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The campsite in area eight, Windward Plains is not typically a great place to set up a pop-up camp. It is in too wide of an area, clearly visible to anything with eyes, a keen nose, and a knack for destroying temporary living spaces. But on occasion in the dead of night, no threatening monsters roam close; during the season of plenty one would expect it to be busy with roaming monsters large and small, but as mentioned before: on occasion in the dead of night, no threatening monsters roam close.
It is on nights like these that Phoenix finds himself laying on his side, his upper body twisted so that his chest lays atop the soft golden grass, his arms holding him up, and his behind exposed to the open air, where there are two slick fingers sliding in and out of him at a slow and leisurely pace. He fists the grass beneath him, grunting softly when the calloused pads of his hunting partner’s digits brush against his prostate. They split and scissor him and he can’t help but whimper and rock back against those oil coated fingers.
“Miles… fuck, I need more.” He mumbles into the hood of his jacket. Those divine fingers increase their speed and Phoenix chokes on a sob. “Miles- Miles, I, ah- fuck!” His fingers are ruthless. The soft and gentle attention to his prostate swapped in favor of nailing the spot with the mind-numbing precision only capable of a longsword prodigy.
Phoenix jerks his head back to glare at Miles. It is ineffective. Mostly due to the fingers in his ass, the flush in his cheeks, and the simple fact that he cannot keep his face straight for longer than half a second. Miles is relentless in his pace and he knows there isn’t much Phoenix can do like this; half splayed out on the grass, taking whatever Miles gives him, his cock leaking droplets of pre come on his stomach. He must look more of a whore than a professional hunter of monsters. Miles just smirks in the face of Phoenix’s poor attempt at intimidation, leans over a little to squeeze his neglected cock, and the man wails and bucks his hips.
“What is that look for, dearheart?” Miles asks, mischief dancing light on his tongue. Phoenix only groans in response, ducking his head back down into his arms.
“I won’t know what you want if you don’t speak up.” Miles punctuates his sentence by purposely missing Phoenix’s prostate and a delightful shiver runs down his spine at the growl he releases in frustration. “Phoenix-”
Phoenix grabs Miles’ wrist in a death grip and yanks his fingers from deep within. He bites off the tail end of a whimper at the loss of those fingers in him, and removed violently so, but he cannot handle anymore teasing, not tonight. He places shaky hands on Miles’ chest and pushes him onto his back, the grass cradling his figure. Phoenix snarls at the flush rising on Miles’ face and he moves to quickly stand, shoving his pants the rest of the way off and then falling roughly onto his knees, straddling Miles’ waist. He claws at Miles’ belt, nearly ripping the buckle through the fabric.
“For the love of- Phoenix I’m not going anywhere.” Miles chastises batting his hands away and working his pants off himself.
“Yeah, well you’re driving me up the damn wall.” He leans over Miles and buries his face in the crook of his neck, leaving hot open mouthed kisses all along the stretch of skin and nipping at his pulse point. He grinds his cock against Miles’ newly freed erection, moaning in each other’s ears.
“Inside me. Now.” Phoenix demands, sitting back up and grabbing Miles, stroking him with calloused fingers, idly playing with his foreskin. Miles chuckles, his eyes darting off to the side as he palms in the grass for the vial of oil he’d used earlier. He pats around in the grass until he feels a smooth glass bottle. It is easy to find, since it is cold to the touch. When Miles brings it up to his face it is snatched from his fingers by eager and desperate hands.
He smiles up at Phoenix. Watching the spiky-haired hunter struggle to uncork the bottle. “Do you need help, Wright?”
“No. Edgeworth,” he grumbles. A moment later there’s a soft pop. The cork tossed carelessly into the grass and in sweet, sweet retaliation, he drips cold oil right onto Miles’ weeping dick. Miles hisses and tries to shove Phoenix off of him in shock, but Phoenix is quicker. He wraps his hand around Miles again and works the oil along his length.
Miles lets him, the shock of cold having finally subsided, replaced with the delicious drag of Phoenix’s heated hand. He looks up at Phoenix and sees blue-brown eyes staring back at him. He leans forward as best as he can on the backs of his arms, and Phoenix leans down to meet him in a searing kiss, their tongues dancing across each other in a mixture of heavy breaths and saliva. Phoenix breaks away first. He aligns himself with Miles and before he can lean back up and kiss him again, he sinks down on his cock.
“Fuuuuck…” Miles moans, his arms giving out and the back of his head hits the ground with a soft thud. Despite all his fingering Phoenix is still incredibly tight and the man burns just as hot as a Teostra supernova. For a moment he’s worried Phoenix won’t be able to fully seat himself before he finds his release, but he grits his teeth and breathes heavily through his nose, nostrils flared.
Phoenix notices and grins. His grin, wicked. “Alright there, Miles?”
His face burns. A shaky nod is all he can manage.
“Didn’t hear that. Gotta use your words.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughs, squeezes himself around Miles, and has the audacity to say, “I am fucking myself on your cock, actually, so...”
The last straw, broken, but all in good fun. Miles, with newfound strength and the desire to have this incorrigible man incapable of speaking, grabs his hips and digs his fingers in hard enough to bruise.
Phoenix’s mischievous giggling tappers off into nervousness.
“Miles?” Phoenix smiles sheepishly.
“Phoenix.” Miles smiles back, then pushes Phoenix rest of the way down as he thrusts up into him, bottoming out. The guttural moan that rips from Phoenix’s throat sends a new wave of warmth swooping low in his stomach.
Miles keeps Phoenix steady as he thrusts up into him, hips snapping up at nearly break-neck speed. Phoenix bouncing on his cock, mouth open and eyes dilated, lost and in love. He takes the relentless place without complaint, largely in part because he is unable to utter a single letter, word, or sentence without it tumbling into various breathless whines, whimpers, and moans. He leans over Miles, slightly, bracing his hands on his chest as he tries to match his pace, but his thighs begin to quiver with the effort.
“Are you close?” Miles whispers.
Phoenix nods, his walls fluttering and spasming around Miles. “Yes, fuck, yes…”
Miles grunts, lifting Phoenix gently off of him. The man’s eyes flash with hurt, the sudden emptiness making him reach for Miles’s shirt. Miles shushes him and lays him on his back, crawling over him, and entering Phoenix once more. Phoenix traps Miles with his legs, wrapping around his waist, and begins to thrust anew.
The new position is divine, but it doesn’t last long. Phoenix’s back arches and his thighs shake as he comes, splattering his stomach in white. He reaches loosely for the lapel of Miles’ jacket with one hand, while ripping blades of grass from the ground with the other, determined to ride out his orgasm and pull Miles’ out along with him.
And it works. Phoenix is beautiful like this. His ears all the way down to his collarbone, painted in a beautiful, heated, red. Chest rising and falling as he comes down from his orgasm. The tightness of Phoenix’s hole, the sweet noises he makes as Miles bottoms out with each pass at the sensitive bundle of nerves inside.
Miles buries himself inside, a quiet moan slipping past his parted lips as he comes deep inside Phoenix. Much to Phoenix’s dismay, it isn’t long before he pulls out, ignoring Phoenix’s whine, and collapses on his side next to him, curling an arm around his waist.
It is quiet for a while, save for the sounds of nocturnal wildlife. The two of them gazing up at the stars.
“My ass is sore.” And with that the silence is shattered.
Miles snickers, and Phoenix leans over him to grin in his face and kiss him quiet.
“I’m gonna have a hard time hunting tomorrow and you’re laughing about that,” Phoenix shoves his shoulder. “Dick.”
“Yes, well, you were begging for it earlier.”
Phoenix gapes at Miles. Eyes wide and cheeks burning. It would almost seem that Miles had shut him up for good.
“Don’t leave your mouth open like that darling, wouldn’t want you to choke on a scoutfly now, would we?” Miles hums, face diabolically smug.
Finally, Phoenix finds his voice. “…I’m gonna go bathe in the river,” he stands up hastily, struggling to tug his jacket off his sweat-soaked body. “You aren’t invited!”
It is a bluff and Miles calls it. “Alright, be there in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” Phoenix, mumbles, tone mocking. He strides down the slight incline, naked as the day he was born, lit by the moonlight.
Miles watches him from a distance for a while. Smiling to himself. Nights like these are rare, but they are his favorite and deeply special, because he gets to spend them with Phoenix Wright.