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“It's kinda' big on me...”
“It doesn't matter...”
“What, do you have some fetish with blazers...?” Phoenix raised an eyebrow at his soon-to-be lover, who was sitting patiently on the edge of the bed, wearing only a pair of burgundy sweatpants.
Miles made a strange face, averting his gaze. “...Do me a favor, Wright.”
“Yeah?” The defense attorney moved forward and placed his hands on the mattress, on either side of Miles, beginning to kiss him.
“...Don't speak.” The jacket still smelled the way he remembered it... still felt the same against his bare chest. Hearing Wright's chipper voice and boyish immaturity would ruin this. He liked that charm on a day-to-day basis, but in here... there was someone else... someone he had some desperate, unhealthy attachment to despite his betrayal and abuse.
Phoenix frowned a little, and then just nodded. Some people just preferred no talking; that was at least more normal than asking him to wear this... oddly familiar jacket. With these procedures established, he continued to kiss the prosecutor, who suddenly seemed to be melting into the bed, lying back and letting his partner take over completely. This surprised the defense attorney a little, not that he had any complaints.
Miles closed his eyes, letting the rising heat in the room take him back. He was sixteen, in a much larger room with no light. The frame over him was larger, too, more muscular, and the hands on him were rougher. He was panting, and in reality, his reactions were doing a wonderful job of exciting his new partner.
He felt a pair of hands at his hips, sliding the sweatpants off of him, and when he felt the sheets against his bare skin, Miles gave the tiniest of moans, slowly rolling over onto his stomach, now taking in the scent of the pillows, which – in his imagination – was so familiar.
Phoenix watched him for a moment, feeling his mouth go dry. Edgeworth seemed to be a completely different man in bed, but he didn't mind whatsoever, watching him act this way. The tip of his tongue traced his lips as he moved over his submissive partner, leaning down to place quick, passionate kisses on the back of his neck, eliciting another moan and a gasp, which were muffled by the pillows.
“A-ah... yes... yes, Master...”
Master? What was that about? Oh well, he'd just go with it, try to get an idea of what his partner wanted from him. He seemed to enjoy this, so those kisses became harder, quicker, getting more of those wonderful noises out of the prosecutor, who was starting to writhe, pressing back against the man atop him.
All the while, Miles could feel the fabric of that blazer, so familiar, making it so easy to fantasize. At first, he had hated this, wished for an escape, but in time, he had come to need it, to need this control, and even after what had happened, he couldn't let go of what had surely become an addiction. He could feel the pressure of the other man pressing himself against him, and this made him gasp and start to beg.
“...oh... oh yes... please... please, Master...”
There it was again! Phoenix was finding this a little strange, but at the same time... he had to admit to himself that it was hot. The more he got these reactions, heard those moans and those words, he found himself becoming more aggressive, more eager to take the control his lover was pleading for him to.
When Miles felt that penetration, a shudder ripped through him. It had been some time, and it was a wonderful sensation. In his mind, he could hear a low growl just above him, and he squeezed his eyes closed, allowing himself to get lost in that memory, mixing fantasy and reality. He loved the feeling of being pinned to the bed by the torso clad in that blazer, giving a whimper as the rhythm started and he could hear that low, growling voice above him, speaking in German, telling him what a good boy - a good little whore - he was.
Normally, the young prosecutor was stoic, only speaking when it was necessary and after he'd thought about what he was going to say. However, as he lay beneath his lover, gripping the sheets and pushing back to match that rhythm with his own hips, wanting more and more, he held nothing back. He was gasping, moaning, murmuring that title in praise and longing, and even crying out into the pillow on occasion. Phoenix was having no regrets about his decision to take their relationship farther, for this was by far the best experience he'd ever had. He kept thrusting, faster and harder as he was being urged to. He didn't fully understand his lover's behavior, but he liked it.
Finally, when Phoenix could no longer hold on, he came to climax, unable to hold in the groan that escaped him. However, that didn't matter: Miles' world had gone white with the sensations that hit him in that moment, and he let out a long, sweet moan that drowned out the sound from above him.
Slowly, he came to once more, panting and gripping the sheets, trying to gather himself together, for he would soon be sent away, back to his room or back to studying; he couldn't remember which he'd been doing before this interlude. However, he received quite a shock when he felt the body above him shift and lie down beside him, a pair of arms encircling his waist and lips against the side of his neck.
And that was when Miles finally remembered where he was and with whom he lay. He kept his eyes tightly closed, feeling sick to his stomach. What was wrong with him...? He was with Wright now, the man that had saved his life when his mentor had betrayed him, and yet he was dreaming of being with the latter.
Perhaps in time he could forget... but for now he just lay still, letting Phoenix hold and kiss him, keeping his eyes closed and drifting into sleep. He could still feel the cloth and silk against his back, but he knew who actually wore it, for the owner of that blazer would never hold him in this way. It was... a nice change, he had to admit, and perhaps, in time, he could transition out of this frame of mind, could develop a new addiction to someone that genuinely seemed to care for him.