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Phoenix pressed wet-damp hands to his face, hoping the chill would help dissipate the tension headache brewing behind his eyes. The trial wasn’t going well – in fact, it wasn’t going, remaining a stalemate despite the ferocious volleys both he and Edgeworth were spiking at each other. Every time he presented evidence, Edgeworth had a piece of equal weight, waiting for the perfect moment to unravel his argument.
They’d made it to late morning without either side gaining an inch before the Judge had blessedly called for a recess.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes left before they needed to head back to court. He imagined Maya was still caught in indecision, standing in front of the vending machine with the dollar bill he’d given her crumpled in her hand. His client was a mess of nerves and anxiety – perfectly understandable, when one is being framed for murder. Phoenix knew he needed to go back to Defendant's Lobby No. 2, plaster on a smile, and ooze as much confidence as possible.
Instead, the door to the men's restroom slammed open. Miles Edgeworth stood in the doorway, a furious, scowling vision in burgundy and grey.
“Of course. Of course you're here."
Phoenix startled at the viciousness in the other man's voice. "I'm all done so I can leave if you want…" Edgeworth's hands twitched at his sides. He turned his head and muttered something, but he was too far away for Phoenix to hear. "Uh, I didn't quite catch that. Could you say it again?"
He stepped forward in fluid movements, his coat fluttering out behind him; his toes tapped sharply on the tiles, counting his strides. Phoenix tensed, then stumbled back as Edgeworth kept moving forward, past the acceptable distance between two men in a bathroom and then further, crowding into his personal space. There was no room left to retreat; he was pushed so far into the corner that the edge of the sink was jabbing into his hip.
Edgeworth leaned forward. "I want you to stop badgering my witness, you second-rate ambulance chaser."
Ambulance chaser? Phoenix bristled. His client was innocent. Anybody with half a mind could see that – as long as they weren't Miles Edgeworth, apparently. "I am not badgering the witness."
He sneered. "What do you call it then?"
"I call it pointing out obvious contradictions. I call it finding the truth. I call it doing my job." Phoenix looked him up and down, contempt warring with the remains of his childhood hero-worship. "You used to know what it meant to be a lawyer."
"How dare you." Edgeworth hissed. He was so near that Phoenix could feel his breath on his face. The man's eyes were dark, wild. Phoenix shifted, uncomfortable with the lack of space, and the unfortunate twinge of arousal he had from being this close to Edgeworth. "I'll have you know that I am a flawless prosecutor."
"Oh really? Flawless?" Phoenix lifted his chin. He'd bluffed his way out of trickier things than being half-hard in front of Edgeworth. The other man was breathing harder, now, cheeks turning pink from anger. "Then why do your witnesses always seem to trip over their…" oh, he might have saved it, saved himself, if his traitor eyes hadn't dipped down to Edgeworth's mouth, "over their… their tongues."
There was a beat. Phoenix's heart hammered, so hard his pulse ached in his throat. He licked his lip, tried to find words – there had to be words, to cover up his blatant desire – and then the thought was knocked right out of him as Edgeworth crashed his mouth on to his.
The kiss was rough, aggressive. Their teeth met, clacked, and Phoenix got pushed back, right into the basin. He gasped in pain and his lips parted; Edgeworth thrust his tongue in and they both moaned. The vibration of the noise seemed to travel all the way down to his cock. He tried to pull back, break for air, but Edgeworth gripped his tie in one hand, wound around his palm so there was barely any slack. With his other hand he held his jaw, tilting his head back far enough to make his neck complain. Phoenix couldn't move an inch.
The lack of oxygen was making him panic. He put a hand on each of Edgeworth's shoulders and pushed at him until their kiss finally parted and Phoenix could bring in gulping breaths to his burning lungs. He wiped his mouth on his forearm and his sleeve came back pink, saliva mixed with blood.
"Hey! What the fuck?"
"Do you want this?"
"What?"
"Do you want this? We have less than ten minutes."
Phoenix's brain skittered over the question – yes? no? what the fuck just happened? – but he found he was already nodding, his cock working faster than his verbal language centres. Then Edgeworth was on him again, not as punishing but still rough, still kissing him like it was something he could win. Phoenix dug his fingers into the ridiculous jacket and tried to understand what was happening. They had been fighting, then kissing? And now Edgeworth was biting his neck, teeth as sharp as his tongue and just as relentless, bruising right below where the collar of his shirt would hide it.
His hand was on the cheap leather of his belt, a threshold about to be crossed, and it was that which made Phoenix stir again.
"Can I touch you?" he mumbled. He felt dizzy, almost drunk.
"No."
Edgeworth yanked the belt free, making Phoenix's hips jerk with the motion. He unbuttoned the fly and shoved his hand under the waistband of his boxers. They both grunted when the hand wrapped around his cock – surprise from Phoenix and smug satisfaction from Edgeworth – and then he was pumping, slowly, awkwardly, with his wrist trapped against elastic.
"I will not let you win, Wright," the man snarled, right in his ear. The words were hot and wet, all humid heat, joined by a too-hard bite to his ear lobe. Edgeworth leaned back, then pulled upwards with the tie he still had around his fist, and kissed him, languid and sloppy, the same pace as the hand in his boxers. "You are a disgrace."
Phoenix moaned at the words. Shame flooded him, pricked at the back of his eyes.
"Ah." Edgeworth's tone was low, almost a sigh of pleasure. "So you know that you're not worth the badge on your lapel, then?"
Phoenix shook his head, not wanting to hear the words, even as they made goose bumps jump on his skin, and heat flare in his belly. There was no escape, not when Edgeworth was picking up speed and running his thumb over the head of his cock. His hips were snapping in time and he was close, almost there…
"You know you're out of your depth, don't you? You're drowning. So over your head you can't see the surface. You're nothing, Phoenix Wright. You have no power over me. I won't let you have power over me."
Somehow, he managed to pull back enough to look Edgeworth in the face. He fought his way through the haze of arousal so he could say his words clearly. "You are so scared, Miles."
Edgeworth froze. His hand tightened momentarily where it held Phoenix's cock, then he staggered backwards, hurried uneven steps as he put as much space between them as he could. They were both panting for breath, the noise loud in the otherwise silent bathroom. The look on Edgeworth's face was unreadable, a mix of so many emotions, so complicated, that Phoenix's heart hurt to look at it. After an agonising moment, Edgeworth turned to the sink and washed his hands.
"I suggest you finish whatever you need to do quickly. Court resumes in four minutes."
He dried his hands and walked out of the bathroom, footsteps echoing on tiles.
Fuck.