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That last case was, hands down, the most stressful of my career to date. And that's saying something, considering my cases always seem so down to the wire. It's the stress, that's gotta be it. That's probably why I initially thought this was a good idea. After all, between the suicide note and all his help with that last case, this is probably a good time to reconnect with Edgeworth.
So I bought a carton of beer, we ordered some pizza, Edgeworth brought his own wine, and Larry was talking animatedly about his latest girlfriend, Heidi — standard guys' night in between old friends, right? Then, three beers in, Larry decides he's going to ask Heidi if she's up for a third person joining them because he wants to "do her like in A Hot Wife Blindfolded or watch her reenact Fetish Fanatic 17," and it all goes downhill.
"Dude, you know what I'm talking about, right? I know you've seen A Hot Wife." Larry throws a playful punch at my shoulder. "Dana was sooo hooot in that one."
Well, actually, I mostly watched that one for Xander, but more importantly, I don't want to be having this discussion in front of Miles Edgeworth. The last thing I need is to give Edgeworth more ammunition for our regular banter — not being in court doesn't take the bite out of it. But it's too late for denial, so I just gotta hope this ends quickly.
"Y—yeah. I think the blindfold made all the difference."
"Ooh, see? You get me, man." Larry takes another swig of his beer, sprawling more fully on the couch. "What wouldn't I give to see Annika make out with Heidi though!"
Nope. Not a chance.
"You know, I'm seein' a lot of potential in the newcomers this round." All dreamy-eyed now, Larry continues, "Barely Out of School was so good…"
(Ugh…) I cringe, slumping. (Remind me to keep you away from Pearls…)
"For your sake, Larry, I hope that isn't as illegal as it sounds," Edgeworth mutters drily, sipping his red wine.
"Wh—whaaat?!"
Wincing away, I catch Edgeworth doing the same further away on his armchair. (Good neighbors, I'm sorry!)
"Of course not! What do you take me for?!" Larry wails, stomping his foot indignantly. "How can you call yourself a friend, Edgey? How?!"
"Larry!" (I'm going to get evicted, aren't I? Homeless Phoenix, living out of the office…)
Fortunately, he at least knows how to take a hint and quiets down with a huff. "I'll have you know they're all legal." He crosses his arms. "Haven't you watched Glee?"
Edgeworth looks warily at us. "Surely you mean the musical television series and not— not—"
"Uh…" (Why would you think— No, actually, you would. You totally would.) "Pretty sure he's talking about older actors portraying younger characters here." (Though someone out there might have made a Glee porno. I wouldn't know.)
"I'm torn though… Annika or Remy?" Suddenly, Larry is back on topic with a full bottle. "C'mon, Nick, you've seen 'em both. Help a guy out here. What do you think?"
(Wait. I haven't seen Heidi though!) "Uh…" I glance at Edgeworth — he's draining his wine glass. I finish my beer. M—maybe we'll all get too drunk tonight to remember any of this. A man can hope! "I um… R—Remy. She looks sweet and is a great actress."
"Oh, yeah… Didn't she win a whole bunch of awards for your new favorite, the Temptation of Eve?"
To avoid burying my head in my hands, I grab another beer. (Oh god, kill me now.) "Mm." (If I don't die of embarrassment first! Now he even knows what I like to fap to…)
"Hey, have you seen that one, Edgey? It seems like your kind of thing."
(H—how do you figure?!)
"Or maybe you'd like Nick's old favourite, All American Girls?"
(That's it, Larry. I am never sharing porn recommendations with you again. Ever!)
"Nick's into the sweet-faced ones — what was her name, Kayla? Kylie?"
(Feeling… faint… Cold… sweat…) "Karla." (James sure gave her a run for my attention though.)
"Karla! That's it! I gotta say, I like her too. Well, Edgey?"
Edgeworth mumbles something into his wine glass.
"What's that?"
Very deliberately, Edgeworth sets his glass down and reaches for the wine bottle. "I said," he refills his glass intently, and if he focused on it any harder, it might superheat, "I'm gay. I don't watch straight pornography."
"Oh. Any actors you like?"
It isn't till he whips around to fix his patented glare on me that I realize that was me speaking. (Phoenix, brain, mouth, link!)
"Uh…" I scratch my head, sweating nervously. "I uh… I'm bi…? Oh, and I recently got into Van Darkholme after I saw his photo book on shibari…?"
Suddenly, it's awfully quiet. (W—why has everyone fallen silent?) Edgeworth has decided that the cabernet depths of his wine contain the answers to life's mysteries. Larry, on the other hand, is looking at me like Christmas has come early, and (I've got a bad feeling about this…)
"Whoa, Nick… Shibari, huh? Honestly, never would've expected that of you…"
(Sh— Did I really just—?!) "Hold it! It was a photo book!" (I—is my voice squeaking?!) "The shots were really artistic!"
"Uh-huh…"
Edgeworth is just refilling his glass again.
(Damn it, Phoenix, you're supposed to be fishing for bullets, not giving more away!) "A—anyway! Anything you recommend?"
"Yeah, man. What do you like, Edgey? Now that we know Nick here likes shibari…" Larry waggles his eyebrows, and I know I'll never live this down.
"I will tell you nothing of the sort, Larry Butz," Edgeworth says flatly, face red and gripping his elbow with the hand not holding the glass.
"Aww, c'mon, man. Don't be like that!"
(To tell you the truth, I wouldn't either… not on purpose anyway!)
"Here, I'll start." He pops the cap on a fresh beer. "You know, recently, I caught one of Heidi's fashion shows on TV, right? And she was wearing this fitting leather piece with lace-up stilettos, and now I can't get it out of my mind," he sighs dreamily. "I can't wait till she gets back, to have her put on some leather and… I don't know… spank me? Or whip me!"
Edgeworth nearly drops his wine glass.
"Yeah! Just the thought of some hot European girl —kinda like Annika, yeah?— in a fitting dress and leather cracking a whip… man, that's all kinds of sexy!"
"Oookay, Larry, I think we're calling it a night." I stand quickly, pulling him up with me. "Edgeworth," who looks like he wants nothing more than to curl up into a ball on the floor but will settle for washing the traumatising mental image of Franziska with Larry out of his mind with the rest of his wine, "and I have to work tomorrow, and I only have one couch."
"Whaaaat?!" Larry turns teary eyes on me. "Why's it gotta be me, man? You know I'd even take the floor, Nick."
"Well, for one, he drove and you didn't. And you're sober enough to walk or call a cab, but I doubt he can even stand straight right now," I point out, leading Larry to the door. "And if you're here, we won't be getting any sleep. So yeah, sorry, man." I try to look apologetic as I shrug. "Till next time?"
"Yeah!" He brightens, clinking his beer against mine before draining it and handing me the empty bottle. "You still gotta meet Heidi!"
He winks and takes off, and I sigh with relief as I lock the door behind him before moving around Edgeworth to gather all the empty bottles and set them aside. He's slumped in the armchair, pale face flushed with alcohol, and I don't think he's ever drunk an entire bottle of red wine quite so quickly.
I should move him to either the couch or my bed before he wakes up with cricks and aches everywhere on top of the hangover.
I tap his arm. "Hey, Edgeworth."
He stirs, looking up with bleary, glazed grey eyes. "Wright…?"
"The one and only. Come on." I slip my arms around his chest to pull him to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."
He doesn't resist. "Is it… good?"
"Hm?"
He sways, leaning heavily on me. "P—pornography…"
"Wh—what?" I turn to find his face barely an inch from mine.
More slowly, like he thinks I'm very dim, "Is pornography good?" he asks as I help him to the bedroom.
(Good…? Uh…) "S—some of it, I guess. There's good stuff and bad stuff, and— Wait." I seat him on the bed. It's a bit of a mess in here, and he'd make some biting comment if he were sober, I'm sure, but that's all beside the point right now. "You mean, you've never—?"
He shakes his head slowly as I help him lie down.
"Oh." (So that's why he's been so uncomfortable all night! It wasn't just telling Larry!)
"I've never— with anyone," he mumbles. "Not even myself."
"Not even y—?!" At the tip of my tongue is some snark about that being why he's so high-strung, but I bite it. This… looks like a vulnerable moment, and I shouldn't ruin it.
He cracks a wry smile. "I grew up… in the von Karma household." Gripping his elbow, he turns away. "The… accidents… were humiliating enough."
(Accidents? O—oh!) "Well, uh… D—do you want to try?"
Slowly, he turns his head to look at me again. "Try?"
"Yeah! There are some websites with some good shorts we could watch."
I'm scratching the back of my head again, so I quickly grab my laptop to stop. It's a bit of a tight squeeze for two on a single bed, but I do manage to get comfortable beside him and pull up a website I'm familiar with. I pick a short I've seen before that I thought was pretty good and set it to full screen before turning it to face him.
"Here, try this one." Nothing too adventurous, just two handsome men at it — it's his very first porno, after all.
Edgeworth glances at it, then at me and bites his lip. "Here? Now?"
"Would you do it on your own?" I ask pointedly. (Even with someone else, you wouldn't do it sober either, would you?)
He looks away. "Wh— It's not important."
"Well, no, but it feels good, and… and I think it's really important that you don't think it's some wrong or terrible thing!" I blurt hurriedly.
"I don't—"
I raise an eyebrow, and he stops. "Just relax. Look, if it's less awkward, we'll do it together."
Wide grey eyes fly to my face. "T—together?!" I'm not sure the flush is all alcohol anymore.
"Yeah, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. Just watch." I hit play and check to see if he's paying attention — good.
The episode starts up, and the stars meet. They flirt a bit, then they're in one person's apartment making out, and—
"That— That doesn't even make any sense!"
(Good ol' Edgeworth. Even this drunk, he insists on his logic.) "You don't watch this for the plot, Edgeworth."
"B— Look, it doesn't work that way in Paris."
"Oh, you've tried?"
He opens his mouth to reply, realizes at my grin that he's fallen into my trap and swiftly closes it again, keeping his eyes on the screen. Beside me, as the scene heats up, I hear Edgeworth's breathing quicken, and it's not like I've never suspected, but seeing this… I find myself staring at his quivering lips, those slender fingers curling in my blue sheets, the light sheen of sweat on his pale skin, the red blaze that creeps beneath the collar of his magenta dress shirt, and my mouth runs dry.
Edgeworth is… really attractive — sharp features, fit physique hugged by his bespoke clothes a—
(Wait. This is Edgeworth we're talking about here. Arrogant, condescending, tactless, righteous, determined, brilliant, loyal… No, no, no, I've known this guy since fourth grade!)
Yes, my hero in the class trial blushing as he quoted Signal Samurai lines and crying at his failure to fold a cr—
(Oh my God, I thought he was cute even back then, didn't I? …I'm screwed. Words cannot describe how screwed I am… Who are you kidding, Phoenix? You turned your entire life around for this guy, and it took you this long to notice?!)
Next to me, Edgeworth squirms, and (Focus, Phoenix, focus.) "Uh… Aren't you going to… you know…?" I incline my head meaningfully, and he'll turn purple if he blushed any harder. "Uh… D—do you want me to look away? Or leave or help you or—?"
Grey eyes are staring at me like I've grown a second head, and I take a second to realize what I just said and start sweating bullets. (Me and my big mouth…)
Suddenly, he smirks. "And how do you propose to help me, Wright?" he— he purrs as he shuts my laptop and sets it safely out of the way on the floor. "Hm?"
(I— I'll… think of something just as soon as I've picked my jaw up off the floor!)
But then that flirty confidence falters, and I've caught his hand before he can turn away. I— I can't lose him a third time. I can't. And… And we should probably talk, or… or… decide when we're less intoxicated, but… right now, all that matters is the nervous anticipation in his eyes and the pink of his tongue darting out to wet his parched lips as I lace our fingers and guide his hand down his already undone pants.
He gasps, eyes fluttering, as soon as our hands wrap around his erection, and my breath hitches — so hot, so big, and I never knew I needed… All my fantasies, like puzzle pieces fitting together into a whole, and I've been an idiot all this time.
Stroking gently as I tug him out of his expensive boxer briefs, I whisper, "Try different things. Find what feels good," and let him guide my hand as I work on the buttons of his shirt.
He seems to find something he likes quickly —a bit of squeeze below the head and a rough flick of thumb over the tip with a light tug— and he's moaning, eyes closed, movements speeding up, and so, so beautiful.
I can't help covering his lips with my own, slipping in when they part to taste the slide of his tongue along mine, and then—
He cries out, hot seed spilling over my hand, and (That's the hottest thing I've ever seen.)
Edg— Miles smiles, soft —bashful even— when he catches his breath — did I say that out loud? But then he's reeling me back in for another kiss, his hand slipping under the waistband of my track pants, and suddenly, I can't get our clothes off fast enough. I'm naked atop him before I know it, thrusting into his hand as I break off to trail kisses down his neck, and he arches into me, letting out soft sounds of pleasure as I mouth at a spot near the top of his collarbone.
"Ngh… P—please… no marks…" He smells like fine cologne and clean musk — I don't know what I expected.
He doesn't know what I like, and his fingers are clumsy with the angle and inexperience, but he tries, and that's all I need — we can work on that later.
"I'll try… if you tell me something." I nip at the shell of his ear. "Those… accidents…" My hand finds him hard again, and he whimpers when I roll his sacs in my palm. "What did you dream about?"
Cracking a wry smile, he replies breathlessly, "You," and I groan, close. "Wright, you were… the only one I'd ever grown close enough to to think about in that way."
"Ah…!" I press my forehead to his, lock his gaze with mine as I repeat the motions he taught me earlier. "What did I do?"
Grey eyes blown but twinkling, he murmurs, "You touched me… like you're doing now. Haahh… kissed me, like you did earlier, and I always— Wr— ah!! Ph—Phoenix… Phoenix!"
Orgasm punches out of me like the sight in my eyes, and I'm still all tingly when I blink away the white. We're a mess. Before Miles decides he's sober enough to be his fastidious self, I lean down to lick a bit of white off a pert nipple — a bit salty, a little bitter, mildly gamey… a hint of tea? He writhes as I swirl my tongue around it, and flicking the other lightly with my finger nets me a whimper. I don't know what I imagined Miles looked like under all those ruffles, but I'm definitely liking these well-defined muscles, the rosy expanse of creamy skin, the fine dusting of grey hair I follow down to—
"Ah!"
Miles shivers, oversensitive perhaps, but his body responds all the same as I press butterfly kisses to his length and rub circles up his toned inner thighs.
(Damn, I should take the stairs more often.)
I glance up to find him looking at me with half-lidded eyes filled with wonder — like he can't believe this is happening.
(Yeah, I get it. I'm having a bit of trouble here myself.)
I suck on his tip a little, and his eyes roll back, his toes curl as he tilts his head back and fists his hands in the sheets with a gasp, and that's it — my career is over. I'll never be able to look at him in court without thinking about this. But maybe… I won't have to just think about this.
When I press behind his sacs, he cries out in surprised pleasure, then he's tugging at my shoulders, so I obligingly shift up, straddling his hips. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me close to kiss me again, more deeply this time, more fully, and I want to be doing this for the rest of my life.
When we part for air, it's the most unguarded I've ever seen him, and suddenly, I can't look away.
(I'm… I'm getting lightheaded…) I probably forgot all about that air.
The moment stretches on… until Miles finally opens his mouth to say—
"I love you."
"We should talk."
Miles is gaping, and (stupid, Phoenix, stupid). He recovers and continues, "In the morning, was what I was going to say, but…" A soft smile breaks on his proud face. "I admit I was hoping you'd say that."
I let out the breath I was holding in a slight chuckle. "For a moment there, I was afraid you'd say you were booking a flight to Europe tomorrow."
He looks affronted. "Is that what you— Don't answer that."
I laugh, full and happy, and kiss him again. When we part this time, he whispers, "I—in that case, perhaps we should work on what you like now," cheeks ablaze and voice shy.
"In that case?" I echo, teasing. "You know that's only proper bed etiquette —bediquette, haha— all the time, right?"
"Well, yes, verily, I say… You— You know what I mean!"
(But you're so cute when you're flustered! Even since you were nine…) Still laughing, I roll us onto our sides. "Well, I was hoping you'd say we'd have years and years to work on that now, but… I do like that you're driven to succeed."
I know he's capturing my lips to shut me up, but when he whispers, "We will," between kisses, I find I don't mind at all.