#the thing about me is i love pairings that r like. outwardly normal man with something Deeply wrong with him

[subsequentibis]

can i say something. i think the alton towers phalanx guy fucked that roller coaster

#ignore me #the thing about me is i love pairings that r like. outwardly normal man with something Deeply wrong with him #x creature or otherwise incomprehensible being who is also a girl #and the guy may be having delusions that they are in love and she's actually going to eat his head #or she might genuinely like him or otherwise think he's a funny trinket toy and wants to keep him for laughs #i think this is normal and healthy even #and since my bf is really into roller coasters and alton towers specifically this is my New Thing #phalanx spokesperson x nemesis tbh. #(she did just totally kill him in the latest video they did but uhhh. thats not necessarily a deterrent)

[wrightaboutthat]

Collegial Support ~A Narumitsu One-Shot~

Summary: “I could not stop thinking about you this morning. And it’s landed me in quite the...predicament.” A desperate cry for help brings Phoenix Wright into the Chief Prosecutor's office. The reasoning, however, is beyond anything he could have imagined.

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Office Sex, Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Frottage, Desperation, Riding, all these tags but they're still so incredibly in love your honor, basically just them trying to one up adoration the entire time, Vaguely Set After AA4, no beta we die like miles' self control, Oh and I forgot the Lawyer Cult tags-neck kiss o'clock, Horny Lawyers, Miles Edgeworth is sent to the moon

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! I'm so anxiously excited for this one. I'm still trying to find my footing with this pairing, but couldn't help but dive headfirst into some good ol' office loving. Soundproofing in prosecutorial spaces is a blessing, actually. I'm so obsessed with how much these two adore each other, and subsequently so obsessed with bringing that element to light!

Super happy to finally share this with you all, and shoutout to the Lawyer Cult/the *cough hack* Hivemind for offering encouragement along the way! The excitement and support offered necessary boosts to keep going, so I appreciate you all <3. Hope you enjoy!

You can also read the work on AO3 here [x]

Phoenix was nothing but casual whistles as he strolled through rival territory. Nothing was out of the ordinary; it had been a regular day, a regular workload, and regular chain of beckoning messages on his phone.

“Wright?”

“Hey baby. What’s up?”

“Are you busy currently?”

“Not really, why?”

“Come to my office at your earliest convenience. I require your assistance.”

“Be over soon <3”

He had wrapped things up, left matters in capable hands, and headed over to the Prosecutor Building. It was not an unusual sight, as everyone in the space immediately recognized his intentions. Thus, unimpeded and contented, did he journey up to the office of utmost desire, mentally preparing for cases and kisses a plenty.

But walking into his partner’s office changed that. Where he expected to find Miles sitting at his desk, he instead found him standing on the opposite side. Where he expected to immediately catch those gorgeous silver eyes, he instead found a tense, burgundy backside. And where he expected to find the usual poised posture, he instead found a pose of what appeared to be frustration. For whatever reason, the normally composed man was leant over the mahogany, head hung and hands fisted.

Any manner of salutation died in his throat, instead being replaced with a concerned inquiry as he strolled forward.

“Miles? Is something wrong?”

He watched as Miles sighed harshly, but remained frozen in his spot.

“I would say so, yes,” he grumbled, his baritone deeper and thicker than usual.

“What is it?” Phoenix asked, coming up to his partner’s side and seating himself on the edge of the desk.

Again, Phoenix was expecting something work-related. Perhaps one of the other prosecutors was ill-performing. Or maybe a case was quickly getting too complicated. There wasn’t much that seemed to shake the sturdy foundation that was Miles Edgeworth after all; he was poised, stoic, and powerful. So he prepared himself for something of an intellectual explanation, quietly observing and waiting.

He watched as Miles slowly brought his head up, his bangs shifting and continuing to border his face. He heaved another heavy sigh, and still continued to avoid eye contact. Phoenix felt his wavy brows furrow tighter, but he held his tongue. Eventually, Miles did end up breaking the silence, albeit in gritted, deep tones.

“It would appear that certain...matters...are spiraling out of control.”

“Such as?”

Another sigh, another grumble, and another pause. Miles’ head seemed to dip back down then, grey hairs effectively hiding his visage away.

“It’s abhorrent.”

“Okay?” Phoenix softly pressed, “What’s going on?”

There was another pregnant pause then, the air growing noticeably thicker. Despite the uptick in tension, the oddity of it all, Phoenix didn’t take his eyes off his partner, patiently waiting for an answer. He noted that Miles almost seemed to be trembling, something that earned a tautness in his throat. Still, the possible explanations swirling through his head didn’t even come close to what was eventually uttered.

“...Infernal physiological processes, ones that have never hindered me in the past.”

What?

Mismatched eyes blinked numerous times, attempting to make sense of the unexpected shift. What did that even mean? Sleep troubles? Anxieties? A bad craving for burgers from being around the kids for too long?

“I don’t understand,” Phoenix said.

Miles seemed to snarl, his hands tightening against the deep mahogany. Though Phoenix couldn’t see his face, he could easily picture the deep sneer his lips had likely hiked into.

“Must you make me say it, Wright?” he hissed.

“Yeaaaah?” Phoenix drawled, nervously resting his hand upon his neck, “Because I’m not following.”

The harshest sigh of them all sounded in response, before Miles’ head drooped even lower. He seemed to take a few beats of cleansing breaths, before miraculously pivoting to catch Phoenix’s stare. Heterochromatic eyes took note of numerous elements then: the sharpness to the opposing glare, the deep furrow to his brows, the very pronounced swath of crimson beneath ivory skin, and the sporadic beads of sweat against his hairline. He certainly looked shaken, and once more did Phoenix’s brain clamber for a reason. Again, was he proven deeply wrong in a matter of seconds, the true answer utterly whiting out his entire system.

“I could not stop thinking about you this morning. And it’s landed me in quite the...predicament.”

A pin could be audible in the space if one were to fall, the office growing incredibly silent. Likely because Phoenix wasn’t even breathing; words and inhalations had utterly jammed in his throat. Outwardly, he was frozen in time, locked in the utmost surprise. Inwardly however, his subconscious was clambering and screaming. It ran through the words over and over again, attempting to process, attempting to taste. Because, there was absolutely no way that was the true reason. Despite dating Miles for a while, despite being intimate, there was no way such troubles spilled off his tongue.

So, when Phoenix finally got air moving through his lungs again, he quickly spoke his incredulousness.

“You’re kidding.”

An even deeper shade of crimson gripped Miles’ cheeks, and he ran to hide behind curtains of grey hair once more.

“No.”

“R-really, you must be joking,” Phoenix said, his hand gripping his neck a bit tighter.

“Does it look like I am?” Miles snapped.

No. It didn’t. The tension, the embarrassment, the desperation...It absolutely all checked out. And the more Phoenix processed it, the more he burrowed into the delightfully chaotic situation, the more he fell under a similar spell. The corners of lips began to twitch upwards, and his heart began to pound harder and faster within his chest. He stepped back through the situation, all the way back to the initial text messages. And when the disguising blanket draped upon “I need your assistance” was yanked off to reveal “I need you...”

“Wow, I...Wow,” he breathed, beginning to grin and chuckle all the same. When Miles simply groaned and remained silent, he couldn’t help but state the obvious, cementing them both into the humorous yet delicious reality.

“Esteemed Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth rushed me to his office because he was horny?”

Said esteemed prosecutor recoiled like he been slapped, before scrunching himself down even further.

“Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled.

But where one was falling, the other was rising; Phoenix found himself beaming more and more, amusement and interest quickly surging within.

“Ahh right, always one for eloquence,” he snickered, moving his hand upwards to run through ebony strands, “How about...Miles Edgeworth couldn’t get his rampant, raging desire under control?”

“Wright.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle more. The cheerful noise pried silver eyes back in his direction, but not in a preferred manner; Miles was glaring something terrible.

“And quit laughing,” he hissed.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” Phoenix said, controlling his mirth but still grinning all the while, “I’m just...blown away- maybe even flattered?”

When Miles answered with nothing but an embarrassed exhalation, Phoenix couldn’t help but look on with a more sheepish expression himself.

“You’re...that attracted to me?”

“Unfortunately...” Miles sighed.

Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle once again, feeling heat spread out across numerous places in his body. He saw fit to punch through the barriers Miles was hidden behind then, reaching out with a hand to softly frame his sharp jaw.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m insanely attracted to you too,” he murmured, giving a few strokes of his thumb, “Always have been. And you’re lucky I am because you’re an ass, and you scared me.”

“Understandable. It was...a shameful move.”

It was then that Phoenix began to grow frustrated with the frozen state of his partner. That, and he felt inclined to test the waters of attraction, to delight in the desperation Miles was trapped in. He had called him over in search of distressed release after all, so it was high time Phoenix unlocked the apprehension and allowed them both to enjoy.

His grin turned a bit slyer then, and he hopped off his mahogany perch, venturing to stand behind his Miles’ backside. Phoenix watched as burgundy stiffened even more, but before any objections could be raised, he was snaking his hands around the bent-over form. Grasping his torso, he pulled Miles upright, pulled him flush. He even went so far as to jut his hands downward, tugging that glorious behind into his already-swelling groin.

The resulting shaky gasp furthered his smile, and he was half-tempted to grind something terrible. But he held onto his composure, held onto his resolve, instead relying on words to chip away at any semblance of control. They were their art form after all, their weapon; surely they’d be just as effective at beckoning Miles into the bliss he craved.

“Yet you called me here anyway,” Phoenix whispered, easing his mouth close to Miles’ ear, “Were you just that desperate, Miles? Longing and aching?”

The effect was immediate; the room electrified and Miles stiffened immensely against him before beginning to quiver.

“W-Wright...”

The reaction caused mismatched eyes to flash, a darker sheen blanketing over the amusement. The longing and aching were quite mutual after all, Phoenix quickly venturing to the same plane. Brazenly, he flicked his tongue up the helix of Miles’ ear, before traversing into even dirtier territory.

“Yeah? Or was it because you knew I can’t exactly pass up on such an opportunity?” He barely gave Miles an opportunity to shudder or whine before he added with beam, “Almost makes me want to subvert expectations. Maybe I need to make myself less available.”

He was pleased to see Miles jerk his head, glaring at him over his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare...” he hissed, though his vocals were less solid than before.

“Maybe not,” Phoenix said, moving back to bite and kiss at the offered ear, “Think I’d rather pleasure you until you can’t think straight.”

Miles was definitely unraveling; his backside pressed harder against Phoenix’s tenting crotch. It was a beautiful thing, an unexpected delight. He never pictured that he’d have a Chief Prosector falling apart in his hands, rasping and begging and wanting. He felt inclined to play just a bit more, to savor the moment.

“Wright...”

“Ahh right, eloquence,” Phoenix chuckled, moving his kisses to any part of that gorgeous neck that wasn’t hidden by Miles’ cravat, “Think I’d rather dampen the- what’d you call it? Infernal psychological processes?”

“Physiological processes, darling,” Miles rasped, “Regardless, eloquence doesn’t really carry...the same effect...”

“Yeah?”

Phoenix could barely contain his smile, his excitement, licking a tantalizing trail against sweet ivory skin.

“So naughty, Miles. Yanking me here just to mess around, just to have dirty things whispered in your ear...”

“I’m...I’m certainly not proud of such crassness...”

“No? Well, that’s a shame, because-“

Phoenix finally gave a grind of his hips, drawing sharp gasps from the both of them.

“-it’s driving me absolutely wild too.”

“Phoenix...”

Phoenix managed to contain himself a bit then. He managed to keep a hold on his own hungering pelvis. Instead, he opted to hammer in the last bits of reassurance, whispered between heated kisses to neck and jaw.

“Really, Miles. Don’t worry. Just enjoy yourself, love. I’ve got you. I’m glad you rang, because I want to make you feel so, so good. I always do.”

Miles tensed, as if poised to argue further. But then with a groaning sigh, a heaving breath, he beautifully relented, his head lulling backwards against Phoenix’s shoulder.

“I love you. How is it that you put up with my nonsense?”

Phoenix grinned, a mix of triumph and bashfulness. He thirsted over newly exposed skin for a few beats, before returning such sentiments.

“I love you too. And hey, I can’t exactly complain about getting to bang the Chief Prosecutor. Kinda the opposite- I want to boast it.”

To his furthered relief and amusement, Miles lightly snorted.

“Tsk...”

But despite the lightheartedness, despite the mirth, Phoenix knew there was a duty to be fulfilled. So he plunged back into lecherousness, whispering against Miles’ ear once more.

“So I can’t wait to make you scream, and let everyone know.”

He snickered as the rested head jerked back up, Miles looking over his shoulder with wide eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he gasped, “Were you always this lewd?”

“Mm, maybe; it kinda can’t be helped around you. But hey, you like it.”

Before any objection could be raised, before they fell victim to further arguing, Phoenix hushed it all with just a few calculated movements: he spun Miles around, removed his glasses, and swallowed any poised words with his own mouth. He coaxed the arguments into honeyed nothingness, eased the apprehension into eagerness, and melted the tension into heat. His tongue jabbed, and his hands wandered, wrestling out every sweet little noise he possibly could. But upon plunging downward, upon feeling the extremely taut bulge that was Miles’ front, Phoenix couldn’t help but break away and stare.

“Wow, holy shit- you really like it.”

Once again, he didn’t allow time for a response; he reached to trace the delicious outline with a hand, before giving the entire area a sharp squeeze. Miles of course, immediately acted accordingly. Being so pent up, so deprived, so hungry, his entire body practically rolled from the sensation, coupled with a strangled noise of approval.

“N-nngh...”

And that was the utmost green light. That was all Phoenix needed to leap into action. His eyes flashed with a darker sheen, a hotter spark, and he slipped his hands around Miles’ hips.

“Alright. Enough making you wait- let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hmm?”

“You’re far too good to me...” Miles panted.

“Because I adore you,” Phoenix said simply, before tugging him close, “Now c’mere...”

They locked into a passionate kiss then, one that quickly grew heated, desperate. Mouths wandered like they were each other’s quenching thirst in the desert, the first meal after starvation. Groans, whimpers, and shaky breaths sounded in a libidinous melody, cutting through the silence of thickened office air. And although Phoenix’s mind quickly began to grow woozy with lust, he still acted with his beloved in mind. Not breaking their connection, he softly ushered Miles back around his large wooden desk, guiding him back to his leather chair. And when the constrained hips began to grind, began to search for that fiery friction, Phoenix proceeded further.

He broke their kiss for the purpose of latching his mouth to area just beneath Miles’ jaw, sucking and staking his claim. As he did so, his hands wandered downward once more, fishing for the belt and fly that constricted his love so.

“Wr-Wright...” Miles whimpered, the cracking tonality pure music to Phoenix’s ears. Still, with a heated kiss followed by bite, did he voice his motives.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to get beneath this,” he breathily chuckled, briefly tugging on the damn cravat with his teeth, “But that’s not exactly the most pressing matter, now is it?”

His fingers were deft then, working at the devilish constraints and unzipping the burgundy slacks. Another teasing squeeze was offered to the ever-growing bulge, but when the touch earned a yelp, Phoenix denied no longer. He plunged a hand into soft fabric, grasped his lecherous prize, and finally pulled it free. He removed himself from Miles’ neck just in time to witness him groan with relief, his head lulling and his chest heaving. But unsurprisingly, were heterochromatic eyes drawn downward, marveling in the sight that awaited.

“God...You’re so stunning, Miles.”

And he was; he was utterly engorged and ready. The utmost desire was palpable, what with the tip weeping something terrible. Various twitches and jerks also complimented the display, Miles’ body practically screaming at Phoenix to proceed.

Proceed he did; he nudged Miles backwards and downwards, guiding him to sit. He wasted no time in kneeling betwixt shivering legs, spreading them further and allowing for more space. A second of admiration had to be given, before he finally nestled close, ghosting his breath across Miles’ center. Such an action earned a needy whimper, Miles reaching with a shaky hand towards Phoenix’s head.

“M-May I?” he rasped, just barely touching ebony strands.

“Do whatever you need,” Phoenix said, licking his lips and readying himself. Normally, he would be inclined to tease and taste. Normally, he would give kisses and licks before he consumed. Normally, he would take the time to marvel in Miles’ beauty. But with how heated the situation was, with how noticeable the tremors were, he skipped right over the normal proceedings. All he offered was a kiss to the dripping head, before steadying the shaft with a hand.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

“T-thank you...”

The gasped words of appreciation died with the following actions. Phoenix guided Miles fully into his mouth, taking as much as he could possibly manage. As he slid downwards, eyes trained upwards, attempting to watch the reaction such relief earned. It was well worth it; Miles practically rolled like a wave, his head craning back, his free hand gripping one of the rests, and his mouth falling agape.

“O-oh fuck...Phoenix, thank you...”

The expletive rolling off such an esteemed tongue made brown and blue flash, kindling a new spark of determination within. Phoenix eased back, slipped a limp leg over his shoulder, and took Miles deeply again. He hollowed out his cheeks then, watching as the suction took its effect.

“A-ah!” Miles gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth and biting upon his fingers. He likely wouldn’t last long. Beginning actions were almost drawing forth cries already. So Phoenix slipped back once more, before finally starting his rhythmic bobs.

The office turned into a medley of strained pleasure then. Slurps, hums, and moans sounded from Phoenix, complimented by expletives, whimpers, and hissed praises from Miles. The hand against Phoenix’s head didn’t demand more- rather, it tugged against black hairs, communicating the mounting ecstasy. Still, even without guidance, did Phoenix go deeper still, proceeding until he lightly gagged. But despite the discomfort, despite the tears welling in his eyes, he was undeterred.

For he was driving Miles insane and he knew it. The divine baritone he was so accustomed to had rocketed upwards in pitch. The legs that were normally so sturdy and strong had become something of gelatin. The control which Miles normally wielded so well had all but dissipated, sharp noises and hissed vocals increasing in volume and frequency.

“Oh, Phoenix...F-fuck...L-love you...Just like that...”

It was fuel for Phoenix, stoking the inner flames. He grasped his perch a bit tighter, and sped up his movements, groaning and slurping all the while. Fluid was dribbling down his chin, and the occasional tear dripped down his cheeks, but still, he continued. It didn’t matter that his own slacks were painfully tenting. It didn’t matter that his knees ached. It didn’t matter that his jaw was starting to tire. It was all for Miles. And he intended to absolutely see it through to the end.

An end which did indeed seem fast approaching; the hand which had gripped Phoenix’s hair shakily traveled downward, feebly grasping at the working jaw.

“P-please...I’m- Phoenix, I’m a-about to...”

It was a crackling warning that went unheeded. It was a vague instruction that went ignored. Instead of backing away, Phoenix slid deep once again, switching between sucks and swirls of his tongue. He even went so far as to reach with a hand, moving to fondle whatever he could. And that was it. The stimulation reached its utmost peak. Miles’ pelvis tensed immensely, before giving a mighty quake.

“G-God I’m- ah!”

The sharp cry matched the intensity of the first spurt within Phoenix’s mouth. The force made him startle slightly, but he quickly relaxed, eagerly drinking in the release. He hummed a single note as he captured the bursts, taking everything completely in. But to the beautiful torture of Miles, he did not cease with his suction; between swallows, he continued to work his lecherous efforts, efforts which quickly took effect.

“Ah- Ph-Phoen- Ah!”

He pushed through the growing sensitivity, pushed through the crests, fully intent on overwhelming Miles with the deserved pleasure. Cries ventured more towards yells, shivers more towards jerks, those handsome vocals choking off in the utmost ecstasy.

“Phoenix!”

Mismatched eyes ventured to take in the scene. Miles was arched against the chair, gripping the leather like he was holding on for dear life. Moisture dripped down his ivory skin, likely a mixture of tears and perspiration. And when he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth and released a muffled noise that surely would have been a scream, most would normally cease their efforts. But Phoenix remained. Phoenix continued. He stayed until the pulses slowed, the bursts stopped, and the cries blubbered. Only then, did he release Miles from his mouth with a smack, sitting back on his legs to admire his work.

It was like Miles had been reduced to a burgundy puddle, utterly limp against the chair. He quivered and heaved, his pants shaking as he fought for breath. An occasional whimper slipped through his lips, an aftershock or two likely traversing through his system. But he appeared satisfied, appeared entirely sated.

Phoenix ran his tongue across soiled lips, before wiping at his mouth further with the back of his hand. He massaged his jaw for a beat or two, before smirking at the handsome mess before him. Though his knees groaned, he slowly stood up and straddled Miles’ lap. And, being mindful of his positioning, he eased himself to sit, before nuzzling close.

He couldn’t help himself then; he felt inclined to finally rid Miles of the dreaded fabric barrier. He softly tugged at the various loops, and struggled a bit, as per usual. But soon enough, did he finally unwind the cravat, tugging it free and revealing his favorite expanse of skin. Phoenix sighed a bit at the sight, before grinning and easing close. Seeing as Miles was still recovering, he didn’t leap for fervent, desperate kisses; instead, he opted for gentle, for reverent, easing his mouth over dewy skin.

To his delight, Miles softly moaned, his quivering hands easing around Phoenix’s back to hold him close. The soft kisses continued, coupled with a few sucks here and there. Phoenix carried on, even with his crotch atrociously swollen, and with rasped words from his beloved breaking the silence.

“Oh, darling...My dear love...”

Phoenix’s beam grew at the endearment, a delightful blush easing across his cheeks. Through his smile, through his affections, he of course returned the praise.

“Hmm...You did so well, sweetheart...”

Miles’ hands gripped Phoenix’s back a bit tighter, holding him close in a messy embrace.

“I love you...” he said through his slowing breaths, “You’re astounding...”

“I love you too,” Phoenix replied, offering one more kiss before leaning back. He watched as Miles craned his head back against the chair, continuing to wheeze and come down from his high. While the sight was satisfying to see, it caused a rather devious smirk to form.

“But don’t get too tired on me now.”

Wrinkled burgundy tensed beneath him, almost as if Miles was holding his breath. His grin intensifying, Phoenix leaned close once more, offering another kiss to that desirable neck before adding, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Miles’ head was quick to snap back up, stunned eyes locking with smug.

“P-pardon?!”

“I said I wanted to make you feel good, remember?”

“Y-yes but...Phoenix, you already have. You’ve done everything and more.”

“And you were the one who gave the horny summons in the first place.”

“I-inconsequential!” Miles hissed with a furious blush to match, a sight that tugged a laugh from Phoenix. “If anything, it’s high time I return the favor. Your slacks are absolutely bursting at the seams.”

“Heh; the Chief Prosecutor has a perverted eye.”

“Phoenix.”

The biting tone hushed any further cheeky comments. When Phoenix quieted, Miles softened, sighing and reaching with a hand.

“Let me see you,” he said, cupping Phoenix’s face, “And give you what you desire.”

“You will. And I desire more of you.” Phoenix shied away from the touch, leaning close to Miles’ ear once again. He offered the sensitive area a kiss, before smirking and purring more libidinous motives. “I want to be inside you...”

To his delight, he could feel the shakiness that quaked at such a phrase. It seemed like Miles had stuttered on his breath, the intense words likely plunging betwixt his legs. Strangely though, such whispers didn’t beckon like they had earlier; Miles appeared to fight for composure rather than submit.

“You’re far too pent up. You’re seconds away from finishing in your suit.”

Phoenix smirked, leaning back and shaking his head.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Wright.”

“I will. I just want- ah!”

The unexpected squeeze to Phoenix’s taut bulge sliced his words with a yelp. It was something of a lightning strike, his crotch electrifying from the touch it so desperately craved. Really, he could barely deny it anymore. He knew he was painfully wanting. Everything between his legs was straining, throbbing. And much to his chagrin, Miles was also aware.

“I know you’re suffering, dear.”

“Miles-“

Once more were arguments cut by further touches, further whimpers of need. It felt good, so incredibly good, Phoenix’s hips bucking towards the sensation on their own accord. But still, in the back of his mind, did stubbornness persist. For he wanted nothing more than to pleasure Miles, to focus on sending him absolutely skyward. It was why he had been called to the office in the first place; his own wants were insignificant in comparison.

But oh, how his body fought to overpower his mind. Oh, how it screamed for him to give in. Even still...

“Shh...” Miles soothed, poising his hand over the swell.

“I’m not...This isn’t how I wanted-“

“Perhaps I’m not done with you either.”

It was astounding how well Miles knew him. It was astounding how in tune Miles was with his thoughts. And it was astounding that Miles wanted...more. Naturally, such notions were indeed enough to shut Phoenix up, all points dying in the back of his throat. He fished for silver eyes with widened bicolored, beginning to shiver atop his burgundy perch. Miles gave him a knowing look then, raising a single brow before murmuring further.

“So in the mean time, hush, and let me help you.”

Reflexively, Phoenix opened his mouth to stubbornly resist, but no words rolled off his tongue. He was locked into the silver spell, insistent eyes ushering him away from arguing. Biting his lip, he gave a feeble nod, and that alone encouraged the progression. Miles hummed a sigh, and softly nudged Phoenix’s chest, gesturing for him to stand. He quickly did as he was told, what with the tightness beneath his slacks indeed growing uncomfortable. He watched as Miles momentarily tucked himself out of the way, before rising to join him. He was half-tempted to hold the back of his neck, unsure of where things were going to go. But when Miles spun him around and pulled their forms flush, it became abundantly clear.

He couldn’t help but whimper then, the mere implications of what was to come causing his hips to shift. The movements only intensified when Miles nestled closer, his chin hooking on Phoenix’s shoulder and his hands snaking around his begging form.

“Look at you...” he whispered, pivoting to press a kiss to the side of Phoenix’s jaw, “You thought you were going to last? Truly? You’re writhing, love...”

It really was something- how quickly he fell apart, how quickly he lost his foothold. But it couldn’t be helped; he had always been impervious to Miles’ intoxicating touch. It was a wonder he thought he’d last indeed. Still...

“I...I was going to try...F-for you...”

“So stubborn.”

Normally, there would be teasing and palming abound. Normally, Miles would be meticulous with his touches and strokes. But presently, he seemed to follow the exact route of desperation, skipping directly to the point. For he reached for blue slacks, hastily unzipped them, and tugged Phoenix free. He wasted no time at all, grasping the pulsing length with a hand and immediately creating shockwaves.

“Ohh fuck...” Phoenix gasped, his tone already hiking upwards.

Though his mind was instantly woozy, though his body was focused on sensations below, he could still feel the warmth from Miles’ smile. It glimmered upon his shoulder, coupled with a contented sigh as monochromatic eyes likely looked him over.

“Hmm...Exquisite as usual.”

He released his grasp, leaving Phoenix in a shivering limbo. But then came a sound that drew forth a whimper: Miles licking and moistening his hand. And moments after, it was a wonder Phoenix’s legs didn’t immediately give out. It was a wonder he didn’t yell into the heated silence of the office. Because yes, Miles knew him well; he knew exactly the right pressure, exactly the right stroke. He gave several tugging passes, before fixating on the head, thumbing the slit in circular motions.

White flashed before Phoenix’s eyes, a garbled mess of moans and gasps escaping him. His pelvis thrust towards the skillful hand, chasing after the intense pleasure. It was incredible, or pathetic- he couldn’t quite tell which. Because he was already feeling that clenching fire, that telling tension within his abdomen. Thus, did he heave and lean against Miles, straining to hold on.

“I can’t...I c-can’t...Miles, I...”

Miles huffed with amusement, squeezing the tip betwixt his fingers before shifting back towards strokes. Phoenix had to stifle a cry, clamping down on his noises as flames surged higher and higher.

“Fuck...Fuck! I’m...!”

“Let go, my darling...”

And just like that, he was done for. In just a few passes, he was finished. He stiffened immensely, before arching against Miles, crying out as he finally released the pent up tension. He roughy came in numerous bursts, likely soiling Miles’ hand and the floor before them. But said hand didn’t shy away, continuing to stroke to utter completion.

Phoenix moaned pitifully as he stepped down from immense heights, slumping back against the sturdier form behind him. He could feel the heat from Miles’ smile once more, lips ghosting against his neck as he hummed his triumph.

“There we are...” He eased a series of kisses to Phoenix’s skin before adding, “Utterly breathtaking...”

Phoenix turned his head to meet the advances, easing their mouths together despite his quickened breaths. He kissed Miles deeply, passionately, sighing as the last bits of elation departed his system.

But as he came up for breath, he became...acutely aware of just how fast things had gone. His gaze drifted downward to the mess on Miles’ hand, before shifting to the matching white streaks on the floor. Though Miles was masterful, it had hardly taken any effort. No, he wouldn’t have been able to last in a deeper connection at all.

The thought flooded his face with crimson, sheepishness overtaking his features. He shifted about on his feet, before awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Erm...”

Miles could easily sneer at him. There were boundless quips he could launch for such an occurrence. Banter seemed to be threateningly hanging above both of them. But instead, Phoenix only picked up on gentle huffs of mirth, the warmth of Miles’ expression still evident.

“Still going to bluff, my love?”

“Ah, no...” Phoenix pulled himself away then, mindful of the mess as he turned to face Miles. A hand crept up to hold his neck, along with more sheepishness to match. “You...You were right.”

He watched as Miles rolled his eyes and shook his head, though the gentleness remained.

“How ludicrous.”

It was then he surprised Phoenix, drawing his soiled hand to his mouth. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he licked and sucked at the incriminating evidence, cleaning without complaint. He hummed as he did so, whereas Phoenix couldn’t help but rasp an expletive at the sight.

“Now who’s lewd?” he managed with a strained snicker.

“Hmm...Is it such a crime to marvel in you?”

“I guess not, but...damn, Miles.”

Silver stare flashed as he swallowed the last drops down, the action topped off with a contented sigh. Miles walked towards his shelves then, retrieving a few tissues. He offered Phoenix a handful, before bending down to address the remaining mess- the streaks which had narrowly missed their shoes.

“I’m just pleased I was able to return such a release,” he murmured as he cleaned, “You didn’t need to be hurting on my behalf, dear. Especially when you went through the trouble of coming here.”

“For you. You shouldn’t have even had to worry about my-

“-Hush,” Miles interjected, “Who’s to say I didn’t enjoy it?”

Further banter built on Phoenix’s tongue, but ultimately didn’t manifest. Instead, he opted to tuck himself back in before bending down and offering an additional hand. As he cleaned though, he couldn’t help but wonder...was Miles truly satisfied then? Did his own release mark the end? Would he be satiated until they saw each other again in the evening? Was it enough? Phoenix had been the one to allude to further steps, to delving deeper into pleasure. But the current actions smelt of finality.

That was, until a previous quip entered Phoenix’s brain, something said in passing but dripping with significance. He decided to inquire.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Did...did you say you weren’t finished with me?”

Miles stilled, a swath of crimson rolling across his cheeks. He kept his head down, hiding behind grey curtains once more.

“I suppose I did, yes.”

“You actually want to go further?”

“Don’t you?” Miles murmured, standing up to throw the tissues away.

“Ah, yeah, of course I do. I always do,” Phoenix said, mirroring Miles’ actions. When he had disposed of things, he opted to stand with a hand grasping his neck. “But you’re not bothered? My beloved workaholic wouldn’t worry?”

“Well, there’s always something to be done,” Miles said, venturing back towards Phoenix to loosely snake his hands around the small of his back. “But all the same, I can’t exactly pass you up.”

“You don’t have meetings or anything though?”

“I can guarantee you I don’t.”

“But that’s- wait.” Phoenix shifted in Miles’ embrace, starting like he did in court when a realization struck. “Don’t tell me you carved out space in your itinerary.”

He watched as Miles opened his mouth, only to be silenced by a new wave of warm blush. As the words died, he avoided eye contact. That alone was an answer, an easy deduction, effectively drawing a breathy laugh from Phoenix.

“Oh my God, you did. Miles, you literally made a dick appointment.”

Such a statement drew the monochromatic gaze back, but in the form of a glare. The angry crimson did nothing to help the rivaling laughs, effectively leading to Miles breaking away.

“Phoenix Wright, your crude terminology has me inclined to cancel.”

“Sorry!” Phoenix snickered, reaching to lace his hands around Miles’ neck and restart their embrace, “I’m just...so blown away. I never thought you’d want something like this.”

Miles heaved a sigh, averting his eyes once again as the blush turned gentler.

“Yes, well...wanting you to such a degree changes a lot.”

It was Phoenix’s turn to blush then. He couldn’t help but grin through the warmth, easing close enough for their noses to brush.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, nuzzling until he drew forth a ghost of a smile.

“I love you too.”

It was only natural that the pair kissed, slower and more purposeful than their previous advances. Even with deeper intimacy on the horizon, even with lecherousness hanging over their heads, their lips only glided and caressed.

“What about you?” Miles softly asked when they broke apart, “Nothing going on at the agency?”

“Nah. I’m sure the kids will keep everything in working order.”

“Mm...”

Phoenix’s brows furrowed slightly when Miles looked away, scanning his sharp features for discomfort. He couldn’t quite decipher, so he reached up with a hand, framing Miles’ jaw and stroking with his thumb.

“Hey, we really don’t have to continue if you don’t want to though. Don’t pressure yourself. If there’s any doubt, we can wait until we’re home.”

“No, that’s...” Miles sighed, the color in his cheeks intensifying further. “...I do. This morning, I couldn’t stop envisioning...”

Even though he trailed off, the underlying meaning was apparent. Brown and blue eyes flashed, coupled with the room twinging with a new burst of heat.

“So all of this wasn’t enough, hmm?”

“It was extraordinary, but...”

Phoenix smirked, easing close again. The vice of desire tightened around them, beckoning his lips to that stunning neck once more. He hummed and kissed a trail, already feeling sparks venturing downward.

“...But you want me inside you too,” he whispered against sweet skin, sealing the statement with a nip.

The salacious words and actions prompted another shiver. Phoenix’s grin only intensified, coupled with the frequency of his bites.

“It’s incredibly crass, I know,” Miles eventually said, his voice strained as he shifted beneath the touches.

“It’s amazing is what it is. And perfect because...I want you too. God, I want you so bad.”

Phoenix latched his mouth onto sweet skin something proper then, biting and sucking. He was intent on making a mark, both literally and figuratively, driving his point completely in. Said motives were made worse by a moan gracing his ears, the noise hammering in his claim.

“Phoenix...”

The subsequent grin broke the heated connection. He leaned back to admire, humming at the reddish blotch that seemed to saturate in real time. But though they stood together in the flames, though he could still taste Miles upon his tongue, though their bodies had started to sing once more, he couldn’t help but inquire one last time.

“You’re sure?”

Heated eyes softened, Miles reaching to cup Phoenix’s face.

“I’m sure,” he murmured, before sighing and looking away, “Lest you depart and my thoughts...drift once again.”

“Maybe those infernal physiological processes aren’t so bad after all...” Phoenix snickered, his hands drifting to mirror the frame.

“Mm...”

The pair smiled, before easing to close the space between them. Lips initially brushed in a tender kiss, but quickly intensified to something far more molten. Starving mouths gaped, and thirsting hands wandered. As Phoenix plunged downward towards a particular prize however, as hands grasped burgundy curves, concentration was severed once more.

“Ahh, shit,” Phoenix hissed.

“What is it?”

“You don’t...happen to have any supplies, do you?”

“Bottom drawer...towards the back.”

The instruction sent Phoenix off without hesitation initially. He broke away towards the specified destination, bending down to fish for the desired bottle. Upon grasping it though, a lightbulb suddenly popped forth; he couldn’t help but smirk as he processed the location, the readiness.

“D-don’t you say a word, Wright. Just grab it.”

It was like Miles had peered into his cheeky thoughts. That, or he had spied the budding mischievousness on his face. Either way, it made Phoenix snicker once more, standing up and biting back wry comments.

“And wipe that grin off your face,” Miles huffed.

“Do it for me.”

Silver eyes narrowed, but Miles complied, surging forward to lock them in a hungry kiss. Hands from both parties began to wander, groping and attempting to make purchase. Miles’ fingers curled through ebony locks, whereas Phoenix’s hands framed his favorite jawline. The pair moaned through the rougher advances, heat surging and dancing betwixt them.

It certainly wasn’t a bad way to allow their bodies to catch back up.

The swirling warmth prompted Phoenix further. His hands drifted downwards, grasping Miles’ collar and giving a beckoning tug. Miles understood at once, breaking the kiss and panting against rival lips. Phoenix took advantage of the pause, moving to remove his own jacket. He was simply going to shrug it off, to opt for a quick discard, but a pair of hands interjected. He looked on with mild confusion as Miles guided the fabric off, dutifully holding instead of dropping. It was when he meticulously hung it off the back of his chair that things clicked for Phoenix.

“Priorities,” he laughed.

“You’ll thank me later when your jacket isn’t a crumpled mess,” Miles said, repeating the actions with his own, “We’re going to be conspicuous enough already.”

Phoenix snorted, but the amusement did little to slow him. The moment Miles pivoted back to face him, he pounced, locking them back in a kiss as fingers worked at golden buttons. The action drew forth a whimper, but Miles seemed undeterred as well. He too, reached through the passion for Phoenix’s waistcoat, unbuttoning whenever he could manage. The pair worked through the layers of fabric, brushing the coats aside and finally reaching the undershirts. Phoenix could almost curse at their fashion choices, acting as a barrier of sorts against their fire. Instead though, his mind grew giddily woozy, what with the prospect of more beautifully exposed skin on the horizon. He hurried then, desperately working at buttons to remove the last block.

When he finally got it open, when he finally parted the fabric for his ardent eyes, he couldn’t help but break away to stare. Hands reached to follow his gaze, caressing the awaiting chest. The pair shivered at the exchange, but Phoenix was inclined to go further. Wandering fingers drifted to Miles’ dusky nipple, encircling the area before pinching lightly. The resulting gasp drew forth a smirk and magnetized lips to skin.

Phoenix kissed a trail across taut pectorals, humming at the sparks buzzing betwixt their bodies. Just as before, the gorgeousness bewitched him, leading him to lick and bite a plenty. He encircled Miles’ nipple with his tongue, long enough for trembling fingers to thread his hair. If they decided to tug, he would appropriately respond, nipping until a whimper was earned.

Eventually though, his own body grew impatient, beckoning him to press forward. He leaned back to eye his work, grinning at the beauty and marks alike.

“God, I love you. You and your body both.”

“I love you too. Though, did I not say I wished to see you as well?”

“You did, but...I’m not quite finished.”

Motions from earlier were repeated, Phoenix reaching to undo belt and slacks alike. Unlike before though, it was with the intention to completely remove; fingers grasped all matters of fabric, tugging until everything was pulled downward. Burgundy and boxers pooled at Miles’ feet, and Phoenix stooped to follow. He took a moment to remove Miles’ dress shoes and socks, before the other constraints were guided off and away.

Upon easing back to his knees, Phoenix found himself at eye level with the most desirable part of all. It was engorging once more, and already beading with pre-cum. As a result, he couldn’t help himself; he reached to give a tugging stroke or two, before he eased to kiss the awaiting moisture away. Miles’ groan almost coaxed him to pleasure further, but he ceased- though not without licking up the entirety of the beautiful length.

He kissed his way back upwards, murmurs of praise coiling on his tongue. The moment he was standing though, said murmurs were immediately hushed, Miles’ demanding mouth finding his. The two fell victim to yet another heated kiss, moans reverberating through the space. Before Phoenix could caress further, Miles raced for his turn. He deftly unbuttoned Phoenix’s undershirt, and caressed bare skin the instant it was offered. Phoenix couldn’t help but release a whimper for Miles to swallow, the touch trailing sparks across his own chest.

He expected actions to parallel, to mirror. But it seemed desperation was at the forefront; he smiled as Miles jumped right to his blue slacks, hurrying to free him once more.

“So ready for me...” Phoenix purred into swollen lips.

“Have been since the moment you embedded yourself into my thoughts...”

Such words flared nostrils, stuttered breaths, and stoked new fires of determination. He sighed as Miles removed him from fabric constraints once more, but when Miles pulled back and hesitated- perhaps to admire, Phoenix jumped at the opportunity. Clothing didn’t need to come fully off after all. Entire exposure wasn’t necessary. They had everything they needed, with a few conspicuous shields to match.

So he grabbed ivory hips, pivoting Miles around and ignoring the sharp gasp. A beckoning nudge was given, gesturing for Miles to bend over the desk before them. To his utmost delight, Miles did so without delay or argument, reclining and beautifully displaying. Though a new desperation was indeed gnawing within, Phoenix couldn’t help but appreciate the sight.

“I’ll never be able to get over how gorgeous you are.”

“Hmm...” Miles hummed, propping himself up on his elbows, “Coming from the most magnificent man...”

“Says the one who’s insanely irresistible.”

“Objection- ah!”

Arguments were severed by touches; Phoenix’s fingers squeezed the offered cheeks, before easing to simply caress.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“You’re playing dirty, Wright,” Miles said, huffing and shifting against the contact.

“Well yeah, I would hope so. I’ll keep this method in mind for the next time you’re getting too sassy in court.”

“Yes, because they surely wouldn’t hold you in contempt whatsoever- ungh!”

Again were vocals stolen by a squeeze. Phoenix grinned, going so far as to offer a light whap before chuckling over the following gasp.

“Worth it.”

He kneaded the doughy flesh with his fingers, marveling at the sounds such an action earned. Every moan and whimper resonated directly between his legs, slowly coaxing his erection back to totality. He wasn’t quite sure how Miles wanted to proceed, how Miles wanted to be taken, but oh, how tempted he was to simply pound him then and there.

His beloved beginning to whine coaxed Phoenix towards the next steps. He reached for the bottle of neglected lube, popping it open and smirking at how Miles hummed at the sound. Generously, he coated his fingers, before transferring some to his still-swelling length. He stroked and readied with trembling sighs, before reaching for the desired entrance.

The second Phoenix brushed upon puckered skin, their breaths caught, tangling in the new tension gripping the room. Around he rubbed in tantalizing circles, ghosting upon the area in preparation. With how Miles squirmed, Phoenix expected to be implored, to be begged. Instead, he was stunned to watch as Miles reached back with a hand, prying and spreading himself open. It was a miracle Phoenix didn’t leap to sheath himself then and there.

He instead shakily inhaled, and poised a single finger to proceed. Consent had already been given. Approval had already been spoken. But even still, did Phoenix double check, holding steadily in place.

“Ready?”

He smirked when it seemed like Miles’ body did the talking, what with his pelvis titling a bit closer. Such an expression warmed all the more when shaky vocals joined the mix.

“Yes. Please.”

Through the muscular resistance he finally pushed then. Phoenix couldn’t help but hum at the tight warmth which awaited, the noise beautifully melding with the opposing moan. He eased in only to his knuckle at first, closely watching Miles for signs of discomfort. But when he only spied breathless pleasure, when he only spied a silent ask for more, did he insert his finger in completely. He allowed Miles a small respite, giving the muscles time to adapt and relax. The moment the tension eased, Phoenix began to move, slowly jutting in and out in a salacious pattern.

Mismatched eyes scanned meticulously, lecherously. He eagerly drank in every sigh, every quivering moan. If Miles seemed to react more to a certain area being stroked, Phoenix would fixate on the spot, jutting until hips quivered beneath his touch. He knew the workings of his partner after all. He knew what he liked, how he ticked. So when that gorgeously stoic body began to tremble, Phoenix went further, slipping a second finger into the mix.

“Phoenix...” Miles sighed, his tone coated with delicious enjoyment, “Yes...”

The praise fueled him, warming both his groin and his expression. He thrust the pair deeply, before taking a few beats to explore the muscular walls. He swirled about rhythmically, before scissoring for that perfect stretch. He couldn’t help but groan at the sensations, at the sounds, at the torridity of it all. He worked for every little bit of pleasure, every sweet vocalization from Miles.

It seemed successful thus far; Miles was writhing against his perch, moaning against the advances. The further Phoenix stretched, the more his reactions intensified. Deeper thrusts seemed to coax his hips backwards, like they subconsciously sought more stimulation.

So Phoenix delivered without hesitation. He slipped a third and final finger in, marveling at how Miles’ back arched in response.

“Fuck...” he gasped, sending a new rush of blood straight to Phoenix’s crotch, “So good...”

Every movement earned a breathy moan then. Every thrust was met with an equal advance. And every jolt of Miles’ pelvis seemed to coax Phoenix’s similarly. He needed more. They both needed more.

Phoenix reached deeply for that sweet inner spot, stroking until Miles began to whimper something terrible. But then, he abruptly pulled out, drawing a sharp gasp into the heated space. It was not without cause; he reached for the lube once more, intent on slicking and readying his erection.

“Ph-Phoenix...”

The mewl made him smirk through his preparation, smiling despite the grunts and sighs from touching himself.

“I won’t keep you waiting, baby. You’ve waited long enough.”

Biting his lip, he nestled himself into the constricted space, teasing his head against the awaiting entrance. The pair vocalized at the sensation, Phoenix groaning and Miles whining. But right before he proceeded, right before he could venture inward, Miles gasped with further conversation.

“Phoenix.”

Before he could even question the sharper tone, Miles released his grip on himself, effectively closing off proper access. In the pause he seemed to be taking to steady himself, to catch his breath, Phoenix couldn’t help but buzz with alarm.

“What is it?”

Miles inhaled deep lungfuls of air, before standing and pivoting to face Phoenix. Mismatched eyes were spellbound, immediately drawn downward to the enticing sight between pale legs. Despite their previous ventures, Phoenix was pleased to see that Miles was plenty hard once more- though, the relief was short lasted. Had he done something wrong?

“Sweeth-“

“-I love you,” Miles blurted, rushed and unexpected, “You’ve done everything and more, as you always do. It’s high time you simply sit back and enjoy.”

Before returned sentiments could even poise on his tongue, Phoenix found himself getting dragged across the room, stumbling as he was tugged by his hand. His aroused mind buzzed with confused static, unable to process the new turn of events. That was, until he spied where Miles was headed, where he was being lead to.

The pair of plush couches. A luxurious seat. A location entirely fitting for a different position.

“Oh...” Phoenix breathed, coming to the realization through his buffers, “That’s...”

“Phoenix.”

“R-right!”

As desperate as he was, as they both were, he rambled no further, nor did he try and argue. He simply assumed the new position, seating himself on the edge of velvety fabric. The moment heterochromatic eyes locked with fiery silver, he gave himself a presenting stroke.

“I’m yours how you want.”

Miles was on him immediately, gripping Phoenix’s shoulders and straddling his toned legs. Phoenix expected him to lower immediately, to aggressively ride the moment they were situated. Instead, to his surprise, did further honeyed words fall from his tongue.

“I do believe I’m the luckiest man in the world...” Miles said, aligning himself just so.

“Objection- believe that title belongs to-“

Argument and breath alike were stolen by Miles nestling close, positioning to proceed. Phoenix could almost laugh at how Miles turned his own tactics against him, what with hushing words with arousing actions. But he found himself too shaken, merely reaching to steady his shaft with a hand. He groaned as Miles gripped his shoulders tighter, and as cheeks enveloped his awaiting length.

There was the slightest bit of resistance, the smallest amount of give. Before suddenly, Miles engulfed him, sliding down and easing them into full penetration. Colors flashed in Phoenix’s vision, the feeling of connecting so deeply with his partner absolutely unprecedented. He couldn’t help but moan his approval, his hands flying for purchase on Miles’ body. It took all of his self control not to immediately lose it, biting his lip as Miles sunk further and further.

It seemed Miles had been holding his breath, for he released a groaning exhalation the moment he completely took Phoenix in. The pair panted and moaned, savoring the closeness and allowing each other to adjust. Phoenix nestled against Miles’ bare front, hissing quiet expletives with equally soft kisses to match.

“God...fuck...you feel so good...”

“You’re perfect, Phoenix...Utterly...perfect...”

“Love you...” Phoenix breathed, brushing beneath hanging fabric to get a good grip on Miles’ hips.

“Love you.”

And with that, did Miles begin to move, surely readied to chase what he had desired all day. Phoenix watched with thirsting eyes as Miles eased up, before slowly plunging downwards once more. The two moaned from the passes, the stretches, before Miles truly began to ride. He took Phoenix deeply, and rocked his pelvis with reckless abandon.

Phoenix looked on in awe, mesmerized as Miles undulated and threw his head back. Phoenix’s breaths were beginning to dance with moans, matching the grunting efforts sounding from his partner. The familiar fire was already starting to burn in his abdomen from such advances, his entire lower half alight with sensations. But he wasn’t about to finish quickly this time- not until he ensured Miles’ utmost satisfaction.

This was for him. This was all for him.

So he tossed care to the side, and began to meet, began to guide. With a tight grip on moving hips, he coaxed Miles towards bounces, so that he could properly mirror thrusts. Phoenix jerked his hips upward every time Miles bore down, deepening the stroke again and again. It seemed to have an immediate effect, Miles’ head lulling back even further.

“Ah!” he gasped, “Fuck...Phoenix, t-that’s-“

A tighter grip on Miles’ hips angled him forward, just that perfect little amount to beautifully graze the treasured spot within. Phoenix relished the obscenely loud moan such a shift earned, groaning himself as it instantly resonated in his groin.

“Fuck, Miles...God.”

He thrust upwards even harder, racing against his own body and Miles’ building speed. The office became a lecherous cacophony then, what with Miles keening, Phoenix grunting, and their connection squelching. It was music to Phoenix’s ears, utterly captivating and everything he wanted. Though, he still aimed to take Miles even higher, to draw forth uncontrolled noises as he unraveled.

“Phoenix, I’m...I’m close...Please, Phoenix, I-“

That was all he needed. Despite the burn in his pelvis, the tension in his stomach, the soreness in his legs, he strained to give Miles that last burst of pleasure. He continued to thrust, but reached with a shaky hand, intent on addressing Miles’ neglected erection. He grasped tightly as they both continued to move, tugging and jerking as best he could.

Any attempt at talking quickly turned into a jumble of moans and shallow gasps of air. But the moment Miles crested, the moment his orgasm tightly grasped his body, one thing still managed to ring loud and true.

“Phoenix!”

The cry echoed throughout the space and resonated deep within Phoenix’s mind. He felt warmth streaking against his hand and abdomen. He tugged until cries shifted more towards whines and dry sobs. And that was it; the flames had breached the last wall of control.

Throwing his hands back to Miles’ hips, he slammed him downward and came hard, bursting deep within. His head careened over the back of the sofa, moaning the beautiful opposing name through every intense peak.

“Miles! Miles!”

He jerked, pulsed, and emptied himself entirely into the cramped space. When Miles collapsed against him in blissful exhaustion, he too, melted in dreamy fatigue. The moment he stepped down from his climax, the moment he floated back down to Earth, he sagged back against the couch, something of ecstatic jelly.

The room was nothing but deep, slowing breaths then. After a few moments, Miles eased upwards and broke their connection with a soft moan, before easing to carefully settle atop bare skin. Phoenix could feel dewiness betwixt them, and could feel moisture leaking against his thigh. But he paid the sensations no mind; all he wished to do was marvel in his partner that much more.

He snaked his hands around Miles’ back, venturing beneath his ruffled clothing and holding him close. He softly caressed slick skin, before easing close to capture their lips in an exhausted kiss. Mouths lazily slid about, no glamour to the exchange as lips messily smushed. But when they were torn apart by panting huffs of air, did Miles finally find the wherewithal to speak once more.

“God...That...That was...”

“...The only way I’m choosing to spend my break from now on,” Phoenix finished with a breathy laugh. The mirth only intensified when Miles’ flushed expression turned incredulous, furrowing despite the streaks of red.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous...” he said, though twinkles of laughter were evident in his tone.

“Maybe. But you love me for it.”

“I suppose I do, yes. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Swollen lips connected once more, a bit more tender and composed. They kissed softly, sweetly, pouring all manner of adoration into the connection. Regardless, Miles seemed keen to articulate further once they broke.

“Speaking of ridiculousness, thank you, darling...”

“Hmm? For what?”

“For this! For...” Silver eyes flitted away, like they hadn’t just been caught up in extremely lewd acts. “...Tending to my...atrocious needs so.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh, at the sight and notion alike. He reached up to brush damp grey strands back, before cupping Miles’ face.

“You’re not still caught up on that, are you?”

He snickered as Miles seemed to blush further, practically sinking against his hand.

“I plead the fifth.”

“Miles,” he laughed, angling for a quick peck before continuing. “I adore you, and will tend to you whenever you want. Atrocious needs, physiological processes, or whatever else gets you going- I’ll be there.”

“Phoenix...”

The murmur of disdain was hushed by yet another kiss. Through the sweet connection, and the honeyed lightness in his brain, thoughts gently drifted. Phoenix wanted to stay there forever, cuddled close and deliriously post-coital. He wanted to bathe his beloved in pleasure until neither of them could stand. He wanted to relish in his beautiful body and handsome soul. But with every passing minute, he became acutely aware of where they were, and the subsequent duties they both had. He almost sighed his disappointment against Miles’ mouth, knowing he did indeed have to get back to the agency sooner than later. Thankfully, his brain offered a solution, a solution that pried his mouth away with further snickers.

“Speaking of which, hope you’re ready for a repeat performance tonight.”

He laughed as silver eyes widened- even more so when hands playfully shoved his chest.

“I’m more than satisfied, you goon.”

He beamed, snorting and chuckling a plenty. Another jest manifested on his tongue, one that would surely earn another shove. But if it meant furthering the moment, and chasing after those “damn processes,” he was powerless to stop it.

“Alright alright. Same time tomorrow then?”

#Narumitsu #Narumitsu fanfiction #Narumitsu smut #Wrightworth #Wrightworth fanfiction #Wrightworth smut #Miles Edgeworth #Phoenix Wright #NC-17 #ANOTHER ONE DOWN ANOTHER ONE DOWN #I've been working on this one for a hot minute and was worried my motivation would inevitability die out #BUT NO LOL #HERE SHE IS #SHE MADE IT #And thank goodness because GOD I just wanted to make them drown in each other #I just wanted them to savor each other like they deserve #I will never EVER tire of having them love each other so SO hard #they're so taken by each other your honor

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#pedro pascal #josé pedro balmaceda pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #ppascaledit #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader

[ramblingandwritings]

Jimmy Woo NSFT Alphabet

18+ for filth. This man is too cute

A = Aftercare

Cuddling, this man is a cuddle monster and you can't tell me otherwise

B = Body Part

Jimmy likes his hands, especially now that he knows that damned card trick

He's a bit of an ass guy, he might not outwardly admit to it but it's noticeable when you get him alone

C = Cum

Without a single doubt, he likes cumming inside. He'll settle for cumming on your stomach, but this man has a preference

D = Dirty Secret

He takes a pair of your underwear with him when he has to travel away from home for personal uses

E = Experience

He's had a few partners in his life both men and women, but not many. He's picky on who he has sex with and work gets in the way of his relationships

F = Favourite Positions

Any position that allows for closeness and isn't tedious to get into is fine by him. He thinks you can't go wrong with missionary

 

G = Goofy

Sex is supposed to be fun, so he doesn't take it seriously

H = Hair

He keeps himself well groomed but he doesn't go over the top with it

I = Intimacy

He's sweet, frequently checking in on you to make sure you're comfortable. He wants you to know you're safe and loved

J = Jack-Off

Only if you're busy or he's away from home for an extended period and he has the time

K = Kink

Jimmy has a bit of a breeding kink, if you'll allow then he'll make sure you're filled up. Light bondage kink, but nothing too heavy. He doesn't want to hurt his partner by accident

L = Location

He'll fuck anywhere in his own home and maybe his office, if he absolutely knows that no one can walk in

M = Motivation

You wearing his shirts really does something to him

N = No

Jimmy doesn't want to hurt his partner so he's not trying to inflict any pain or anything dangerous. He doesn't want to share you with anyone either

O = Oral

He's alright to start but he gets better with experience and time. He has a very slight preference for giving over receiving since he enjoys making you cum

P = Pace

Starts slow but he definitely picks up as it goes on. Jimmy gets a bit frantic as he gets close to cumming

Q = Quickie

Once again, if he knows the two of you won't get caught and he has the time, then he's willing

R = Risk

He's willing to try new things as he knows it's safe and doesn't completely disgust him

S = Stamina

He's an FBI agent in great physical condition, he's got enough stamina for at least three good rounds

T = Toy

He doesn't personally own any, but if you have some then he'll use them on you. He's not gonna be jealous of a bit of plastic or silicone

U = Unfair

He's not much of a tease, he's just not good at it

V = Volume

He's not too loud, mostly he grunts and softly moans. He swears in the bedroom, it's shocking given how little he swears outside of it

W = Wild Card

Jimmy likes lingerie that has a bit of flow, like a chemise or a babydoll. He also really enjoys seeing his partner in suits or other evening wear

X = X-Ray

He's got a bit more length than girth, but he's still above average in both

Y = Yearning

He thinks about you a lot, you're normally the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up, and the last thing before bed. Not all of those thoughts are innocent

Z = ZZZ

This man nuzzles up to you and then goes out like a light when y'all are done

#Jimmy Woo x reader #Jimmy Woo alphabet #NSFT #Marvel x reader #Jimmy Woo #minors dni