “Are you apologising because you haven’t showered yet today or are you apologising because you forgot to refill our prescriptions?”
“I am so-- How do you know that?” Phoenix’s voice progresses through a solid three octaves before he chokes on his own spit. He stares at Miles, panicked, but Miles is just looking at him calmly, no blame, no anger and somehow that makes him feel worse. “I was going to, I just-- Got distracted? But no, that’s not-- That’s not why I’m apologising.”
“I assumed you’d gotten distracted,” Miles says and Phoenix is a little insulted even if Miles' assumption is completely founded. “I didn’t get the notification that the medication had been dispensed like I normally do.”
“I was going to,” Phoenix says weakly. “I just… Miles, this is a whole thing. Do we have to talk about this now?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Miles says because he is cruel and vindictive and a callous lover who cares not for Phoenix. He shuffles back to the other end of the sofa but he keeps their legs tangled together so Phoenix knows he’s not in real deep shit yet.
“Aren’t you tired?” Phoenix asks somewhat desperately.
“I’m quite awake, I assure you.” Miles’ eyes spark and Phoenix realises he’s being teased. “Come on, out with it.”
“I,” Phoenix starts, then makes a pained sound. “I.”
“You can do it, Phoenix, I believe in you.”
“You are such an asshole.”
“Well done! That was a full sentence, I’m very impressed.”
Phoenix flushes redder. “I know you’re mocking me, but you know that if you keep talking to me like that I’m gonna get hard and then it’ll be all your fault.”
Miles winks at him, the bastard. “I’m fully prepared to take full responsibility for that.”
Phoenix throws a cushion at him then regrets it because now he has nothing to smother himself with. “I was… Going. To get the meds. And I will. Like, I absolutely will, I need you to know that. I didn’t plan not to and I didn’t plan on forgetting to take them for this week I just forgot, you know what I’m like and I am totally prepared to go get the shot so my cycle doesn't jumpstart and fuck everything up. I just-- I started thinking about-- It got a bit out of hand and I wanted--” Phoenix covers his face with both hands and rushes out, “IreallywanttospendmyheatwithyouokayI’msorry.”
He can’t look at Miles. He absolutely cannot. He will not. He may never be able to look at him again and they’ll have to spend the rest of their relationship talking through walls or using Maya as some kind of weird intermediary. They can make it work, probably, if Phoenix ever wants to talk to Miles again without bursting into flames.
“I don’t want to prolong your mortification, darling, but I didn’t catch a single word of that,” Miles says and sounds genuinely apologetic about it. “Do you think you could repeat that just a bit slower?”
“Oh, my god!” Phoenix moans into his palms. “I want to spend my heat with you, okay?! That’s why I didn’t fill our prescriptions! I was going to use it as a conversation point when you inevitably reminded me! You were supposed to be like ‘Phoenix, did you pick up our medication?’ And I was going to be like ‘oh, damn, sorry, babe, totally forgot, but while we’re on the subject, do you think you’d be okay with me going into heat so you can absolutely wreck me for a few days?’” Phoenix lowers his hands but still can’t bring himself to meet Miles’ eyes. He wishes he’d looked properly at Miles one last time before he Fucked Up so he could’ve at least committed him fully to his memory.
“Phoenix,” Miles says and the sofa dips as he leans forward and then slender fingers are prising open his own tightly bunched fists, twining their fingers tightly together. “Phoenix, darling, look at me.”
Well, how is Phoenix meant to deny that? He raises his head reluctantly, blinking in surprise when he’s met with Miles’ intense gaze but there’s no anger there. His grey eyes are burning, but there’s no fury in them. Determination, maybe. A little bit of regret which makes zero sense. “Darling, do you really believe I wouldn’t want to spend your heat with you?”
“I,” Phoenix says eloquently. “No? Yes? I didn’t think about it. Haven’t thought about it. Well. I have, like, obsessively. But only recently. I didn’t want to pressure you or anything. But you never said anything about it and you haven’t… Marked me or anything.” Phoenix’s voice wobbles a tiny bit and, okay, maybe he’s a bit more tender about that than he thought he was.
“Phoenix,” Miles breathes, curling a finger under his chin to tilt his head up so he can’t look away like he wants to. “I don’t have the words to tell you how badly I want that.”
“Hhhwha,” Phoenix says.
Miles smiles faintly and it’s tinged with something like sheepishness. “Phoenix, I… Feel like we’ve stumbled into something of a misunderstanding. I would never suggest I thought you should come off your suppressants unless you said something first because I didn’t want to pressure you. I would love to spend your heat with you. Not to say I don’t… very much enjoy things as they are.” A faint dusting of pinks spreads across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose and the rush of love that surges through Phoenix’s chest nearly kills him. “I just assumed you’d bring it up if it was something you wanted, too.”
“I do,” Phoenix blurts out. “Miles, it’s driving me crazy, it’s been all I’ve been able to think about. I love things the way they are, please don’t think I don’t. It’s not lacking, I just… I’ve never spent my heat with anyone and… I’d really like to…” He trails off because, frankly, all of Phoenix’s christmases have come at once and he doesn’t quite know how to handle that.
Thankfully Miles takes pity on him because he is a wonderful and devoted lover. “Phoenix Wright,” he says, lifting Phoenix’s hand to his mouth and brushing his lips softly over the back of it in a move so tender it makes Phoenix’s spine tingle. “Will you bond with me?”
Phoenix starts crying. He can’t help it! He’s always been a crybaby.
“Yes, you doofus,” Phoenix yells, throwing himself at Miles who catches him easily and winds him into a loving embrace. Miles hums happily and rests his chin on the top of Phoenix’s head and he smells like safety and reassurance and home.
Phoenix loves him so much.
--
They discuss it in abundant detail before Phoenix gets anywhere near his pre-heat. They stop taking their suppressants as of Saturday, though Phoenix keeps taking his contraceptives because they aren’t using his heat for that just yet. (A terrifying prospect, honestly.) A week of missed suppressants don’t fuck with his cycle too badly; the only noticable difference is that Phoenix’s scent gets stronger and he starts attracting a bit more attention whenever he goes out. That’s a bit weird, but expected, and Phoenix can’t be too miffed about it because by extension Miles notices and that easily makes up for it.
By the middle of the second week, the entire apartment smells like a delicious combination of the two of them, their usual masked scents saturating the air in a heady combination that makes them both dizzy if they don’t air the apartment out regularly. Miles’s scent is always present if a bit faint, but off his medication it is almost overpowering and Phoenix spends the next couple of days floating about on a cloud that smells like lavender and bergamot and ink. He drowns in it and always rolls onto Miles’ side of the bed immediately after he vacates it in the mornings so he can shove his face into Miles’ pillow and breathe.
Phoenix can’t smell his own scent unless it’s mingled with Miles’ and doesn’t think much of it, really. Smells kind of warm? Not unpleasant but unremarkable and nowhere near as mouth-watering as Miles’.
He is, apparently, incorrect, because Miles’ new thing that he does the moment either of them get home is to bury his face in the crook of Phoenix’s neck and inhale like he’s been starved of oxygen for too long and has only just remembered how to breathe. He also presses soft, teasing kisses over Phoenix’s scent gland like a promise and it makes his knees go a bit weak.
By unspoken agreement they’ve decided not to have sex again until Phoenix’s heat hits proper and it’s definitely causing some pleasant tension between them. Phoenix is going slowly mad and he’s loving every second of it, finds it hard not to when he catches Miles’ eyes following him when he walks from the bathroom to the bedroom with nothing but a towel around his waist, gaze darkening as he takes in every inch of skin on display.
When Phoenix’s pre-heat does finally hit, it’s nearly a full two weeks after they first spoke about it and Phoenix is honestly surprised it took that long. The first time he took a break in his meds, his full heat hit not even two days later, but it’s been a good few years since his last break so it makes sense that it would take a while to kick in fully this time.
He wakes a lot slower than he normally does, consciousness coming to him in reluctant waves, skin damp at the backs of his knees and the base of his spine. It doesn’t help that he has the full furnace that is Miles off of his suppressants plastered against his back, nuzzling into the soft hair at the nape of his neck in his sleep. Miles normally runs quite cool but since he’d stopped taking his own medication he’s been running a lot hotter and he’s also more tactile and while Phoenix absolutely does not mind, he doesn’t think he could handle this level of physical contact for prolonged periods of time.
He’s also starving, which is a pretty good indicator that his heat is well on its way. His body is getting a bit softer in places, too, trying to store up energy for the prolonged period of… activity he’s going to be subjecting it to in short order. The hunger is so pressing that he reluctantly peels himself away from the sleepy Alpha trying to wind around him like an eel and when Miles makes a soft keening sound Phoenix nearly weeps at the pain of separation.
“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to get some food,” Phoenix promises. At that, Miles is instantly alert, reaching out to pull Phoenix back into bed and tucking the duvet in around him before getting up himself and disappearing into the kitchen. Phoenix listens to him clatter around with slowly dawning realisation until he reappears with an entire tray laden with toast, cereal, orange juice and coffee.
“I’m not in heat yet,” Phoenix says, amused, but takes the tray eagerly anyway. Miles simply shrugs one shoulder and settles back into bed with his own cup of tea, drawing Phoenix in to lean against his side while he eats. Miles isn’t acting too differently, Phoenix would probably be concerned if he was, but he definitely can’t tolerate much distance while Phoenix is slowly approaching his heat, which is nice. They’re not overtly touchy-feely, but they definitely have their moments, so it’s kind of like those moments have just stretched into one prolonged happening.
“Won’t be long now,” Phoenix says between mouthfuls of toast and coffee. “You ready?”
“Very much so,” Miles murmurs, voice low. Phoenix shivers.
“Think you can keep up with me?” Phoenix asks, attempting for levity even while his spine tingles at the promise in Miles’ eyes.
Miles’ answering smile isn’t much more than a slow curl of his lips, but it’s tinged with something predatory and Phoenix has never seen that look on his face before and is starting to think that he may not actually survive this heat at all.
They’re as ready as they’ll ever be and Phoenix can’t help wishing it would just hurry up and happen already. The anticipation is killing him.
--
Phoenix regrets every decision he has ever made that led him here because he is dying and everything hurts and he honestly doesn’t think he can go on living like this.
Okay, it’s not that bad but it’s still pretty bad and that’s saying something because Phoenix has come close to death quite a few times in his life and they’ve never felt as dire as this. It’s Thursday, just over three weeks since he stopped taking his suppressants, and he’s not been feeling bad, a bit tired but nothing too discomfiting, which is why he’d been fully intent on actually working today. But the moment he comes to he knows he won’t be leaving the house for a very long time.
He’s never been more relieved to be his own boss.
Miles is conspicuously absent but Phoenix doesn’t really have the energy to care about that right now. He throws the duvet off because he is sweltering underneath it, then immediately regrets it because without it he is freezing, unable to suppress the shiver that ripples through him as the cold autumn air wisps in through the open window and hits his feverish skin. His clothes are scraping uncomfortably at his flesh too and he wrenches his shirt and boxers off like they’ve actively trying to kill him, throwing them in a sweaty heap onto the floor and curling up into a ball to die.
Everything aches and that’s not even an overstatement. There’s pain radiating out from the base of his spine, out through his hips and up into his shoulders, an insistent ache that only worsens with each new shiver that he tries to suppress. The sheets feel like sandpaper against his skin, which is saying something because Miles is weird about his sheets. He won’t go below seven hundred because he’s Miles and he’s weird, but since they stopped taking their suppressants he begrudgingly allowed Phoenix to put some measly five-fifty sheets on because they were just going to get ruined anyway, but he absolutely refused to go below that.
Phoenix regrets it now because the sheets hurt when he buries his face in them, dragging uncomfortably across his flushed skin and making him hiss in discomfort as he tries in vain to find a position that doesn’t make his body shriek in protest.
“Darling?” Miles’ low voice fades in as though from a great distance and then there’s something blessedly cool pressing against Phoenix’s forehead and he whines, blindly nuzzling forward into the touch because it quiets the burn flickering insistently under his skin. “Oh, my love…” Miles’ arms are around him then and Phoenix buries his face in Miles’ chest, hissing when the fabric of his shirt scrapes across his face. “Careful, now.”
“Miles,” Phoenix gasps out, clutching at the awful shirt covering his boyfriend’s chest.
“I’m here,” Miles soothes him, pressing a kiss to his blisteringly hot forehead. His lips feel like ice against his skin and it’s so good. “You should eat something first.”
Phoenix shakes his head even though it makes him dizzy. “Miles,” he says again because he can’t find the words to communicate that he can’t eat right now and that it hurts and he wants it to stop.
“Alright,” Miles says because he’s perfect. “Easy now, let me take care of you.”
He could be speaking German for all Phoenix understands him, but it doesn’t matter what he’s saying, just that he keeps talking because his voice washes over Phoenix like the coolest water, easing away the fire licking across his skin and when he nuzzles his cheek to Phoenix’s, his scent washes over him heady and reassuring and Phoenix wants.
He’s dimly aware that he’s being moved, but only because the rough fabric at his cheek moves and is suddenly at his back which is weird but he can’t hold onto the thought for longer than a few seconds, and then there are cool hands on the inside of his thighs so close to where he wants them but not close enough. Something nudges under his hips and he doesn’t know what and doesn’t particularly care because then Miles is kissing him, soft and slow but with a heated intent in every intoxicating brush of his lips and then his tongue, slipping into Phoenix’s mouth and caressing the roof of his mouth, the backs of his teeth, stealing his breath and the last scraps of his coherency.
“Oh, Phoenix,” Miles sighs against his lips, cool breath fanning across Phoenix’s face. “I want…”
“Yes,” Phoenix babbles. “Yes, yes, please, Miles.”
With a groan, Miles surrenders and when Phoenix reaches for him he nearly weeps because that awful shirt is gone and there’s nothing between his trembling fingers and the smooth, hard planes of his partner’s skin. Miles’ lips press heated kisses along his jaw, down to his neck where he nips lightly and Phoenix can’t help the gasps that drags out of him and it’s very possible that he’s begging but he can’t hear anything over the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.
“Yes?” Miles purrs into his ear and Phoenix shudders and moans, clutching at his shoulders like he’s afraid he’s going to fall apart if he lets go and he really thinks he might.
“Yessss,” Phoenix hisses and Miles. Oh, Miles… Miles bites him.
Phoenix thinks he comes. He’s not sure, can’t be certain, but the moment Miles’ teeth break his skin, pleasure lances through him from the location of the bite, all the way down to his gut where it coils and clenches, shuddering out of him in waves. His hips jerk sporadically and Miles pins him down with his hips pressed tightly to Phoenix’s to still him, and then his tongue is searing over the place he’s just bitten, soothing away the ache that settles there right down to his bones.
“Miles,” Phoenix chokes out. He might be crying.
“Mine,” Miles says roughly, licking over the bite in response. The bite and the resulting euphoria have served another purpose, and Phoenix breaks through the haze clouding his mind for a few, precious, lucid seconds. Long enough for him to lean up and sink his own teeth into the skin between Miles’ neck and shoulder. Miles jerks and stiffens against him, letting out a ragged moan through clenched teeth.
Something settles between them, even as everything else lights up with the electricity of arousal crackling along Phoenix’s skin. He can feel it in every beat of his heart and every answering thud that ripples into him through where Miles’ chest is pressed to his. He’s been marked and claimed and he can’t think past the rightness of it, never wants to forget how this feels.
“Phoenix,” Miles says, urgent and low. “Phoenix.”
Phoenix nods and spreads his legs, tilting his hips up. If he had his way he’d be on his knees, ass up and presenting, but Miles won’t take him like that. Never has. Not yet, but god, Phoenix wants him to so badly and he’s not beyond begging for it. He doesn’t have to beg now but he does, words falling gracelessly and near-incoherently from lips he can still taste Miles’ skin on.
When Miles’ fingers slip between his legs for the first time, Phoenix’s vision goes white. He screws his eyes up tight, breath catching painfully in his throat, and if he had any more sense right now he’d be mortified at how slick he is, how open, how desperate . As it is, the soft sound of reverence that rumbles through Miles’ chest is enough to allay that fear. And his fingers are pressing deep but it’s not enough and Phoenix sobs even as Miles kisses his cheeks softly, peppering soothing words onto his skin amidst the kisses that Phoenix can’t understand.
“Please,” Phoenix gasps wetly, grinding down against Miles’ fingers for more, more, he doesn’t care, there’s an itch inside his bones that he can’t reach alone and Miles is so close to where Phoenix needs him to be but it’s not enough--
A low growl rips from Miles’ throat, loud enough to still Phoenix’s impatient hips, deep enough to steal his breath. “Wait,” Miles warns him, nuzzling his nose against the aching bite on Phoenix’s neck to soothe him. “I know what you want, I know, but I won’t hurt you. Trust me.”
“I do, I do, I do,” Phoenix pants. “Please, Miles, please, I can’t take it, please--”
“Patience, mein Liebster,” Miles soothes, twisting his fingers and making Phoenix’s body buckle. “You can’t take me yet.”
“I can,” Phoenix sobs, digging his nails into Miles’ shoulders. “I can, I can, please.”
Miles growls again and Phoenix wants to bottle that sound and keep it forever. Rich and rumbling and possessive, it washes over Phoenix and stokes the fire that is already raging in his belly. But then Miles’ fingers are gone and Phoenix can’t help the anguished sound that rips out of him, hole clenching down desperately on nothing and feeling so terribly empty that he can’t stand it.
Then something much bigger takes their place.
“So impatient,” Miles hisses, leaning his forehead against Phoenix’s. “I should make you wait. I shouldn’t give in because it will only encourage you.”
“No-- No, please, please, Miles, don’t--” Phoenix is cut off when that bigger something pushes into his aching body, shoving all the air up out of his lungs, carving out space inside him and leaving room for nothing else. Miles himself must be too far gone to relish the intoxicating first slide in the way he usually does; his hips rock forward in one smooth movement, punching a ragged cry out of Phoenix’s ruined throat and filling him so perfectly that tears leak out from beneath lids screwed shut in painful ecstasy.
“Miles!” Phoenix cries, legs wrapping around his hips like a vice. Miles groans long and loud into Phoenix’s throat that he bears happily to his Alpha, a great shudder rippling through his body and into Phoenix’s. “Yes-- Yes, god, Miles, please, fuck me, fuck me, I need it--”
Miles bites him as their hips press flush together, not as hard as his first claiming bite, but it still aches deliciously when he closes his mouth over the reddened skin. Phoenix babbles nonsensically, clenching around the heavy cock dragging against his insides. For a moment Miles’ teeth tighten around his flesh and Phoenix moans raggedly in response, and then Miles is pulling out slowly and Phoenix’s body clutches desperately to try and get him to stay inside.
“ Mein Schatz,” Miles pants against his skin. “Darling-- You have to-- You have to let go. Otherwise I can’t fuck you the way you need.”
Miles doesn’t swear often, so the sound of the rare expletive stabs deep into Phoenix hard enough to make him gasp and his legs to slacken slightly around Miles’ waist. The shock doesn’t last long because the moment Phoenix releases his grip on Miles’ waist he’s off, pounding into Phoenix for all he’s worth and Phoenix can only hold on for dear life as Miles’ cock plunges deep and chokes the breath from his lungs.
"That's it. That's it, darling. You're taking me so well. Look at you... Just look at you. So perfect. So beautiful, Phoenix."
Phoenix can’t manage words anymore. Miles' soft words are a perfect counterbalance to the ferocity of his thrusts. Phoenix is drowning in it at the same time fire crackles up his spine, radiating out from where Miles is hitting inside him, spearing pleasure through him and tearing strangled cries from Phoenix’s throat. Pleasure builds relentlessly, insides stuttering and clenching as Miles drives into him with a force Phoenix has never felt from him before. His fingers ache from how hard he’s digging them into Miles’ shoulders and when they’re done they’re going to be covered in bruises and bite marks and-- and--
“--!!”
Phoenix might scream. He doesn’t remember. Something snaps inside him and then he’s coming and there’s only pleasure and the rush of blood in his ears and somewhere far away he can hear Miles calling for him, voice cracking in the middle and then he’s lost and he hasn’t got the strength to hold on anymore but it’s okay, because Miles’ arms are around him and he’s so full he’s breathless with it.
“...back to me. Come back, Phoenix, it’s okay, I have you. I have you. I have you. There you are, my sweet. Oh, hush now, don't cry. It's okay, I've got you.”
Phoenix sobs, pushing his face into Miles’ sweat-damp chest. “D-don’t,” he gasps shakily into his skin, delirious with pleasure and the almost-painful-heavy-sweet stretch of a knot swelling inside him. “Don’t-- Don’t ever l-leave me,” Phoenix sobs into Miles’ chest.
“Never,” Miles promises hoarsely, stroking a hand through Phoenix’s sweat-slicked hair. “Never, mein Liebster.”
He might say more but Phoenix’s tenuous hold on cognizance is slipping. He feels carved out and raw inside in the best of ways, claimed and taken and satisfied down to his bones.
It won’t last long, he knows this. It’s the nature of heats to take him past the point he wouldn’t be able to stand otherwise. But Miles is here with him, so he won’t be going alone.
--
“I c-can’t…”
“Yes, you can.”
“I c-can’t, Miles, I can’t.”
“Just one more, Schatzi, I know you can. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“Y-yes…”
Phoenix knows if he said it outright, Miles would stop immediately and wouldn’t touch him again until Phoenix said it was okay. Even through his lust-addled brain he knows that like he knows how to breathe. Miles would never hurt him, never coerce him, he’s not capable of that. And Phoenix doesn’t want Miles to stop but he doesn’t know if he has it in him to come again. His skin feels raw everywhere Miles isn’t touching him, and in the places he is it feels as though he’s being branded. Still, he can’t get close enough, and the evidence is clear in the darkening bruises on both their shoulders and hips.
“For me,” Miles purrs, and he is purring, the sound rumbling deliciously through his chest all at once calming and enticing. Miles only ever purrs when he’s deeply content; sleepy Sundays spend watching Steel Samurai reruns, watching the sun creep over the horizon from their bedroom window when they stayed up too late talking into the early hours and it feels like there’s only the two of them in the world.
Phoenix doesn’t know how long his heat has lasted. He’s been able to piece things together in stolen moments of clarity when Miles has brought him food and water and gently cleaned them off with soft washcloths, but other than in those moments time has ceased to exist. There is only Miles and desire and pleasure. Phoenix feels drunk with it, intoxicated by it.
“I…” Phoenix tongue darts out to wet lips left dry by broken cries and stuttered gasps. “I…”
Miles kisses him softly, right over his heart. Then his hands are at Phoenix’s hips, gently turning him over and lifting him onto loose knees with a steady hand over his belly. Phoenix’s breath hitches and Miles presses another tender kiss to the centre of his spine. When he straightens up his hands stroke gently over Phoenix’s aching hips and his cock kisses wetly against Phoenix’s abused hole.
“Oh, god,” Phoenix bites out on a shudder.
“Tell me, Phoenix.”
He’s in the last stretches of his heat. He can feel it ebbing away, feel his skin cooling. But still, he wants. “Yes-- Yes. Miles, please.”
Miles slides home and Phoenix shouts perfect agony to the heavens.
--
Phoenix usually sleeps through the last moments of his heat. This time he’s awake for most of it, stealing snatches of reluctant sleep despite his bone-deep exhaustion because he doesn’t want to miss a moment. Miles wants him to rest but can deny him nothing and has settled for the happy compromise of letting Phoenix lie on his chest while their combined purrs lull them into a languid state, euphoric state of half-conscious bliss.
The sun is setting and, with it, ebbs the last of the fever from Phoenix’s body and mind. In a little while Miles will insist they shower and they’ll go back onto their suppressants, but Phoenix feels the irrevocable change inside himself, wears the evidence of it proudly in the mark on his shoulder.
In a delightfully obscene counterpoint to their gentle positions, Miles has three of his fingers buried inside of Phoenix still, because his lucidity might be slowly returning, but Phoenix’s body is in a delicate state right now, both physically and within his mind, and the hollow feeling left behind in the absence of his partner’s knot had distressed him almost to tears. It’s not much - Phoenix would honestly prefer a plug at this point but Miles had bared his teeth and snarled at the suggestion - but it’s enough to keep Phoenix calm and sedate.
“Love you,” Phoenix mumbles, faintly aware that he’s dribbling on Miles’ left pectoral, who doesn't seem to mind.
“I love you, as well,” Miles murmurs back, purrs hitching ever so slightly. “But I think it best if we limit how often we do this. I could barely keep up with you. Perhaps every few months, hm?”
Phoenix is much too tired to grin but he gives it a valiant effort. “Agreed. But you definitely owe me a rut after this.”
Miles’ laughter is soft and incredibly fond. “Oh, darling,” he says, carding his fingers through Phoenix’s hair. “You’re the only one who could handle me.”