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They could see Kristoph from the other side of the glass. Phoenix had worked on the case for years. Years. Years of his fellow detectives telling him to drop the case. Years of sleepless nights going over cold cases long since abandoned. Years of hope slowly dwindling with each passing day. But now, he wanted to laugh in the faces of every single man who doubted him. Now, the man he had been chasing was in the holding cell. A kind smile on his face, like he were visiting a long lost friend.
His face was eerily blank, pleasant almost. To think that someone as deplorable as him could look so kind. Especially someone who was charged for the murders and rapes of several men throughout twelve years. It should have been easy, to convict him of the crime, it really should have. Phoenix knew it was him, he just knew. But any evidence casting suspicion on him was circumstantial at best. Kristoph conveniently had an alibi for every single murder. Any witnesses were either dead or refused to testify. It was hopeless.
And then, came his proposal.
He had said it so easily, like he were suggesting a dinner date. A casual tone matched with the easy pleasant smile.
It made Phoenix sick.
“You don’t want to do this, Phoenix,” said Edgeworth. He cast a disgusted glance at the serial killer on the other side of the glass. Kristoph sat there, eerily quiet. A small smile on his face. Like he was not arrested for the murder of several men. Like this were just another pleasant Saturday spent conversing with his friends in a coffee shop. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” said Phoenix. He did not. Kristoph was a reprehensible man. A man who killed dozens of men just for cheap thrills. He was hardly apologetic when he got caught. A smile on his face. That smile still kept Phoenix up at night. Just the thought of being in the same room as that horrible man made him want to vomit. But at the same time, he knew this was the only way. “Think of the victims’ families.”
“Think of yourself, Phoenix. Why does it have to be you?”
“He specifically asked for me.”
“I know that. I know that he asked for you, and I know that for some godforsaken reason, you feel the need to do this.” Edgeworth could hardly hide his disgust. His disdain. His pleading. For Phoenix not to do this. For Phoenix to fucking think of himself for once. But they knew he would not. They both knew. “But do you want to do this?”
Phoenix did not respond to that.
“Phoenix…”
“Let me do this, Miles.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“That doesn’t matter. I have a responsibility as a detective, and I’ll see it through until the very end,” said Phoenix. He remembered being a young detective, when he was assigned to a hopeless case by some mocking senior detective. Phoenix had become obsessed with the case ever since. What would that same detective say if Phoenix could not convict the man, all because he could not have sex with him? “I need to do this, Miles.”
“…Fine,” said Edgeworth. Bitter and resentful. He never tried to hide the contempt in his voice nor face. They had been friends for years now, ever since they first met in the academy. Edgeworth admired his determination, just as much as he despised it. “It’s not like I can change your mind.”
That infuriatingly sickening smile never left Kristoph’s face when Phoenix entered the holding cell. Phoenix’s tone was serious, straight to the point. That was the only way he could bring himself to do it.
“Mr. Gavin, we accept your proposal,” said Phoenix.
The grin on Kristoph’s face made Phoenix sick.
The room that the police department had given was a holding cell they had fashioned into a mockery of a bedroom. Bare except for a sofa and bed, and a table with a bottle of wine. It was a laughable attempt at being comfortable. Romantic, even. Like they were a shy newly wedded couple out on their honeymoon. And not like he were using Phoenix’s desperation for sex.
The door opened, Phoenix stepped inside. The police officer was calloused as he shoved him in.
“You have three hours.”
The door closed, Phoenix was left alone with Kristoph Gavin. He had never been more terrified in his life.
Kristoph Gavin was sat at the sofa, swirling a cup of wine in his hands. That smile had never left his face, not even when he had first been caught. Phoenix had seen every type of evil in his life. Enraged. Bitter. Vindictive. Subdued. But pleasant evil made his skin crawl the most. And the man who sat in front of him was the definition of pleasant evil.
“Phoenix, please, have a seat,” said Kristoph. His tone was light and casual. A sickly sweet smile hiding a rotten core. He was eyeing Phoenix up and down. Being under his approving gaze made Phoenix feel disgusted. Violated. Like Kristoph was mentally undressing him against his will. “I’m sure you don’t want to stand the entire two hours.”
Phoenix said nothing, even when he sat next to Kristoph. He flinched when he felt Kristoph’s hand cupping his cheek.
“Oh, Phoenix…” Kristoph’s hand on his cheek was tender, deceptively gentle. Phoenix hated it. He wanted nothing more than to swat his hand away, for his touch to be twenty feet away from his body. Every inch of contact on his face felt dirty. Like the very evil from his hands were corrupting Phoenix’s body. “You know, you’re quite handsome, has anyone ever told you that?”
“I…”
“Shh,” said Kristoph. He pressed a finger to Phoenix’s lips, and began a stream of uncomfortable comments. “Your lips are so pretty, aren’t they?” said Kristoph, caressing his lips with his fingers. The almost affectionate tone in his voice made Phoenix’s skin crawl. Talking to him like they loved each other. Likes Phoenix wanted this, when that was far from the truth. “Any woman would kill to have lips as big and round as yours. Has anyone ever kissed you before, Phoenix? Am I your first?”
Phoenix simply shook his head.
“Ah, I’m not your first? What a shame… though, with how handsome you are, I’m not surprised,” said Kristoph. He could feel the rot on his skin just from the feeling of his fingers. Just from the uncomfortable comments that made their way easily from his lips. “I can just imagine it, how prettily you’ll beg. I have a good eye for this, you know.” A smile. Razor sharp teeth in a delighted almost sinister grin. “I’d love to see how beautiful you’d be, Phoenix.”
Phoenix closed his eyes. He would rather be anywhere else in the world. Anywhere other than in the same room as this monster.
But you need to do this, Phoenix kept reminding himself. You need to do this for the victims. For their families.
“Please,” said Phoenix. A pitiful and pathetic sound. His voice came out more pleading than he wanted. Desperate. Desperate for this to be over. Just so he could go home and scrub his body until his skin felt raw. Until the horrible feeling of Kristoph’s touch was washed away from his body. Until this nightmare would become just that, a nightmare. Not a harsh reality. “Just… get it over with. Please.”
“Ah, we only have three hours, don’t we?” said Kristoph. His laugh was pleasant. Phoenix hated it. It rang in his ears. A thundering cacophonous noise that drowned out every thought in his mind. Mocking. Taunting him. The world mocking him for caring about people. Caring about anyone else other than himself. The smile on Kristoph’s face was like the taunting face of the world. “I almost forgot. Thank you for reminding me, Phoenix.”
Kristoph leaned in, slipped his tongue inside Phoenix’s tongue. He knew what this was. A kiss. He had kissed many people throughout this life, but this was different. He was completely engulfing him. Suffocating him, even. As though he cared about his pleasure and his pleasure only. That was probably the truth of the situation. This felt wrong. Everything about this felt wrong. Kristoph tasted like dead petals and rotting leaves.
But he needed to do this, no matter how disgusting it felt.
The sensations on Phoenix’s body were so horrible that he wanted to die. Disgusting. Phoenix hated every second. Kristoph’s touch was deceptively gentle, and that made it worse. The illusion of intimacy. The façade of tenderness and love. He touched him like they were lovers. They weren’t. Phoenix despised him, and every touch on his body. Despised how his cock thrust inside him. Despised how Kristoph murmured empty sweet nothings against his skin. Despised how every kiss on his body would show in hickeys later.
…Despised the stirrings of arousal in his gut.
His body was a fucking traitor. Responding to every single touch, no matter how abhorrent the man touching him was. Every slam of Kristoph’s cock brought a new crashing wave of pleasure that made Phoenix sick to his stomach. This was normal, was it not? The feeling of pleasure with stimulation? His body reacting to every single touch? Was he not the man willing to have sex, just for a list of names and a confession? Was this not what he wanted?
Though, whether he wanted this or not did not matter. This was for the victims. For their families.
Phoenix did not make a single sound, of pleasure or of pain. No, he would not give Kristoph the satisfaction of a reaction. It seemed that he noticed.
“You’re quiet,” murmured Kristoph.
“I…”
“You’re not enjoying this, are you?”
“I am, I-”
“This will not do,” said Kristoph. His tone were that as though he had come across a minor inconvenience. That was worse than unbridled rage. “I like my lovers to enjoy themselves, don’t you know, Phoenix? My victims, as you call them, they always screamed my name eventually.” His smirk was smug. Arrogant. Phoenix wanted to vomit at the sight of it. “Enjoy this, let yourself relax…”
“Wait, what do you-” Phoenix gasped at the feeling of Kristoph’s hand on his prick. Kristoph stroked him into hardness. He barely suppressed moans at every stroke. Bucking into his hands. He was desperate. For this to stop. For Kristoph to keep touching him. To get away from this room and him. To settle into the pleasure further and further. Phoenix’s mind and body were a jumbled mess of utter need and absolute repulsion. His pleads were gasping and broken. “No… no…”
“Shhh,” cooed Kristoph. His voice was consistently tender. A dangerous predator hiding underneath layers of tenderness. This man was a killer. A serial killer. He murdered and raped men for the cheap thrill of their terror and desperation. Why was his touch on Phoenix’s skin so delicious? “Enjoy this, won’t you? There’s no use denying yourself the pleasure, Phoenix.” Kristoph grinned delightedly at the sounds that filled the room, slipping from Phoenix’s lips. “Can you hear yourself? Your sounds are so beautiful, music to my ears…”
“Please, please…” pleaded Phoenix. He was not aware that tears started streaming down his face, only realizing he was crying when Kristoph licked them off his cheek. God, he was pathetic. He hated how he was making this better for Kristoph. Hated his slowly hardening cock in Kristoph’s hand. Hated how his body was enjoying this. This was disgusting. He was disgusting. “This is… please…”
“Don’t cry, you’re doing so well. You’re so beautiful. So pretty for me,” crooned Kristoph. His fingers caressed his cheek, loving and tender. When Phoenix tried to turn away, Kristoph forced his face to meet him. That smile on his face was one that would burn itself in Phoenix’s nightmares for the rest of his life. “You’re just perfect, aren’t you? You’re doing so well for me, so beautifully. You’re taking me so well, aren’t you? I knew you would, honestly…”
It would have been surprising, if Phoenix’s body had not reacted to Kristoph’s touch. Had not reacted to the stroking of his dick along with the thrusts into his ass. Humans reacted to stimulation, it was just a fact of biology. That was it, was it not? He could not want this. He could not want the marks that littered his body, pinpricks of pleasure from every bite. He could not want the hand on his prick, strokes entirely too fast that left his head spinning. He could not want Kristoph’s cock inside him, slamming into him and making him see stars with every thrust.
Right?
Phoenix was not sure anymore.
“The moment I saw you, Phoenix, I just knew,” groaned Kristoph. His voice was low and husky. Predatory. Assessing every door that opened for him. A man taking advantage of every opportunity presented to him. Like with every single one of his victims. Did his victims fight back? Or did they submit once they knew that their lives were over? Did they beg for Kristoph to stop? Or did they plead for more? Every one of those possibilities made Phoenix sick. “That you’d be beautiful beneath me, that you’d make the prettiest sounds.” He pressed a kiss on Phoenix’s cheek. As though he were a lover he had woken up next to in the morning. “And you’ve proven me right, Phoenix.”
Just settle into the pleasure, he kept telling himself. Get this over with. It would not last forever, soon Phoenix could rub any evidence of Kristoph’s touch off his body. He closed his eyes. Tried to pretend that this was a handsome man he had met at a bar. Maybe they hit it off. Maybe they went to his apartment. Maybe that man was smitten with him. Maybe he was fucking him and praising him for every little thing he did. But Kristoph’s voice against his ear broke the illusion.
Kristoph was growling against his ear, a man on edge. Tender tones and praising words. His thrusts growing desperate. The predator in him slowly surfacing from the kind and pleasant façade that he always put up. The same predator that took the lives of many men. The same predator that was fucking Phoenix now. Phoenix could not stop his moans. He did not think to suppress them.
The orgasm that wracked through Phoenix’s body left him trembling. Shuddered at the warmth that flooded his insides. It was disgusting, but it was also relieving. That meant it was over. The worst of it was done.
Kristoph cleaned Phoenix up, a last final “fuck you” he could only guess. Phoenix was silent the entire time. Not giving him the satisfaction of a response. Of disgust or of pleading for more. Phoenix’s head was spinning while he was standing. He just wanted to get out of the room. And then, Kristoph placed a paper on the table. Slid it towards him. Phoenix picked it up, his fingers thumbed at the paper. It seemed plain. Unassuming. Neat handwriting on it.
“…What’s this?” asked Phoenix.
“My confession, of course,” replied Kristoph. “That’s what you wanted from me, was it not, Phoenix?”
“…Oh,” said Phoenix. He read the paper. Made sure it was not a trick. And it was not, it was a true confession. Confessing to every crime that he committed. Every man he killed and raped, some names that he was not even charged for the murder of. “Thanks.”
“This was pleasant, Phoenix,” said Kristoph. A smile. Pleasant. Polite. Absolutely haunting. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
Phoenix did not say anything. He left the room, confession in his hand. He was elated. Relief washed over him, his eyes reading through Kristoph’s confession. He had it, he finally had it. He did it. Kristoph Gavin was going to jail. This was finally over. He did not care what anyone else had to say. Not that very first senior detective who introduced the case to him. Not every other detective who doubted him over all these years. Not his friends who pleaded him to stop his obsession with one singular serial killer.
Not even Edgeworth. Edgeworth’s eyes regarded Phoenix with disdain. His face curling up in a sneer.
“You did it, Phoenix,” said Edgeworth. He hardly hid his contempt. His disgust. Phoenix did not care. “You did it all for a damn confession. I hope it was worth it.”
“It was,” said Phoenix. The confession was his trophy. Evidence that he had won. He never had to think about Kristoph again. No longer had to think about the men he murdered. The touch on his body. The praising words against his ears. Kristoph Gavin was another incarcerated man now, because Phoenix had triumphed. “It was worth it, Miles.”