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The Summers in Okhema were, to say the least, unforgiving. They didn’t arrive so much as they settled. No matter how many windows he cracked or fans he turned on, the heat seeped through the concrete and glass, enveloping him in a sticky, suffocating embrace.
Apartment 3F—the one he paid too much for each month, mostly because the only view he got was the brick wall of the neighboring complex and a fire escape that was missing more than a few stairs. The elevator had long since given up, too, leaving him to lug his equipment up and down two flights of stairs.
Moreover, the AC was broken. Again. His elderly landlord had promised to send someone weeks ago, but the only thing that ever came through the little mail slot in his door was an apologetic letter and even more dust circulating through his tiny, cramped studio.
Mydei sat on the edge of his bed, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, eyeing the bags of gear by his door. Three bulky bags of stuff he’d packed last minute, and a reminder that his life as a freelance videographer was far from glamorous.
He normally wouldn’t have accepted a job so last-minute, but Cipher—a friend and fellow videographer—had bailed on it last minute, saying there were ‘personal reasons,’ and that she was ‘doing him a favor’ by handing it off.
That left Mydei with little more than an address and a promise that the pay was solid, with nothing overly complicated, except that he had to bring his standard equipment. It was just a one-day gig, a quick shoot, but he knew none of the details: what kind of shoot it was, who it was for, and why Cipher had skipped out on it in the first place.
Still… the timing was too good. While he wasn’t behind on rent, his last few gigs barely covered groceries, and he could only book so many weddings and product ads before the bills started piling up. If he hadn’t taken this, who knew how long it’d be before the next paycheck arrived?
He stared at the gear by the door again. Three heavy cases full of cameras, lenses, cables—all the things he needed to make a living.
He sighed and stood up, looking at the mirror attached to his dresser that faced his bed. The reflection that stared back at him looked exactly how he felt: wrung out, tired, and a little wilted because of the weather.
So, he dressed as light and simple as he could today: a white, button-up shirt over pleated pants, both a little wrinkled. His glasses rested on the corner of the worn vanity, and he reached for them with a faint grimace, sliding them on like a final admission of defeat.
His glasses were plain, rectangular, nothing special—but they did their job of helping him see. Cipher always teased that they were a part of his “civilian disguise.” With them, he looked like a mild-mannered videographer by day, and something else entirely once they came off.
With them on, he was… approachable. Unassuming. Nerdy, even. Without them, he looked more like the version of himself that came out after dark, after gear was put away, after editing and sending off final cuts.
Underneath the layers, red tattoos marked his skin. They ran up the length of his arms and down his legs, curling behind his knees, down to his ankles. Most days, they stayed hidden beneath sleeves and trousers.
One arched between his right cheekbone, just enough to draw attention. He’s rather grateful for his clunky glasses during work hours—not that they hid it, but they helped maintain his “good-boy” image.
But once his apartment door was locked and the last emails had been sent, that version of himself slipped away. The neat facade peeled back, revealing a messier, far filthier side.
His gaze drifted past the mirror to his bed. Unmade sheets, twisted and tangled. Evidence of the night’s restless squirming as his back arched against the mattress in quiet desperation.
On the nightstand, a small, well-used bottle of lube lay uncapped. Beside it, a sleek, sizeable dildo rested comfortably within reach, alongside a vibrator.
Nearby, his laptop sat half-opened. Behind the dark screen lay the reason heat pooled between his legs at night—The Deliverer. Phainon. A model who captivated him at first glance.
Mydei had spent countless nights alone with fingers slicked in lube as they traced up and down his chest, tweaking his nipples, hips bucking softly against the cool sheets as the dildo and vibrator worked in tandem against his prostate.
His eyes were hazy, fixed on the videos on his laptop. It wasn’t straight-up porn, at least, not in the conventional sense. Yet the videos felt intimate all the same: product launches, fragrance spots, teasers for watches. Phainon had a way of making everything feel like foreplay. The camera loved him, and he loved it back.
He was a master of his craft. The way his lips moved slowly over lines of dialogue, like he was savoring the taste. His hands—elegant, long-fingered, and smooth—caressed glass bottles with obscene grace, caressing them as if they were extensions of his own body. It was sinful.
Mydei had whispered Phainon’s name into a pillow, thinking about those hands on him, inside him, more nights than he would care to admit.
The scene sent a jolt of heat to his groin, but there was no time to indulge. He had to go if he wanted to make the shoot on time.
He didn’t bother to make his bed or hide the toys scattered about. After all, he lived alone. There was no one else to see.
With a sharp exhale, he willed himself sober, shaking off the haze as he readied to face a day full of unknowns.
By the time Mydei reached the location, his shoulders were aching. It wasn’t from the cab ride—that was uneventful, but from hauling three overstuffed bags in and out of the trunk.
The building sat tucked into a row of similar studio spaces in one of Okhema’s central creative strips.
Cipher had only said “Studio 7,” like that meant anything to him. Still, it’s not his first rodeo.
The front gate was tall and silver, guarded by a single man in a uniform who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“ID?” the guard grumbled, eyes barely lifting.
Mydei blinked, glancing down at the camera bag in one hand, another dragging behind him, and the final one strapped diagonally across his back that held his tripod.
“You’re kidding,” he muttered, but the guard didn’t flinch. Mydei let out a slow exhale, digging into his pocket with one hand while awkwardly balancing his gear. “Yeah. Fine. One second.”
The guard scanned it with a clunky device, nodded once, and handed it back with little care.
He handed Mydei a lanyard that boldly read ‘GUEST.’
“Studio 7. Second to last building. Ask for Anaxa.” The gate lifted with a groan, granting access to the lot.
He shifted his grip on the strap that dug into his shoulder and trudged forward, eyes scanning the numbered placards above each door.
After a long trek down the pavement, he finally made it to the designated location.
With a groan, he shrugged the door open with his shoulder. Inside, he was greeted by a wave of cool, conditioned air that made him sigh out loud—a stark contrast from the heat outside.
His footsteps echoed against polished floors as he made his way deeper inside.
He’d expected to see a flurry of models, but the space was quiet. One lilac-haired assistant jogged past with a lighting panel, and someone else crossed the hall with a handful of garment bags. But otherwise, it was strangely calm.
He eventually slowed near a set of tall, fabric dividers that gave way to what was unmistakably the filming location: a soft-lit lounge dressed in golds, blues, ivories, and velvet upholstery surrounding a leather couch.
In addition to that, there appeared to be multiple different sets tucked behind the main stage: a mattress dressed in silken sheets, a lounge chair, a mirrored vanity, a rug scattered with cushions, and a clawfoot tub filled with flower petals.
Mydei barely had a chance to digest what kind of shoot he’d just gotten himself into before a voice cut through his thoughts.
“Cipher’s replacement?”
The voice was flat, pointed, and came from behind him.
Mydei turned, half startled, to a man much shorter than he, standing just past the curtain partition with arms crossed, tablet clutched in his grasp. He wore a beret-style hat, tilted at a precise angle over mint-colored hair. His outfit was equally as theatrical: a crisp white shirt beneath an apron of sorts, layered with symmetrical pockets, and a silk blue tie knotted neatly at his collar.
If Mydei hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed the man had accidentally wandered in from a steampunk theater production from a neighboring building.
“Uh… I’m looking for an Anaxa—”
“—goras. Yes. That buffoon at the gate never says my full name. It’s Anaxagoras. Director. Congratulations, you found me.”
Mydei blinked. “Right. Sorry. I’m—”
“Mydeimos,” Anaxagoras interrupted again, eyes glued to his tablet. “I know who you are. Cipher had already informed me you’d be filling in for her today. Follow me.”
Without waiting, he turned and swept through the veils. With little time to spare, Mydei hurried after him with his gear, ducking beneath cables and varying kinds of lights before stepping into the main space.
“Okay,” Anaxa said briskly, waving his tablet near the space. “Garmentmaker. You’ve heard of them, yes? Big fashion brand. This is a catalog shoot for their CHRYSOS lingerie line—six curated looks on a single model. Full body shots will be covered by our main camera, so your role is to capture the mood: ambient cuts, close-ups, movements, skin, etcetera. You’re here to capture the intimacy.”
Mydei adjusted the strap of his tripod and lowered the bags in his hands to the ground. “So, standard B-roll?”
“If you want to call it that,” Anaxa said, tapping the stylus on his screen. “Here’s how it’s going to go: you’ll shadow the main shots, get side profiles, body angles, and the intricacies of each piece of the lingerie. You’re going to have to get close.” He paused. “And by close, I mean getting ready to climb into bed with the model. Metaphorically or not.”
Mydei turned slowly, expression blank. “You’re serious.”
“Why would I be joking?” Anaxa replied matter-of-factly. “Cipher said you’d be comfortable. Are you not?”
Mydei turned the words over in his mind. This was all professional. There was no need to back out on an opportunity of this scale that had been practically handed to him on a silver platter.
“...No. I don’t mind. I just wasn’t well informed of the job description since it was last minute.”
“Good,” Anaxa said without missing a beat. “Oh—and if you didn’t catch what I said before, it’s one model. All tens across the board. Don’t worry, he’s… professional… when he needs to be.”
The way he said it made something tighten in Mydei’s chest, but he simply nodded and began to set up his equipment.
Mydei crouched beside one of his bags and double-checked the lens caps, shifting a smaller camera into position. Thankfully, the client didn’t expect full rig coverage. This camera was meant for the softer, more intimate cuts. The kind of camera you kept pressed close to the skin.
He was just beginning to attach it to the external monitor when a voice, bright and unbothered, rang across the room.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone!”
Mydei’s hands stilled.
That voice.
A figure entered from the far side of the curtain, backlit from the hall beyond. White robe loosely tied around his waist, collarbones peeking out, white hair tousled in a way that was both styled and messy. He was tall, glowing, and effortlessly poised.
And Mydei knew him.
The face that graced high-end advertisements. The voice that rang out like honey in product showcases. The hands that stroked over jewelry and fragrance bottles like they were lovers.
The very same man, who, just last night, Mydei had watched again on his laptop as his hips rocked into his mattress with a dildo shoved up his ass, moaning the name into his pillow.
The Deliverer. Phainon.
His throat locked up with guilt as the model made his way toward the equipment area, glancing around with an easy smile that evidently hadn’t been dulled out by the early hours.
“Hey!” the man chirped brightly, stopping just short of him. “I’m guessing you’re the new videographer? The last one bailed, right?”
Mydei nodded once, stiffly. “That’s… yeah.”
“Nice!” Phainon grinned, offering a hand without hesitation. “I’m Phainon. Happy to be working with you!”
Mydei took it. Shook it twice. Let go. His fingers twitched when they fell back to his sides.
The man stepped closer, eyes flicking briefly to the lanyard around Mydei’s neck. “Guest?” he read aloud, feigning surprise. “No name? That’s risky.”
“What—”
Before Mydei could get a word in, Phainon crouched to mirror him, the hem of the robe riding up his toned thighs.
Mydei’s eyes immediately flickered downward, then snapped back up, heat prickling at the shells of his ears.
Phainon caught the glance, of course he did, and his smile curved into something sly.
“So, what’s your name, mystery guest?”
“...Mydei,” he said, voice tight.
“Hm. Cute name for a cute guy,” Phainon beamed, leaning in a little closer like he was inspecting him. “Love the glasses, by the way. Gives you this whole… nerdy, buttoned-up vibe.”
Mydei shifted slightly, his back stiffening under the weight of his stare. “I wear them for work,”
Phainon hummed, tilting his head. “Yeah?” he murmured, voice dropping further. “Makes me wonder what you’re like when they come off.”
Mydei’s breath caught, and he looked away—anywhere but Phainon’s face.
But Phainon just smiled like he already knew.
“Well, I’ll be your muse for the day!” he said breezily, then stood up as if he hadn’t just backed Myfdei into a corner with his words. The robe slipped back down over his thighs again as he stretched his arms overhead.
“And between you and me—” he glanced down with a wink, “—I was a bit worried when I heard the last guy dipped. But looking at you? I think we’ll get along just fine.”
Mydei opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
And just like that, Phainon sauntered away.
Mydei watched him go, back still tense from crouching, but tenser now for entirely different reasons. His hands shakily found the edge of the monitor as he let out a slow breath through his nose.
So this was the favor Cipher had mentioned.
Mydei could practically envision the shit eating grin on her face when she sent him the address.
He was going to kill her.
Mydei stared blankly at the spot where Phainon had disappeared behind the curtain, the heat still high in his ears. Today was going to be rough.
“So, you’ve met the model?”
Mydei startled slightly, glancing up to find Anaxa peering down at him from the side.
“Yeah… I think so.”
“Impression?”
“He’s… very energetic,” Mydei responded after a pause, offering the most diplomatic answer he could muster.
Anaxa snorted. “That’s one word to describe him. You’ll get used to it.” He gestured with his head toward the set. “They’re doing final checks now. You’re fine to prep. Just stay in your zone until your cue.”
Mydei gave a small nod and turned back to his kit, pretending to untangle some spare wire he had no use for.
By the time he’d finished procrastinating his setup, he sat down in a chair with a sigh, and at that exact moment, Phainon returned to the stage. Makeup touched up to a warm glow, lashes darkened, lips slightly glossed.
He gave the main camera a cursory glance before padding toward the couch, slippers scraping against the floor.
Then, he shrugged off the robe and kicked the slippers off to the side.
Mydei’s brain short-circuited.
The robe fell to the floor in one fluid motion, revealing a deep crimson lace set that clung beautifully to his skin: high-cut panties with a delicate trim, garter belts fastening seamlessly into thigh-high stockings, and a matching underbust corset that lifted his chest, framing him like a piece of art.
His dick twitched pathetically in his pants. He was suddenly entirely grateful for how loose they were.
“Why did it have to be him?” Mydei muttered under his breath.
Anaxa’s voice came casually beside him, sipping something from a paper cup. “The whole of Amphoreus is wrapped around his finger. Naturally, he’s our model. Garmentmaker wants reach.”
Right. Of course.
Phainon crossed the room, each step measured like it was meant to seduce the floor itself. And he looked good. Too good. Sculpted where it counted, long-legged, smooth-skinned. He didn’t just wear the lingerie; he embodied it.
And Phainon knew he owned the stage.
He didn’t bother covering up or shying away, even as an assistant tucked a stray hair behind his ear and adjusted the clips in the back of his corset.
He stretched lazily on the couch, limbs falling into place with confidence.
Mydei caught himself staring, regretting it immediately.
Because across the room, Phainon turned his head and met his eyes.
And winked.
Mydei’s heart stuttered violently in his chest.
“Ready on main?” Anaxa called.
“Rolling,” came a voice from the side.
“Alright. Three, two, one…”
The click of the shutter echoed. The main camera began to roll.
Mydei stayed behind the line, watching, trying to act professional. To not think too much. But it was nearly impossible. Phainon moved like the camera was his lover. He didn’t pose so much as suggest, letting his body breathe into the piece of furniture, arms draped across the cushions, neck arched slightly when he leaned back.
He shifted slowly, a leg lifting just enough to show the high cut of the panties, the faint impression of hardness beneath the lace. He was incredibly well-endowed. And yet, he didn’t seem to care that he was practically naked, nor did the film crew. After all, they were all professionals.
If anything, he looked relaxed. Comfortable in his body.
Mydei? He was just a freelance videographer who just so happened to have a massive crush on the model. He was no better than a pervert.
His hands clenched the arms of the chair like it might magically reduce the swell between his legs. He kept his eyes fixed on the lighting cues or on the assistant adjusting the reflector.
Anywhere but him.
“Cut!” Anaxa called. “Good. Nice and clean. B-roll next. Mydei, you’re up.”
His stomach dropped. “Yeah. Okay.”
“We’re doing a close-range profile. We want the details of the lingerie, the texture. Start low and come up. Get the way the garters frame his hips.”
Mydei nodded stiffly. “...Right. I can do that.”
Anaxa barely glanced away from the monitor, only giving him a sidelong look. “That’ll mean you’ll practically be between his legs.”
Mydei thought he might die right then and there.
He grabbed his camera and adjusted his grip, stepping onto the stage. The air felt increasingly warmer. Or maybe it was just him. He approached as steadily as he could, setting the focal distance of the camera.
Phainon, still reclined across the couch with his arms stretched lazily along the top and one knee slightly bent, looked up and smiled.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just let the silence settle between them, aside from the muted conversation of the crew.
Then, deliberately, he parted his legs just a little wider.
Mydei’s breath caught in his throat as he approached.
He tried to focus on the monitor, on his camera, the lighting fixtures—anything but the way the stretch of Phainon’s thighs opened up the deep V of red lace. His skin practically glowed, the garters cinching tight around his thighs.
“You’re very quiet,” Phainon murmured, head tilted, voice just loud enough to cut through the muddled noise. “Don’t tell me I’m making you nervous?”
Mydei didn’t answer. His fingers curled tighter around the strap that held the camera.
Phainon chuckled, low and knowing. “I am, aren’t I?” he observed, like it delighted him. “Is it the lingerie?”
Mydei swallowed the lump in his throat. “...I’ve never done anything like this before,” he admitted abjectly, adjusting the lens, angling it down.
“Well, you’ll have to get closer than that,” Phainon tutted, shifting slightly up on the couch to make more room. “Come on. I don’t bite.”
Mydei exhaled shakily through his nose.
One knee hit the couch first, then the other, as he carefully eased himself into the narrow space between Phainon’s legs.
The camera hovered just over Phainon’s stomach. Every movement of his body was noticeable now. The subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the faint shimmer of body oil on his skin.
It was far too much.
Phainon leaned back on his elbows, unbothered by the closeness. If anything, he looked delighted. “That’s better,” he said, voice dipping as he tilted his head. “Though, I wouldn’t call this close just yet.”
“...I’m where I need to be for the scene,” Mydei replied quietly, doing his best to keep his hands steady and not stare at the long line of red lace disappearing between Phainon’s thighs or how the corset hugged his chest just right.
“But am I in focus?” Phainon teased. “Or are you just stalling?”
“I’m working on it,” Mydei muttered, adjusting his glasses.
“Sure you are. Though from where I’m sitting,” He let his voice draw out before reaching one foot up to nudge Mydei’s thighs open. “Feels more like you’re hovering. Don’t be shy.”
Mydei’s heart thudded in his throat. If his foot had moved any more up, he would have felt the hardness that sat uncomfortably between his legs.
“I need to maintain distance for the shot—”
“I don’t mind a little contact,” Phainon whispered. “Helps with the realism, doesn’t it?”
Mydei nearly dropped the camera.
“And besides,” Phainon continued, one hand lifting lazily to brush his hair from his face, “If we’re capturing intimacy, shouldn’t you be a little more… intimate with your subject?”
He spread his legs just a fraction wider, and Mydei swore he could have cum right then and there. The front of the lingerie barely held back anything. Delicate lace traced taut over an outline that left very little to the imagination.
And Phainon was well aware of it.
Phainon’s eyes gleamed as he looked up at him, unblinking. “Something wrong?” he asked, feigning confusion.
Mydei’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Phainon smiled as if he’d confirmed something for himself. Then, softly: “Don’t worry, I’ll be good for you.”
For a second, the line blurred between shooting a commercial and filming something far less professional.
A voice sliced clean through the tension.
“Phainon,” Anaxa called from behind the monitor, tone clipped. “Cease your tongue and get into position.”
Phainon still didn’t look away. If anything, his smile deepened.
“Yes, director Anaxa!” he said, mock-innocent, like a student caught passing a note around but still proud of what he’d written.
With a slow, deliberate stretch, he leaned back against the cushions, one knee bending loosely while the other extended outward, between Mydei’s legs. His spine arched gently, coaxing the lace against his skin to tighten in all the right places. His fingers dragged along the garter straps, adjusting them with care, as if he were doing it for Mydei’s eyes alone.
Mydei caught every movement.
Phainon exhaled slowly, his expression becoming serious, falling into the role easily.
“All right,” Anaxa called, voice filtering through the set. “We’ll do five passes. Mydei, start from the hip and work your way up. Make the viewers want to beg. Got it?”
Mydei swallowed hard, the camera steady in his hands, but his pulse anything but.
“Got it,” he managed, though it came out thinner than he’d hoped.
Through the viewfinder, Phainon looked ethereal; backlit just enough to throw soft shadows across his body, the delicate red lace catching on every line of muscle. His expression had shifted entirely, becoming more focused, lips parted just enough to suggest something unspoken for the scene.
A shiver passed through Mydei’s body as he pressed record.
He started low, exactly as instructed, letting the camera drift along the curve of Phaion’s hipbone. The lace was pulled tightly across his pelvis, the garter straps anchoring to his thighs. Every inch of him was styled and staged, yet everything felt dangerously intimate.
Mydei’s camera followed the line of his waist, slowly, trailing just shy of his naval. He adjusted his grip, angling upward, only for Phainon’s hand to glide across his stomach and rest above the waistband.
The movement was natural. Organic, yet incredibly enticing.
The camera dipped just a tinge, enough to throw the scene off.
“I said hold it,” Anaxa cut in. “Three seconds on each point, Mydei. Don’t let it drift.”
“Ah… apologies,” Mydei muttered, resetting.
Phainon’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement. “Don’t apologize,” he soothed, gaze half-lidded as he looked at the lens, directly at him. “You’re doing great.”
Mydei didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His throat went dry.
He started back from the previous frame. The camera inched higher, catching the line of Phainon’s collarbone as his shoulder dipped and his head tilted back into the cushion with a sigh. One arm lazily draped behind him, fingers curling against the leather of the couch.
Once Phainon’s face was out of the camera's frame, his eyes followed Mydei’s movements carefully.
And Phainon whispered, soft enough for the mic not to fully catch but enough for Mydei to hear. “Getting a good view from down there?”
Mydei nearly collapsed on top of him.
“Focus, Phainon.” Anaxa snapped again. “Reset. Second pass.”
Mydei did not breathe properly. Not yet. Not until he was safely behind the curtain and far away from the danger that was Phainon.
And gods help him. There were still five more sets to go.
They had already filmed three of the six sets, and Mydei was beginning to lose his mind.
Each look had been more erotic than the last. Phainon knew exactly how to move, arching into the camera’s eye with practiced ease. He moved in each piece of lingerie like it was made just for him.
On top of that, he knew how Mydei was reacting behind the lens, how, with each new set, his pants grew a little tighter.
So when Anaxa finally called for a thirty-minute break, Mydei didn’t so much as breathe a word to anyone before slipping off toward the hallway, camera and gear abandoned.
He couldn't care less about lunch at this moment.
The bathroom was empty, mercifully. He didn’t waste time as he splashed cold water on his face, pushed open the end stall, latching the hatch shut before he unbuckled his belt with shaky hands.
And then the bathroom door creaked.
Mydei froze.
There was no way.
Footsteps, slow and deliberate, echoed across the tile floor. He didn’t dare to move.
A beat of silence passed. Then a voice.
“You know,” the voice drawled, “If you needed a break that badly, you could’ve just said so.”
Phainon. Of fucking course.
Mydei didn’t breathe. Maybe if he stayed quiet, Phainon would—
“Didn’t peg you for the type to sneak off and handle it yourself,” Phainon continued lightly, his voice drawing closer to the stall. “I thought I made my intentions clear?”
Mydei’s face burned. He stared at the lock.
Then, softer, almost politely: “Can I come in?”
A pause.
“Or… were you hoping to finish before I noticed?”
Mydei’s pulse thudded in his ears.
There was no way this was happening.
But his body betrayed him faster than his thoughts could catch up. With shaky hands, they moved to the latch, unlocking the stall.
The door creaked open.
Phainon didn’t wait for an invitation. He slid inside, and Mydei’s breath hitched at the closeness. He was wearing the robe again, but the next set of lingerie was already snug on his body. Deep blue satin peeked from underneath.
Mydei backed up a step, face flushed down to his neck. His belt had already been undone, but his pants were still on, barely—just at his knees. The outline of his dick beneath his briefs was more than obvious now.
Phainon cooed, delighted. “Oh,” he said, lips curling as he reached back, sliding the lock into place behind him with a click. “You really were almost there! Glad I caught you when I did, then.”
Mydei looked away. There were a hundred reasons to stop this. The rational part of him knew this was unprofessional, but that was completely drowned out the moment Phainon stepped impossibly closer.
“Relax,” Phainon murmured, his hand slowly coming to rest on Mydei’s waist. “I told you I’d be good for you, didn’t I?”
Phainon switched their position. He eased down onto the toilet seat, legs spreading wide, blue satin riding high up his thighs.
He patted his right leg.
Mydei stared.
Phainon tilted his head. “Come on. I’m offering,” he said simply. “And I like watching you squirm. Seems fair, doesn’t it?”
Mydei’s body moved without much thought, slotting one leg between those spread thighs. His knees bent, hovering awkwardly at first, until Phainon reached for him with both hands, guiding his hips down with surprising gentleness onto a thigh.
He gasped softly as his cock twitched against the thin of his briefs against the meat of Phainon’s leg.
“There we go,” Phainon purred, “just like that.”
He braced his hands against Phainon’s shoulders as he began to rock his hips, slow and subtle at first, still not quite believing that this was happening.
Still, the friction was electrifying.
Phainon watched him with burning intensity. “That’s it,” he whispered. “Use me.”
Mydei let out a stuttered breath, eyes fluttering half shut as he dragged himself forward again. The fabric rubbed roughly against his cock, but it felt delicious.
“Doing so well for me,” Phainon murmured, hands firm on his hips now. “You’re so needy. Who would have known the replacement videographer was such a cute pervert?”
Mydei’s breath hitched. “...You teased me-ah– first.”
Phainon hummed. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”
His pace faltered, growing more desperate. One of Phainon’s hands slipped down and over his briefs, cupping the swell of his ass in encouragement, to help him move a little more roughly. A little faster.
‘Gonna cum like this?” Phainon asked, practically growling into his ear. “All over yourself, just from my thigh?”
Mydei whimpered pathetically. Phainon’s thigh only flexed beneath him, tense against his cock.
His breath caught as he ground himself back and forth, briefs and the satin of Phainon’s lingerie now slightly soaked as precum dribbled and swelled at his tip. His thighs trembled, each movement tighter and rougher than the last.
His forehead pressed into Phainon’s shoulder, glasses knocking slightly down his face as he whispered breathlessly, “I-I can’t—”
“You can,” Phainon urged, brushing his hair back. “You’re doing so well for me.”
Mydei keened, fingers curling into the robe of Phainon’s chest, knuckles turning white.
“You’re—nnh,” his hips stammered, choking back a whine, “You’re such a fucking tease,”
Phainon chuckled, the sound vibrating between them. “Can’t blame me for wanting to see what a pretty thing like you looks like when he breaks.”
“I–I didn’t ask-hah—for help,” Mydei bit out, but his voice was thin and cracked at the edges. His lashes fluttered as he teetered dangerously toward the edge. “Didn’t want you to—”
Phainon clicked his tongue. “Oh, but you did,” his free hand now trailed up Mydei’s spine, up to the nape of his neck. “You wanted me to catch you like this.”
“S-shut up,” Mydei breathed, but there was no venom behind it, only aching need. He shuddered as Phainon shifted beneath him, muscles flexing against him once more.
Mydei let out a strangled gasp at the feeling, clinging tighter. “Fuck—I’m gonna—” His eyes squeezed shut, voice unraveling to a trembling plea. “Please…. don’t stop moving—”
“Take what you need, baby,” Phainon said, canting his leg up slightly to meet his rutting halfway, “I’ve got you.”
And Mydei did.
His entire body shook as he came hard with a low, broken noise in the crook of Phainon’s neck.
His breath hiccuped, caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob, moaning out Phainon’s name like it was the only word he knew. His eyes were squeezed together so tightly that he saw stars bursting behind his lids, sharp and dizzying.
Phainon held him steady through it, still trembling as his cock gave one last kick, dampening his briefs with cum, sagging forward against Phainon’s chest with a pant.
His glasses had slipped askew, but he hardly had the mind to fix them right now.
Phainon let out a soft laugh, breath warm against Mydei’s nape as he held him there for a moment longer.
“...Mydei,” he murmured, brushing a few strands of hair back from his temple, slightly damp with sweat. “You were that pent up, huh? Would you have let just anyone get you off?”
Mydei groaned into his chest, voice muffled. “Don’t.”
Phainon laughed lowly, fingers still trailing up the curve of his spine. “Why not? You’re cute when you’re like this. Shaky. Ruined. Out of breath. Tell me… have you dreamt of this before?”
Mydei’s breath audibly hitched. He felt exposed. Was he so obvious?
Phainon didn’t seem to need a verbal clarification. Ever since Myde first arrived on the set, it was as if he’d been reading him like an open book. Every stammer, every glance, every tremble of his fingers had given him away.
And Phainon, for all his charm, knew exactly how to turn each page.
“Thought so,” he whispered in his ear. “You wear it all over your face, sweetheart.”
Mydei curled tighter against him in protest, but it was a weak defense at best. His thighs were still shaking, and his breath was still coming out heavy.
Phainon’s touch softened, pushing Mydei back so he could look at him. “You must’ve needed this for a while,” he murmured. “Poor thing.”
Mydei only grumbled, grabbing a piece of toilet paper to wipe himself down beneath his underwear as best he could, considering the circumstances.
The silence settled for a beat. Phainon continued to look at him, drinking in the sight of Mydei’s post-release haze.
“....We need to go back,” Mydei eventually muttered, voice rough.
Phainon’s head tilted to the side like he hadn’t quite heard. Or perhaps didn’t want to. “Hm, do we?”
Mydei narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be a brat,” he huffed, yet the glare he gave hardly had any weight behind it as his eyes were glossy behind crooked glasses.
He was a mess. And Phainon looked far too happy with himself.
Phainon sighed woefully. “Fine,” he relented, brushing a thumb at Mydei’s cheekbone, wiping a stray tear. His eyes then locked onto his right cheek. “What’s the story behind this?”
Mydei could guess he was referring to his tattoo. Little did Phainon know he was covered in them.
“...I got it when I was younger.”
Phainon’s brows lifted. “Younger? How old?”
Mydei exhaled quietly, tugging his glasses back into place. “Nineteen.”
Phainon gave an amused hum. “Huh. And now?”
“Twenty-nine.”
Phainon reeled back, just a little. “You’re four years older than me? Gosh. This makes this so much hotter.”
That made Mydei snort, giving him an incredulous look. “Is it really that surprising?”
Phainon looked genuinely delighted. “I just–no. You’re just so… pretty.”
“I’m not—” Mydei began, but quickly stopped himself. He couldn’t put up a fight, not when he was still incredibly flushed with his pants halfway down his trembling legs.
He pushed off Phainon’s thigh with a soft grunt, adjusting his clothes with shaky hands, fixing his belt back into place. Phainon followed in suit, brushing off his robe in the cramped stall, their shoulders brushing slightly.
Once Mydei steadied himself, he opened the latch of the stall, peering out to make sure nobody was there.
Phainon leaned in close behind him. “What, scared someone’ll see?” He chuckled, lips brushing against the shell of Mydei’s ear. “You were surprisingly quiet.”
Mydei shot him a look over his shoulder, finally stepping out of the stall, eyes still cautiously scanning the place.
Empty. Good.
He headed to the sink, washing his hands, avoiding his own reflection as Phainon drifted lazily out after him.
“You really didn’t answer me earlier,” Phainon pushed, voice sing-song. “Did you dream about that? About me?”
Mydei didn’t look up. “Drop it.”
“That’s not a no…” Phainon mused, pausing beside him to adjust the belt of his robe in the mirror, exposing his torso. The navy satin set was visible now in full: low neckline, delicate satin skimming across his chest down to his pelvis, blooming into a skirt, and stockings that hugged his legs like a second skin.
Mydei glanced down without much shame.
Phainon caught the look. “Set number four, by the way,” he said, smoothing the fabric over his stomach. “You like it?”
“...No comment,” Mydei muttered, reaching for a paper towel. But the way his voice trembled was a dead giveaway.
Phainon leaned against the counter, arms folded. “There are still three more sets to go. You gonna survive, pretty boy?”
“Who knows...” Mydei mumbled, brushing past him.
“I think you’ll like number five,” Phainon said, winking. “It’s sheer.”
Mydei gripped the handle of the bathroom door a little too hard.
“Though number six is my favorite. I’m sure mini-mydei will agree.”
Mydei’s hands fumbled on the handle of the door. “Do not refer to my dick as a ‘mini-me’ ever again.”
Behind him, Phainon’s laughter echoed as the door swung closed as he exited, leaving the model alone in the bathroom, far too pleased with his comment.
The shoot wrapped with a soft clap of hands.
“That’s a wrap!” Anaxa called.
The crew began to scatter with quiet congratulations, voices low and tired but ultimately pleased. The rest of the day went better than expected. Despite Mydei’s inner turmoil throughout every new set, it went well. And it proved to be an interesting learning experience.
Even if Phainon was at the heart of it, he was proud of himself.
As for getting off on Phainon’s thigh? Well. He supposed he could feel quite proud about catching the eye of his favorite model. It’s not every day a fan gets to live out their delusions.
He lingered near the back studio space, half-hidden by the collapsed lighting rig, packing his gear, dazed.
Speaking of which, Phainon, who was now clad in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, a stark contrast from practically being naked all day, found him immediately.
“There you are,” Phainon beamed, lifting a hand in Mydei’s direction.
The studio went silent.
Oh. They must have been talking about him.
Before he could think much of it, he reluctantly took the hand, letting himself be pulled up.
Phainon continued: “None of this would’ve gone half as well without Mydei.”
A few heads turned.
Someone clapped him on the back as they brushed by. “Damn, not bad at all, kid.”
Mydei gave a stiff nod, yet he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. It was nice to be recognized for his efforts.
Anaxa, who had reappeared at some point with a coffee in hand. “You’ve got a good hand,” Anaxa praised, “We’ll probably work together again.”
Mydei blinked. “Really?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean. You’ve got a lot of potential. Don’t let it go to waste. I’ll be in touch.”
Before Mydei could respond, Anaxa was already walking away.
Phainon had left at some point, too.
Mydei couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.
The rest of the room began to disperse as the techs began to power things down, lights dimming. Mydei only lingered a moment longer before quietly slipping out toward the breakroom to finish packing his gear there.
His bags were heavier now, weighted down with neatly packed cords and lenses. He was crouched low in front of one of the chairs, fitting the last of his gear into the padded cases when the door creaked open behind him.
“Woah,” the voice said, nearing him.
The hair on Mydei’s neck stood up in surprise.
Phainon. He was still here?
“That’s a lot. You bring your entire setup with you?”
Mydei huffed a quiet laugh, zipping up the final bag as he stood up. “I didn’t know what I’d need today. After all, I’d only been given an address.”
“...Seriously? You had no idea you’d be filming for a luxury brand’s lingerie campaign?”
“Nope. So you could imagine my surprise. Especially when I saw you.”
Phainon stopped beside him, one hand running through his hair, the other buried in his pocket.
He tilted his head. “Were you flustered?” he asked, clearly savoring the idea.
“...Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
Phainon laughed, warm and low. He stepped a little closer, close enough that Mydei caught the faint trace of cologne—something flowery, with a hint of cedarwood. “And yet, you got the best angles. Made me look good.”
“You hardly needed my help to look good,” Mydei said with a grunt, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Wrong. I don’t just spread my legs for anybody.”
Mydei couldn’t help but scoff. “What if it were the original videographer? You wouldn’t have had a choice.”
Phainon clicked his tongue. “Wrong again. I also have a part in the creative direction. If I didn’t want it, it wouldn’t have happened.”
A flush crept high on Mydei’s cheeks. “You’re unbelievable.” He adjusted the strap on his bag, pointedly facing away.
“Just being honest!” Phainon chirped, eyes crinkling. “And speaking of honesty…” His gaze flicked toward the collection of bags laid out on the breakroom chairs.
Phainon inquired lightly, “How’re you getting home?”
“I’ll call a cab.”
Phainon stared at him like he’d just grown two heads. “What? You’re lugging this all by yourself? After working a ten-hour shoot? In the dark? What if some—some stranger comes and whisks you away?”
“Are you referring to yourself?”
“Hey! I’m being serious here!”
Mydei laughed wholeheartedly, turning once more to face him. “It’s no big deal. I do this all the time.”
“That’s not exactly the problem,” Phainon murmured, frowning. “You shouldn’t have to.” He stepped into Mydei’s space again, brows creased. “Let me take you home.”
Mydei hesitated. “You really don’t—”
Phainon cut him off mercilessly. “I want to.” He left no room for negotiation. “It’s dark, and you’re clearly tired. Let me.”
Mydei paused. It would save him a handful of balance coins. And he was living out his fantasy.
“...Okay.”
Phainon brightened like the sun had risen again right then and there inside the breakroom.
The parking lot was mostly empty now, save for a few cars and trucks of the crew still bringing down sets and equipment.
Mydei followed a few paces behind Phainon, who now carried two of his bags at his persistent begging to help.
The sight of Phainon—bare-faced, hair a little flattened from his hoodie, sleeves tugged back in soft folds—was an incredibly disorienting contrast from the man who’d spent the last ten hours in lingerie and lace.
And yet, somehow, this version of him was just as charming.
They finally stopped at the far end of the lot, where a sleek, low-profile sports car sat parked beneath one of the overhead lights. It was luxurious, but it wasn’t overly flashy.
Phainon popped the trunk with a quiet click and set the bags down with ease.
Mydei stood there, vaguely stunned, staring holes into his back.
“You gonna get in, or do I have to carry you too?” Phainon teased.
“...That’s your car?”
Phainon turned, one brow raised. “What were you expecting?”
Mydei turned his words over in his head. “I don’t know. Something with more… neon. Less subtle.”
Phainon laughed. “I do have a bright blue one.”
“Of course.”
Phainon grinned. “This one’s for when I want to look responsible.”
“You showed up late,” Mydei said flatly, sliding into the passenger seat.
“I showed up fashionably late,” Phainon corrected, shutting the door once Mydei was in. “Big difference,” He mouthed outside the window before circling to the driver’s side.
The engine purred to life, loud and confident, just like its owner.
The inside settled into a hum. Soft, ambient lights lined along the dash, casting a low glow over Phainon’s profile as he adjusted the mirror. Mydei sank low into the leather seat, still disoriented from the sheer whiplash of the day.
Phainon broke the silence.
“You’re awfully quiet over there. Thinking about my thigh again?”
Mydei gave him a sidelong look. “You’re never going to let that down.”
Phainon grinned, pleased. “Nope! Not when it gets you to look at me like that.”
Mydei made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. He looked out the passenger window, his ears red.
“I mean,” Phainon continued, drumming his fingers lazily against the wheel. “After the way you were fucking my leg earlier, I kind of assumed you’d be a little…” he made a vague gesture with his other hand, “clingier. Or at least more talkative. But now you’re sitting over there all shy.”
Not shy. Just in disbelief.
Mydei exhaled through his nose, slow and shallow. “I’m still trying to figure out if today was real.”
Phainon tilted his head in confusion. “I can assure you it is. I still have a cramp in my leg to prove it.”
Mydei bit his lip, looking down at his lap. A long beat passed before he added, almost begrudgingly: “...I’ve followed your work for a while.”
Phainon blinked. “Wait. Really?”
Mydei’s face burned. “You’re good. With visuals. Choreography. You… you know how to take control of the scene.”
Phainon continued to stare at him. Then, a smirk cut across his face. “You’re a fan.”
“Don’t put it like that…”
“Gods. I knew it,” Phainon drawled, amused. His eyes raked over his body shamelessly. “How scandalous, replacement videographer Mydei—do you make it a habit of rubbing yourself off on your talent?”
Mydei groaned into his hands, hiding his expression, mumbling into his hands. “No.”
But Phainon wasn’t having it. He gently pried away his hands, looking at him innocently.
“I’m just teasing. But look at you, living out some long-held fantasy. I’m surprised you didn’t lose your composure the second I got on the couch. I surely would have if it were you there instead of me, all dolled up.”
“Shut up…” Mydei mumbled, glaring weakly.
Phainon laughed. “It’s okay. You were really cute. Still are.”
He licked his lips as if considering his next words. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never pursued anyone like this on the job. Not once. I was equally as unprofessional.”
Mydei blinked, unsure if he’d heard that right.
Phainon shrugged, letting the silence settle before adding, “You stole my attention the second I saw you. The glasses. Your bashful little glances, like you didn’t want to be noticed. But you were still watching everything.”
His voice dropped. “And look where it landed you. Right into my lap.”
That made Mydei go still. He didn’t quite have a response for that, only the realization that, yeah. He’d been caught from the very beginning.
There was a quiet sort of tension between them now, taut and heated, just like when Mydei had first climbed in between Phainon’s legs during the first shoot.
Phainon shifted across the armrest, slow and deliberate, until he was leaning far enough just for the gear to dig into his side. The car wasn’t built for this kind of closeness; the cabin was too tight. But he hardly seemed to care at this moment.
Mydei’s pulse quickened. “What are you—”
Phainon’s weight tipped forward, bracing one forearm as he reached out with the other, gently removing the glasses that sat perched on the bridge of Mydei’s nose.
His fingers were careful, considering the circumstances. He folded them neatly, placing them into the cupholder beside the shift, not once taking his eyes off Mydei.
“There,” Phainon murmured, pleased, “I wanted to see you properly.”
Mydei’s breath hitched. The way Phainon was looking at him, lips parted, eyes heavy with intent, it was like he was undressing him again just with his eyes alone.
“You didn’t answer me, though,” Phainon pressed, tone sultry. “Still thinking about it?”
Mydei would be lying if he said no.
His throat bobbed hard, like he could physically push the truth back down. But the memory clung to him.
Phainon was still watching him. Too closely. Like he could read every flicker of thought that ran through his brain. His thumb was still hovering just shy of his lower lip.
“I…” His voice cracked at the start of his words, so he cleared his throat, jaw tightening. “Of course I am thinking about it.”
The moment that followed was hushed, save for the humming of the car that was still running. It was unbearable. Phainon didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But Mydei could feel the shift in his breath. The tension between them twisted like a knife.
His eyes shut in resignation. Regret, humiliation, want—they all scraped up his back like nails on a chalkboard.
“I mean,” he breathed, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t expect that to happen. And I’ve…” He couldn’t finish the thought. His mouth clamped shut, as if saying what he truly did during his nights alone would destroy what little dignity he had left.
But Phainon didn’t need the full sentence. His eyes glittered with understanding, sharp and hungry.
“Yeah?” he cooed, “You’ve what, sweetheart?” His thumb brushed the corner of Mydei’s mouth, dragging it slowly down his jaw. “Gotten off to my shoots before? To my voice? The way I pose for the camera?”
Mydei’s breath hitched sharply.
And there it was. Every bit of shame he had left dwindled in an instant.
He was guilty. The kind of guilt that curled in his stomach like heat and shame wrapped together, knotting tightly. His throat bobbed again, but there was no pushing it back down now.
Phainon’s voice, when it came, was soft and measured, but cut through the fog in Mydei’s head like a knife.
“Let me ask you something.” He leaned in, and Mydei could practically feel the heat radiating off Phainon over the console. “If I were uncomfortable, do you truly think I’d have followed you into the bathroom?”
His thumb soothed behind Mydei’s nape, dragging him in just a little. Mydei didn’t fight it.
“I kept thinking you were watching me like you already knew how I’d taste. Like you wanted to find out if the real thing lived up to your imagination.”
Mydei’s lashes fluttered. That was exactly it. And now, he was here, impossibly close to the person he’d only seen through his old laptop. Until today.
“But guess what,” Phainon lilted, mouth now inches from Mydei’s own. “You weren’t the only one imagining things today.”
That was all the warning Phainon gave before he surged forward, one hand tugging Mydei’s hair, tilting his head up just enough to capture his mouth in a kiss; heated, open-mouthed, and unmistakably hungry. The other gripped his jaw, thumb angling beneath his cheek.
Phainon kissed like a starved man. His tongue swiped against Mydei’s teeth, causing a breath to catch in his throat. Their noses bumped the gearshift dug uncomfortably into Mydei’s arm now, but it didn’t matter.
Mydei made a soft noise, half-strangled nails digging into his palms as Phainon practically devoured him. Phainon sucked at his lip, then bit it, followed by his tongue sliding past Mydei’s lips with ease. His hands fumbled for something to brace against, but found nothing but the smooth fabric of Phainon’s hoodie.
It was messy. Unpractical. But Mydei was in heaven.
Gods. He was really kissing Phainon right now.
Phainon groaned into his mouth, the sound low and guttural. Mydei felt it more than he heard it. It vibrated between their mouths, and suddenly the kiss changed. Slowed, melted. Like Phainon was trying to savor every second, coaxing Mydei open with gentle rolls of his tongue, tasting him deep.
Mydei whimpered. His mouth moved without thinking now, drawn in, his lips pliant as they parted against Phainon’s intrusion, who kissed like a man who wanted to swallow every sound he made.
And then eventually pulled back, just enough to whisper, voice hoarse: “Fuck, I want to bend you over the back seat.”
Mydei’s eyes flew open. His lips were swollen, slick with spit, chest rising and falling.
Phainon stared hard. He was equally unaffected, perhaps even more so than he. “I would have taken you right there in the bathroom,” Phainon sighed against his lips, “but we definitely would’ve gotten caught.”
Mydei let out a shaky laugh, his forehead resting against Phainon’s. “No shit.”
The car was still idling, and the windows had slightly fogged. Phainon still hadn’t moved, still cradling his head, half-draped over the console. Mydei’s hands curled and uncurled uselessly in his lap.
After a beat, Mydei glanced toward the clock on the dash—9:31.
“...You’ve had the car running for fifteen minutes.”
Phainon paused, canting his head slightly toward the time. “...Huh.”
There was a flicker of recognition, then a sheepish laugh. He slid back into his seat, hand running through his hair. “Right. The whole… driving you home thing.”
Mydei picked up his glasses from the holder, sliding them back on, his breath a little unsteady. “Kind of the whole reason we’re here.”
Phainon peered over at him, expression a little unsure.
“So does this mean I can fuck you tonight?” he asked, almost tentatively beneath the casual delivery.
Mydei let out a quiet, exasperated huff. Not annoyed, just overwhelmed. And a little dizzy.
“We’ve already gone this far,” he challenged, turning to look at him properly, voice softer than his words. “You thought I was going to ask you to drop me off at the curb?”
Phainon’s mouth parted. Just for a moment, he looked genuinely floored, like he hadn’t expected him to feed into his teasing. Then, that familiar grin returned.
“Good,” he replied. “Then let’s get going.”
After quite possibly the longest fifteen minutes of his life, they finally pulled out into the street, following Mydei’s directions to his apartment complex.
Phainon pulled slowly into the lot, engling purring low before the headlights cut out. Phainon looked up at it, then down at the cracked pavement, the narrow entrance, the stairwell barely visible through dusty glass panes.
“This it?”
“Yeah.” Mydei was already unclipping his seatbelt, eyes averted. “Rent’s expensive these days. Pursuing a dream as a freelance videographer doesn’t exactly pay great up front.”
Phainon turned toward him, expression softening. “Well… look at you now. You did great today. Even Director Anaxa thought so.” His grin was warm and welcoming, enough to take the edge off Mydei’s nerves. “You’re going to get a lot of opportunities after this. I’m sure of it.”
That coaxed a small breath from Mydei, almost a laugh. “Thank you. I hope so.”
Phainon smiled and got out first. He circled to the back, popping the trunk open and hoisting all three bags out, slinging one over his chest, and taking the other two in hand like it was nothing.
Mydei climbed out a few beats after him, frowning. “Let me take one. The elevator’s broken. And I live on the third floor.”
Phainon scoffed. “No biggie!” He teased, already walking toward the building.
Mydei grumbled under his breath but followed. The stairwell was narrow and hot, each landing more humid than the last. By the second flight, even Phainon was visibly huffing, but he didn’t complain. He looked around like he found the place charming in some backwards way.
At the end of the third floor, Mydei finally reached into his pocket and pulled out his key.
And froze.
It hit him all at once.
The state of his apartment.
His room.
He went rigid, hand hovering just short of the doorknob. The images hit him in flashes: the mess of gear by the couch, wires everywhere. His unmade bed. The bottle of lube. The dildo. That damn vibrator.
All out in the open. All within plain sight when Phainon inevitably walked into his room.
His stomach sank.
Phainon noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?”
Mydei didn’t answer at first. His fingers curled tighter around the key, then slid it into the lock with a quiet click. “...You’ll see,” he muttered.
The door creaked open, and Phainon stepped in beside him. They both toed off their shoes before stepping fully into the entrance.
Of course, the first thing Phainon did was look around. His expression didn’t change. Rather, he looked pleased. Curious, but pleased.
The space was cramped, yes. But it was cozy. Warm. The space was filled with cables and tripods, flooded lights, tiny potted succulents, and a bookshelf with an array of novels lining the shelves.
“It fits you,” Phainon crooned, smiling. “...Though you’ve gone quiet again. Is something wrong?”
Mydei set his keys down on the counter. “You’ll think differently soon.”
Phainon’s brows knitted together, but he didn’t press any further. He padded behind him in silence to the back, to one of the only rooms with a door. Mydei opened it, slowly, hesitating, and stepped aside to let him in.
Phainon shuffled in, setting the bags down gently.
Then there was silence.
Mydei exhaled heavily through his nose. He could already guess that Phainon’s gaze had made its way to his bed.
“Oh,” Phainon breathed.
He didn’t move. Didn’t want to meet his eyes.
“Don’t,” he quavered, voice strained.
But Phainon was already grinning.
“Now I see!” he bubbled, tone bright with mischief. “Your room isn’t nearly as sweet and innocent as the rest of the apartment, is it?”
He crossed the floor like a predator. And Mydei, frozen by the doorway, could only watch in horror as Phainon reached out to the nightstand.
With two fingers, he wiggled the dildo.
Mydei let out a strangled sound. “Drop that—”
“Nope,” Phainon replied cheerfully. “Maybe we can use this tonight!”
His gaze drifted. His smile widened. “Oh,” he sang, picking up the sleek, black anal vibrator. “This too!”
Mydei was full-on flushed now, jaw tight, hands clenched at his sides. But he said nothing. If he were to confess any more, his pride would have sunk to the first floor.
Phainon didn’t seem to mind. He stood idly, turning the toy thoughtfully in his hand. “Do you have any other fun toys around?”
Mydei didn’t respond. He just stood there, hoping the ground would swallow him whole.
Phainon turned back to him, eyes glowing with something devilish.
“You don’t have to feel ashamed,” he chided softly, “I think it’s hot.”
And then he was on him, toys cast aside.
His mouth found Myei’s again in a kiss that was far less ravenous than the one in the car, but it was equally as deliberate with intention. He nudged him back until the back of Mydei’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and then with a gentle push, he sent him down with a soft bounce.
Phainon followed, caging him in, hands trailing down Mydei’s side as they slowly inched up the bed. “Is this okay?”
Mydei nodded, breath shaky. “Yeah.”
Phainon’s hands slid under his shirt, smooth palms grazing slowly up over heated skin. Mydei arched slightly at the contact, to which Phainon chuckled softly at his quiet desperation.
Inch by inch, the shirt rose up his chest, over his ribs, until it caught beneath his chin. Phainon sat back on his knees, staring, as if he were mapping out his body.
“So you were hiding these, too,” he murmured, eyes once again raking over the ink that crept up and around Mydei’s chest. He pulled the shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it somewhere behind him. His pants followed shortly after, both of their hands finding each other’s at the waistband as Phainon tugged them down, leaving him in his briefs that he desperately wanted to get out of.
Mydei’s fingers fidgeted at the hem of Phainon’s hoodie, but Phainon grabbed his wrist, gently pulling it away. He was about to complain before he saw Phainon’s eyes flick toward the door, lips pursed in thought.
“What—”
“Where’s your camera?”
Mydei blinked. “...Huh?”
“Your camera,” Phainon repeated, smiling like he just remembered a delightful memory. “Where is it?”
“Uh… in a bag. The one with the red tag.”
Phainon leaned down and gave him a chaste kiss before pushing up from the bed, scrambling across the span of the room. He rummaged through the bag, making a mess, much to Mydei’s absolute displeasure.
He then returned with a camera in hand. The same one from today’s shoot, setting it delicately on the mattress beside him.
Phainon looked at mydei with something akin to amusement and expectation. “You know,” Phainon began, “If you hadn’t let me come over tonight, I would have been wearing this for nothing.”
Mydei knitted his brows in confusion. “What are you—?”
Before he could even get the rest of his words out, Phainon lifted his hoodie in one smooth motion.
Oh.
Black mesh hugged his body like a second skin, sheer enough to trace every line of muscle underneath. Slim, satin straps framed his shoulders and crossed sharply beneath his chest, cinching in a soft V that met at a small, gold ring at his sternum. From there, more straps ran diagonally down his sides, highlighting his waist where belts held the gauzy shape snug.
The hem of the lingerie fell just below his ribs, intentionally cut short, leaving his lower abs on display. But beyond that, he was still in his sweatpants.
The contrast was absurd. Soft, low, slung cotton, hiding what was aching beneath. The waistband slung just low enough to hint at the matching black lace.
And to top it all off? A choker. tight around his neck.
“This one didn’t make the cut,” Phainon said offhandedly, smoothing a hand tantalizingly down the silk-like mesh. “So I took it home. And, well…” He smiled down at Mydei, “Glad I did.”
Mydei’s dick twitched again, mortifyingly obvious in the confines of his boxers.
“So worked up already?” Phainon teased, climbing back on the bed, lowering himself between his thighs. A knee twitched inward instinctively, trying to close his thighs, embarrassed by just how bare he was. But Phainon caught his leg easily, a hand sliding under the crook of his knee, spreading his legs open further.
Phainon smirked at the way Mydei squirmed beneath him. He was just too cute. He began littering kisses above his naval, trailing upward; his lips smoothing across the red markings that traced his abdomen.
Mydei gasped softly when he felt teeth graze along his skin. Not quite biting, but nipping enough to tug the skin.
Then, Phainon reached his nipple. He lapped at it first, deliberately slow, then sucked on the perky stud, just enough to make Mydei jolt with a strangled whine.
“Phainon—” he rasped, pushing at his shoulder with little force. “You—your pants. Off.”
Phainon only gaped up at him, momentarily stunned. But then he reluctantly complied. “Just as I was getting started…”
Sitting back on his heels, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them down, kicking them off alongside his sweatshirt.
And once again, Mydei forgot how to breathe.
Beneath the cotton was a pair of sheer, lace panties, so thin it may as well have been painted onto his skin. The mesh shimmered faintly under the low room light, golden threads winding across the waistband. The lace was translucent, and Phainon’s cock strained against the fabric: thick, flushed, and unmistakably hard.
Phainon was aching just as much as he was, the swollen head smearing wetness through the front. It was as if he were wearing nothing at all as the material clung to every ridge and curve.
Mydei stared like he’d been hit in the face.
Phainon tilted his head, blissfully ignoring Mydei’s inner turmoil. “Oh! Right. I almost forgot.”
He reached toward the side, grabbing the camera that still lay where he’d left it. Then, without ceremony, offered it to Mydei.
“Turn on your camera,” he said with a wicked grin. “Thought you’d enjoy a front row seat—no need to imagine anymore.”
Mydei blinked. “You’re not serious…”
Phainon beamed. “Dead serious. C’mon, Mydei. Let me indulge in your fantasy, too.”
He was pleading like a dog.
Mydei reluctantly accepted the camera, hands shaky as he powered it on, heat flaring high across his cheeks and down his chest. The green light blinked, signaling the power. Phainon hastily took it from him, rising from the bed once more.
He angled it just so onto the vanity that sat directly across from the bed, capturing the entire expanse of the mattress.
Phainon bobbed his head in satisfaction. “There we go.”
Yet before he pressed the record button, he faced Mydei. “We can turn it off whenever,” Phainon offered gently, “If it’s too much—just say the word.”
Mydei sat up slightly, propping himself on the mattress with his elbows. “No,” he asserted, “keep it on.”
His face was still flushed to high hell, but his voice was steady now. Certain. “...Just don’t expect me to want to watch it right after.”
Phainon dared to look smug. “No promises.”
With that, he turned back to the camera, finally pressing record. The red light flickered with a soft click.
Then he returned to Mydei, once again kneeling between his legs as if they’d done this countless times before. He reached over to the side table, grabbing an all too familiar bottle with a little flourish as he held it up between them.
“Wow!” he teased, shaking it gently. “You must use this a lot.”
Mydei groaned, his head falling back onto the mattress. “Phainon… get on with it.”
“Alright, alright,” he relented, setting the bottle down next to him. He gave one last look before his fingers hooked under the band of Mydei’s boxers, tugging them down in a smooth motion, fingers brushing down his sides, sending a thrill straight to his groin.
Mydei’s cock sprang free, flushed, curved, and aching, a smear of precum clinging to the head.
Phainon inhaled, low and appreciative. Then exhaled.
His fingers trailed along the inside of his thighs, admiring his body in full.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, “You’re so pretty.”
Mydei, who’d been holding himself together by a thread, jolted as if electrocuted. “...Don’t say it like that.”
“I mean it.” Phainon reached out, fingers curling around his dick, giving it a single stroke, then let go. “Look at you. Flushed and twitching. You’ve been waiting for this all day, haven’t you?”
That earned him a weak glare and a light kick of his heel to his back. “...Do something,” Mydei hissed, breath hitching. “You’re wasting the battery.”
Phainon’s lips quirked up at the corners, exhaling a laugh through his nose. “Fine, fine. Can’t believe I’m being bullied in lace.”
He shifted on his knees, thighs pressing wider, enough that the delicate mesh strained dangerously against the girth of his thighs. The strappy garter belts clung tight along his legs, threatening to snap.
He leaned forward, grabbed the lube, and flicked it open with one practiced hand.
A soft click echoed in the air, followed by the glug of thick liquid spooling out onto his hand.
Phainon’s gaze dropped again. “You’re dripping,” he observed, voice low. “We won’t need much.” And then he wrapped a warm, slick hand around Mydei’s cock fully.
Mydei arched.
Not violently, but like a string had pulled him up from the center of his spine. A sound escaped him, bitten off somewhere between a gasp and a moan, head tipping back as his hips jolted up into the touch.
Phainon held him there, thumb smearing over the tip of his cock in slow, teasing circles. His grip tightened as he steadily began to move his hand up and down, slicking the sides, just enough to make Mydei jerk into his grasp.
“You’re so responsive…” he pointed out, almost to himself.
Mydei huffed, trying not to grind into the heat of Phainon’s hand. “Stop talking...”
“Why?” Phainon proposed, mouthing into his inner thigh, his hand unrelenting. “You’re getting off to the fact that I know just how long you’ve been thinking about this.”
His other hand trailed upward, dragging a fingernail over Mydei’s nipple.
“Or should I say,” he drawled, peering down at him between his legs that now rested loosely in the crook of his arms, “how long you’ve been getting yourself off to me?”
That nearly broke him. Mydei whimpered, small and desperate. He reached out blindly, fingers catching the edge of the blanket beneath him. “Phainon—”
“Yes?” Phainon asked sweetly, squeezing at the base, earning him another buck of his hips. “Too much?”
“No—no. It’s—” Mydei cut off, swallowing hard. “Keep going...”
Phainon’s grin was feral. “You want more?”
He adjusted his grip, thumb pressing beneath the head, fingers working with just enough friction without giving him exactly what he wanted. After all, the night was still young.
Every drag at his cock pulled a breath from Mydei’s chest, each one shakier than the last.
“You’re trying so hard not to beg,” Phainon cooed, leaning down to brush his lips just at the base. “But you will.” He kissed his way up, slow and open-mouthed, lips dragging feathery across him.
Phainon shifted again, lower this time, his breath ghosting at the base once again. The warmth alone was enough to make Mydei’s thighs twitch. Then he leaned in and mouthed softly along the underside, leaving slow, open-mouth licks that left a trail of spit in their wake.
He trailed upward, nosing along the curve as he reached the flushed head and gave it a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue.
Mydei choked out a gasp, his hips lifting instinctively, chasing the heat, only to be met with the faintest suck to the tip. Just enough to taste.
“You—?!” Mydei stared, agasp, voice embarrassingly strained. “D-don’t tease...”
Phainon chucked and pressed one final kiss to the head before climbing up, bodies aligning. “You’re one to talk,” he muttered against his lips, not quite touching. He reached between them, guiding their cocks together.
Mydei shuddered as he felt it—the slide of his heated skin against damp lace, the slight friction of mesh catching where it rubbed.
It was maddening.
The pressure, the texture, the way Phainon’s dick pressed flush against his own.
“Fuck—” Mydei croaked, hips rocking upward without much thought. His dignity had left the room long ago anyway.
Phainon moved with him, grinding down slowly. The rhythm was messy, more about need than precision, but the feeling of it: hot, coarse, overwhelming—left them both breathless and panting against each other’s lips.
The lace chafed against him, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull in the right places.
Precum smeared between them; his own and Phainon’s, seeping through the delicate fabric.
Mydei clenched his jaw, fingers digging into his waist, hooking around the belts. “Y-you’re gonna make me—”
“N-not yet,” Phainon blurted, his own hips twitching. “Don’t come just yet…”
He stilled, their cocks firmly nestled together as he reached shakily toward the lube again. Mydei peered up at him, dazed, lips parted.
He sat up with a shuddery exhale, popping the cap open. The bottle made those familiar sounds, the liquid catching the light as it dribbled thickly onto his fingers.
Phainon didn’t move right away. Instead, he spread it between his fingers first, warming it, eyes flicking down to Mydei’s face.
“Breathe,” he directed, not teasing this time. And then his hand slid lower.
He ran his fingers down Mydei’s shaft, then down to his perinium. A finger pressed against his entrance, and Mydei seized up instantly, breath hitching. “Relax,” he soothed, now rubbing a fingertip around Mydei’s hole.
Without much more hesitation, his finger pressed in slowly until the first knuckle, and Mydei’s breath stuttered.
Phainon took his time opening him up.
One finger turned into two, working slowly, excruciatingly slow, until Mydei was writhing against the sheets.
Mydei had dreamt of this. How Phainon’s long, delicate fingers would feel inside him. And though he bit down on the inside of his cheek, stubborn to the end, it didn’t hide the way his legs trembled or the way his thighs tried to squeeze close around Phainon’s hand.
Mydei gritted out a breath, one hand gripping the sheets, the other furled helplessly at his side.
With each insistent curl of Phainon’s fingers, his back arched on instinct when Phainon brushed somewhere deep and hot, making him keen into the corner of his pillow.
“Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”
Mydei’s jaw clenched harder, glaring up at him with a challenge. “I’ll make noise when it’s worth making.”
Phainon chuckled, unbothered. “Oh? So I have to earn it?”
And then he curled his fingers abruptly into his prostate.
Mydei’s mouth fell open with a choked gasp, eyes wide, his back bowing up from the bed. His hips rocked down onto Phainon’s fingers instinctively chasing the feeling.
Mydei swore softly, biting out, “fuck you—hah—!”
“Working on it,” Phainon chirped, ever-cheerful, as he bent down to mouth at his chest. “You’re being so pliant. Thought I’d reward you properly.”
He started with kisses, featherlight at first, then they became harder. Messier. He licked a line from one nipple to the other, grazing with his teeth, biting down just enough to make Mydei squirm.
Phainon’s mouth drew higher, toward his throat, nosing along the underside of his jaw. “Can I leave one here? It’ll go nicely with your tattoos.”
Mydei, panting, didn’t respond immediately. He was too busy grinding back against the fingers up his ass since Phainon wanted to tease him. He swallowed hard.
“Just—just do it…”
Phainon grinned against his neck, dragging his teeth along the spot before sucking gently until the color bloomed.
Phainon pulled back to admire it, his fingers still moving slick and slow inside Mydei. Then, with the faintest glance back toward the camera's blinking light, he leaned down and kissed Mydei.
It was hot and messy, their mouths parting as Mydei gasped through it, the lewd sound of Phainon’s fingers echoing as they thrusted into him with each exhale.
Then, Phainon stilled. He pulled his fingers out carefully, earning a small groan in protest.
“Mm. Almost forgot something…” he mumbled against Mydei’s lips, dragging away with a line of spit.
He reached to the side, grabbing the small, bullet-shaped vibrator.
The vibrator buzzed low and steady as he turned it on, and Phainon wasted no time in pressing it back between their flushed, leaking cocks.
They both jolted.
“F-fuck,” Mydei hissed, his hands flying to Phainon’s shoulders, pulling him closer. His whole body arched, thighs twitching. “You—shit—”
Phainon moaned. Loudly.
The sound punched out of him, high and pinched, as if he couldn’t help it. His hips jerked down involuntarily, grinding the vibrator tighter between them. The mesh of the lace caught it at the right angle, holding it steady as they both fervently moved against each other.
“Gods,” Phainon choked, voice already cracking as he rutted down again. “Fuck. That feels so-ah–good.”
His forehead pressed against Mydei’s as he ground into the buzz between them. He was unbashfully whimpering now, small, breathy sounds, barely able to keep his mouth shut. And yet, somehow, even with his voice breaking and his breath stuttering, he still moved with purpose, completely in control.
“Fuck. We’re—” he gasped a laugh, “we’re making a mess.”
Mydei didn’t dare. Couldn’t, rather. He was too far gone. Every shift of the vibrator between them made his vision blur, the friction maddening and precise. His hips canted up with each grind, seeking relief he could barely contain.
Phainon, meanwhile, whined again, high and throaty. He shifted the vibrator just slightly lower, letting it kiss the base of both their cocks.
With a trembling breath, Phainon pushed himself back up onto his heels, keeping the vibrator steady on Mydei with one hand.
He pressed his fingers in once more, and Mydei whined, his body seizing at the sudden stretch. His hands fisted into the sheet, curling.
“You’re so tight,” Phainon whispered, his hips giving a needy twitch as the vibrations of the toy still thrummed through his body. “I can feel you clenching down every time you breathe.”
“You’re—ngh—annoying,” Mydei gritted out, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice.
His body moved without much thought, rocking helplessly between Phainon’s fingers and the pulsing vibrator.
Then, he pushed the vibrator lower, slicked now from their precum. It slipped against his fingers, and without much of a warning, he removed them, lining the toy up instead.
“Wait—” Mydei started, but it was too late.
The toy eased in, slow and steadily, guided by Phainon's fingers.
“Phai–”
Mydei’s breath hitched. His hips jerked, muscles clenching tightly around it in protest, and then—
His entire body seized, orgasm hitting him like a jolt of electricity. His back arched violently off the bed as he came with no buildup, no warning, just a staggering wave of pleasure that ripped the air from his lungs.
Ribbons of white spilled across his stomach, streaking up his chest, even dotting his chin. His thighs trembled, shuddering with aftershock, his toes curling hard against the mattress.
Phainon blinked, then laughed—giddy and delighted. “No way,” he breathed, almost disbelieving. “Already?”
Mydei couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but nothing coherent came out. His chest rose and fell in ragged waves, jaw slack after what had just been pulled from him like a taut wire.
“You’re unreal,” Phainon admired. His hand smoothed down Mydei’s thigh, lapping up his release with a finger.
Phainon lifted the finger to his mouth, slow and deliberate, curling his tongue around the tip as if savoring something sweet. His eyes fluttered close as he sucked it clean, moaning softly like he hadn’t just coaxed Mydei into one of the best orgasms of his entire life moments ago.
The wet pop of his fingers snapped Mydei back to himself, just for a moment.
He looked up just in time to see it. And unfortunately, he became hyper aware of everything else too: the damp lace threatening to rip under Phainon’s heavy cock, the way it twitched behind the ruined mesh, leaking with restraint.
But before he could collect a single thought through the growing overstimulation of the vibrator still pulsing inside him, Phainon twisted his wrist, angling it down and hitting that spot again.
Mydei’s entire body locked. His mouth parted in a breathless gasp, a full body-shiver racing down his spine. He trembled violently, thighs clamping down too late.
The toy buzzed on, its head pressed firm to his prostate to the point his vision began to blur around the edges.
Tears pricked at his eyes.
This bastard—
Phainon hummed. “Too much?” He began to slide the toy out agonizingly slow.
Mydei barely managed to choke out some semblance of a coherent sentence through his haze. “I j-just came,” he grit out, blinking hard. “And I’m—nh- not… not on the toy.”
And then, wobbly, almost pitifully, he lifted his knee, pressing it against the hardness between Phainon’s legs. The pressure wasn’t much, but it was enough to earn a twitch of his hips and a whimper.
Enough to prove his damn point.
Phainon folded slightly, giving a throaty laugh. “You—”
But instead of retaliating, he reached over Mydei once more, grabbing the dildo just shy of Mydei’s head.
Mydei sniffled, looking at him in suspicion. “W-what… what are you…”
“You’ll see.” Phainon unhooked the straps holding the panties, unfastening the delicate bands one by one with a cruel slowness.
The mesh, damp and stretched, peeled down over his thighs and caught around his knees.
His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, and tip glistening. It curved toward his stomach, twitching visibly as a fresh bead ran down the shaft.
Mydei’s mouth parted.
Phainon didn’t miss it. His expression went devilish. “Eager?”
“Shut up…” Mydei rasped, though his eyes didn’t move.
With one hand, Phainon gave himself a few long strokes, slow and indulgent. His thumb smeared precum down the length, slicking it thoroughly, the sound wet and obscene.
It pooled at his palm, and then, he reached for the dildo.
He slicked it with his mess, fingers curling around it with a twist of his wrist.
Mydfei stared, dazed, hot, the flush creeping up his neck again.
Phainon made a pleased sound in his throat. “Don’t worry,” he said airily, nudging Mydei’s thighs apart again. “You’re still plenty slicked up and warmed down here.”
As if to prove his point, Phainon slid a finger in effortlessly.
Mydei gasped, the intrusion dizzying. “Hah—!”
“See?” He withdrew the finger as quickly as he inserted it, and instead positioned the dildo, pressing the tip just barely inside.
And then, unhurriedly, he eased it in.
Mydei sucked in a breath that barely made it out.
The stretch was different than Phainon’s fingers: long, warm, new. This sensation was familiar—firmer, thicker, and cold.
He squirmed beneath it, leg flexing outward, his body involuntarily grinding back as if to meet it faster.
“Look at you,” Phainon cooed. His hand held it steady at the base, guiding the toy deeper with each shallow thrust. “No wonder you keep it so close by.”
He leaned down, sucking at Mydei’s hip as the toy slid in to the base.
And oh, did he want more.
Mydei didn’t answer, but to acknowledge Phainon’s words, he canted his hips, chasing the next thrust—that should be enough of a response.
“God, you’re so—” Phainon ran a hand through his hair, breathless, unable to tear his gaze away. “We should have met sooner. I feel like your fan right now. I’m—fuck, I’m obsessed with you, it’s embarrassing.”
Phainon didn’t relent. With one hand still steady at the base of the dildo, he grabbed the vibrator again, flicking it back on to the highest setting, bringing it back between their bodies.
He ghosted it along the length of Mydei’s semi-softened cock, letting it tease along the shaft.
Mydei twitched. “P-phainon—”
Phainon dragged the vibrator up, circling the tip. Then, lower, to the underside, then back up again, right at the slit of his dick. His fingers curled lightly around him to keep it in place, letting the toy hum directly over the most sensitive part, practically back to full hardness.
“You—you’re not going to—” Mydei writhed, gasping, “I’m gonna—”
“Hold out a little longer,” Phainon soothed, “You can do that, right?”
The words sent a fresh shiver down Mydei’s spine, thighs shaking as the vibrator circled again, languid now, cruel in its accuracy. His cock was fully erect again: angry, flushed, and dripping onto his stomach as well as Phainon’s hand from the overstimulation.
Phainon rocked the dildo in deeper, twisting it firmly with his wrist, pushing it until the base met Mydei’s ass with a sound that echoed throughout the room.
Mydei could barely see through the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His lips parted in a silent moan, neck and back arched, wrists flexing uselessly against the sheets he’d fisted tight.
Every moment, every agonizing thrust of the toy, every thrust of the vibrator flush against his tip sent sparks shooting through him, like his whole body was being wrung loose.
“Phai–nnh–!”
“That’s it,” Phainon whispered reverently, unspoken awe in his tone. “You can come, Mydei.”
And Mydei did.
Once again, his body snapped taut, hips lifting clean off the bed in one, final helpless thrust as a sobbing cry tore from his throat. His cock spasmed wildly in Phainon’s grip, cum spilling over his skin in thick spurts. It coated Phainon’s palm, his naval, smearing the vibrator still pressed between them.
Phainon didn’t turn it off. Not immediately, he kept the toy there a second longer, just to watch Mydei surrender to the pulses, marveling at the sight.
His breath caught in his throat. Then, finally, he turned it off, letting the vibrator fall gently to the side, slick with Mydei’s release.
Mydei exhaled shakily, chest rising and falling, body twitching. His head lolled to the side, jaw slack, lashes heavy with tears.
And Phainon was a pathetic man. He was practically no better than the man beneath him, who shamelessly admitted to touching himself to his work.
It didn’t take long for Phainon’s whole body to go rigid, eyes locked on the mess smeared across his fingers, Mydei’s stomach, his debauched face. His hips stuttered forward into nothing. And then he broke.
A raw, shattered whine punched out of him as he came. Completely untouched.
His cock jerked as he spilled over the edge, thick and hot, painting Mydei’s stomach in messy stripes that mingled with Mydei’s release.
The sheer amount of it made Phainon dizzy, his whole body seizing forward.
His hands braced weakly at the sides of Mydei’s head, who blinked up at him through a haze. Yet, somehow, managed to look incredibly smug.
“You…” Mydei breathed, voice rough, still panting.
Phainon swallowed hard, aware of what what was coming.
Mydei’s lips twitched, razor sharp. “Just from watching me…”
Phainon huffed a shaky laugh and let his head drop to Mydei’s shoulder. “You’re the one who came just from the vibrator… you don’t get to act smug.”
Mydei gave a quiet, satisfied hum, despite every inch of his body trembling under the weight of overstimulation. “You started it.”
“And I’ll finish it, too. Just… need a sec,” Phainon muttered, still dazed, rolling to the side. He groaned at the wet sound between them as his legs finally peeled off the sheets.
The room was a mess. They were a mess.
Mydei blinked up at the ceiling, the fog in his head somewhat clearing up. Sweat and cum cooled across his skin, evidence of their escapades.
He rolled onto his side, facing Phainon, who was still catching his breath, the mess on his thighs glinting under the lights. The ruined mesh lay crumpled by his foot, and the garter straps hung limp across his legs like ribbons.
Gods. He still couldn’t believe that this was real. That this was happening. Happened.
Mydei reached out before he even realized it, palms slowly dragging down Phainon’s stomach. His touch was languid. Reverent. He trailed his fingers along the lines of muscle beneath the tight mesh. He trailed them back up, across his chest, brushing delicately over the peak of his nipple.
Mydei rubbed circles there, thumb brushing lazily, before flattening his hand, dragging it down again. Just to feel him. To have him under his palms.
Phainon’s eyes fluttered close, a sigh escaping his nose. “You’re touching me like I’m sacred,” he huffed out a laugh. “This is first-class treatment. Didn’t know my number one fan came with the deluxe package.”
Mydei groaned, fingers digging hard into the fabric. “Shut up…” he muttered, dragging his hand lower. “You’re ruining it.”
Phainon grinned, one eye cracking open just enough to watch him with a playful smile. “I’m just saying… you’re like a limited edition wet dream. Still sealed, waiting to be unwrapped and fucked stupid. You know?”
Mydei’s hand froze. His expression deadpanned. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to throw you off the bed.”
“Well,” Phainon drawled, inching a little closer with a breathy laugh, “we still haven’t gotten to that part yet.”
His words lingered, heavy and suggestive, but Mydei didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes trailed up to the tight material around Phainon’s throat. He reached up slowly, hooking a finger under the band, tugging it down.
Phainon choked on a breath, lips parted, but he didn’t resist. He let himself be pulled forward, dropping easily over Mydei, their mouths meeting in a kiss that shut him up instantly.
It started slow and sweet. Just lips brushing. But of course, it didn’t say that way.
Phainon tilted his head and deepened it, his lips parting with a sigh, tongue curling eagerly into Mydei’s mouth. The groan that followed was faint yet hungry, vibrating low in his throat. He licked deep, sucking on Mydei’s tongue before tilting his head further, dragging his slick tongue along the roof of Mydei’s mouth.
Mydei’s breath hitched, matching pressure for pressure, the slick, wet sounds spilling between them as their tongues tangled.
Threads of saliva stringing and stretching between each messy kiss and lick, and their teeth clicked softly against each other’s, but neither was willing to slow or pull away.
Phainon moaned his mouth, the noise settling deep down Mydei’s throat. They both exhaled heavily through their noses in unison as Mydei’s fingers clenched tighter around the choker, yanking Phainon impossibly closer.
Their hips began to move with a steady rhythm, grinding slowly together. Both still softened, but swelling swifting with every desperate roll and press.
Mydei groaned into the kiss, tilting his head back slightly as Phainon’s cock—now freed from the confines of lace—pressed flush against his own, thickening rapidly, the tip tracing circles beneath his with every languid motion of their hips.
Phainon swallowed another breath eagerly, lapping into Mydei’s mouth like a dog, dragging his tongue across his teeth.
When he finally pulled back with a low, obscene smack, his teeth caught Mydei’s bottom lip before letting go.
A thin thread of saliva stretched between their parted mouths, both gasping softly.
Phainon lingered above him, the string of spit finally breaking as it slipped messily down Mydei’s chin. He was about to lean in again, but he paused as if remembering something.
“Wow. I can’t believe the camera’s still running,” he rasped, far too pleased.
Mydei blinked, dazed. “What…?”
Phainon gave a hoarse laugh, dragging the back of his hand across his lips. “Seriously,” he continued, eyes flicking toward the steady red light behind them. “How the fuck hasn’t it died yet? This is going to be the longest sex tape in existence. I can’t wait to watch it back.”
Mydei groaned immediately, burying his face in his arm. “Don’t call it that…”
Phainon looked back at him. “You’re right. It’s more of an art piece.”
Mydei growled into the crook of his arm.
Phainon, ever cheerful, dick still on full display against his stomach, did not stop talking. “You were moaning like a professional,” he added, voice lilting as he pried away Mydei’s arm from his face. “Too bad it’s just for you—and me, of course.”
He paused. “...Only if that’s okay. I mean. I was kinda under the impression that this would be more than a one-time thing.”
Mydei lifted his head just enough to shoot Phainon a look. Or, the closest thing to a scowl when his face was flushed, lips swollen, still dripping with spit. “Are you daft?”
“…Huh?”
“I’m obviously into you,” Mydei muttered, cheeks flushed. “I’ve had a crush on you since before I even met you. You’re—” he exhaled sharply, almost embarrassed, all things considered. “You’re quite literally my wet dream.”
Phainon looked like he’d just been punched in the lungs, but his eyes glowed. If he had a tail, it’d surely be wagging.
Mydei gave a tired, breathless huff. “I think we’re a match made in heaven. Or hell. One of those.”
Phainon’s smile stretched wide across his face. “You’re going to kill me.”
“No,” Mydei shot, deadpan. “I’m going to ride you after you fuck me. Now get on with it.”
“...Do you have a condom?”
“...Don’t bother. You already used your cum as lube, anyway.”
Phainon scrambled up with a new purpose, laughing, still flushed in the face. He reached for the bottle of lube, shaking it once before uncapping it. The slick sound followed as he coated his hand and stroked himself quickly and efficiently.
Mydei exhaled, amused. “Slow down there, puppy.”
“...Puppy?” he echoed, “Is this your way of saying you want me to breed you?”
“That's—“
“No need to confirm or deny, Mydei. I can see straight through you,” Phainon said sweetly.
He guided himself back between Mydei’s legs, which now rested on his shoulders. Mydei’s calves tensed against his back, but he was relaxed. Open. On display. His fingers dug faintly into the sheets, staring at Phainon with heated desire, half-frustration for taking too long.
His hand wrapped snug around the base of his cock, resting the tip against Mydei’s ass.
Mydei shifted back, the tip catching right at his entrance. “...Hurry up.”
At that, Phainon slowly pressed his cock inside Mydei. Phainon gasped at the tight heat, and Mydei groaned, grabbing at the hand that pressed to his hip.
Mydei moaned shakily, fingers climbing from his hand to Phainon’s shoulder, clutching tight.
Phainon paused, just for a moment, watching Mydei’s expression for any change. For any flicker of discomfort. When all he got was a kick to his back, he took it as a sign to keep moving.
He pressed forward, hips shifting as the head finally breached. The initial resistance gave way slowly, and heat bloomed around him as he eased in, inch by inch. The stretch was delicious—tight and warm, pulling a groan from his throat.
Mydei sighed in frustration. “Phainon.”
Message received.
With a slow, meticulous roll of his hips, Phainon pushed in the rest of the way, bottoming out with a low, guttural sound.
“Good?”
“Mm”
The pressure of Mydei’s thighs caging his face, the warmth around him, the look on his face—it hit Phainon all at once. He stilled for a second, shuddering, trying not to rut like an animal and come too quickly.
“...You think too loud. Move, Phainon…”
Phainon laughed softly. Then he obeyed.
He drew his hips back slowly, before snapping forward again, angled and deep. His rhythm was deliberate, grinding rather than slamming, letting every thrust land heavily.
Mydei gasped beneath him, mouth parting on a sigh, back arching from the sheets.
Each thrust was smoother, more fluid; hands now finding purchase under Mydei’s knees to fold him practically in half.
Phainon leaned down again, fucking him deep and slow, nipping at the underside of his chin. “Gods, Mydei, you’re so tight still—fuck—I swear I’m gonna lose my mind—”
Mydei mewled, and Phainon thrusted more forcefully, feeling the heat that gave way to his cock. His moans blended with Phainon’s, each thrust wringing another sound from deep in their chests, the room echoing with the slick slap of skin, of breathy gasps and stuttered curses.
The pressure was rising too quickly. Mydei could practically feel the tight pull coiling in his gut with every slow drag of Phainon’s cock.
Mydei groaned, frustrated. “Wait—wait—”
Phainon stilled immediately. “H-huh?”
Before Phainon could probe more, Mydei shoved at his shoulder, pushing him away.
Phainon let out a surprised oof as he hit the bed, flat on his back. He blinked rapidly up toward the ceiling before the weight shifted. Mydei climbed over him, straddling his thighs with a shaky breath, now facing the camera head-on.
Phainon stared like he’d been struck dumb.
Mydei, flushed, sweaty, and ruined, was now straddling him.
Slick between trembling legs, his chest rising and falling. His thighs shook against Phainon’s hips as he reached down, blindly lining him up again.
Phainon let out a shaky moan the moment the head of his cock brushed back into that sweet heat. He was still sheathed in the upper half of the lingerie, straps and mesh damp against his torso, collar snug around his throat, tugging chengly every time he angled his head to look up at Mydei.
“You’re seriously gonna kill me…”
Mydei gave him a flat, exhausted look. “You said that already.”
And then he sank down.
Phainon choked, hands immediately seeking Mydei’s waist. “F-fuck—”
The heat, the tightness—it pulled a guttural sound from his throat as Mydei sheathed his cock in one motion, toned thighs flexing on either side of his hips.
He didn’t move quite yet, still getting used to the new angle, breathing heavy, catching his balance with both palms braced against Phainon’s chest.
“You good?” Phainon rasped, barely able to keep still under him. He was trembling just as much as he was.
“S-stop talking…”
And then Mydei started to move. He rolled his hips forward slowly, circling once, then rose up and dropped back down with a wet slap.
Phainon whimpered, shallowing, canting up to meet him.
“You’re—ah- clenching down on me so hard—” Phainon bit out, eyes rolling back briefly.
The angle was devastating. Mydei kept control, bouncing steadily as he could now, the filthy sounds once again echoing throughout the room. His nails dragged down Phainon’s chest, scraping lightly across the material clinging to him.
Phainon’s eyes locked on the way Mydei rode him; how he took every inch with practiced ease, how he kept him buried so, so deep, hips rolling in steady, deliberate motions. The rhythm wasn’t rushed, but it was hungry. Focused. Each bounce dragged noises out of him that he didn’t even know he could make.
He looked absolutely sinful from below.
But Mydei hardly spared him a glance. Rather, his eyes were fixed on the mirror. The camera.
On himself—riding Phainon with precision, dragging moans from him like a slow seduction. He watched the steady roll of his hips, the way Phainon’s cock disappeared inside him. The red light blinked steadily behind the glass, and he held its gaze like a dare.
He didn’t know what took over him, but at this moment, he felt powerful.
There he was—fucking The Deliverer, Amphoreus’ golden boy, the very model that had the entire world wrapped around his finger. Phainon was supposed to be with all the fans, the power, the poise.
And yet Mydei was the one on top.
He licked the sweat that dripped from his upper lip, then deliberately rolled his hips slower, harder—just to watch the way his body trembled atop Phainon.
He looked good. Painfully so. He almost felt bad for the man beneath him.
“Gods,” Phainon croaked, voice strangled. “You watching yourself, baby?”
Mydei hummed low in his throat, hips stuttering on the next drop. “If we’re filming a sex tape,” he panted, eyes still locked on the mirror, “I might as well indulge.”
Phainon’s hands flexed hard on his thighs, wanting so badly to move—to help, thrust, fuck him deep—but he didn’t. Mydei was setting the pace. Setting the stage.
Making it known whose show this was.
“You—hah… you look,” Phainon’s breath hitched as Mydei sank again, walls squeezing tight around him, warm and hot. “You’re—fuck Mydei—”
His head tipped back briefly as he adjusted his knees wider, canting his hips just so, rutting in deep. The drag of Phainon’s cock hit just right against his prostate, and Mydei gasped, a tremor rushing from head to toe, thighs tightening around him.
At that, Phainon’s restraint shattered.
With a grunt, he surged upward, arms looping tightly around Mydei’s waist. In one swift, staggering motion, he got up onto his knees, hauling Mydei with him with a yelp, folding him close.
Mydei gasped, legs instinctively wrapping around Phainon’s back as his back arched in his hold. “Phai—!”
Phainon buried his face against Mydei’s throat, clutching him tightly. “I can’t—I need—just let me—”
And then he fucked up into him. Ruthless. Deep. Barely giving either of them room to breathe.
Mydei cried out, his whole body jolting with the first thrust. His arms scrambled to wrap around Phainon’s shoulders, fingers clutching the fabric of the lingerie, mouth falling open as he rocked in time with every hard, desperate rut.
There was no mattress now. No leverage aside from Phainon’s strong arms locked tight around his lower back and the raw drive of his hips. He held Mydei like he weighed nothing, muscles shaking as he bounced Mydei mercilessly on his cock—again and again and again.
“F-fuck,” Mydei cried, head tipped back, body spasming.
“I’ve got you,” Phainon managed, wild-eyed. “So close—gods, I can feel you everywhere—”
Mydei keened, the sound raw and high as his whole body lurching forward, breath catching on a sob of pleasure as Phainon’s cock drove into him. Every thrust knocked the air out of his lungs. Every wet slap of skin made his thighs twitch and his hole clench tight around the heat deep inside him.
He couldn’t keep up anymore. His rhythm fell apart. His hips rocked back only to be forced forward again, but the sheer force of Phainon’s pace, his body jostled in the model’s arms like a ragdoll. He clung to his shoulders, half folded in on himself, legs shaking, spine arched.
The head of Phainon’s cock dragged over his prostate again, and a throaty cry clawed its way out of him.
His own cock, neglected and flushed dark, leaked heavily onto his stomach. The friction wasn’t enough.
Shakily, he forced one hand between them, fingers fumbling until they wrapped around himself. He hissed through his teeth, stroking himself in time with the brutal pace, palm sliding up and down his shaft messily.
Phainon whined beneath him. “Mydei—”
“I’m gonna come,” Mydei rasped, voice cracking. “I need it—need you to–fuck—don’t stop—”
“Mydei—I’m—” Phainon was barely coherent, his voice dissolving into breathless whimpers, yet he kept his hands flexed tight around Mydei’s waist. “Where—where do I—”
“In,” Mydei begged. “Inside. I want it.”
Phainon groaned loudly, teeth clenched, cock twitching deep inside as he came hard, thrusts stuttering as he spilled into him.
Heat flooded Mydei’s insides, thick and seemingly unending.
It was too much.
And Mydei broke.
He sobbed out, voice strained and wrecked as he came with one last jerk of his hand. He met Phainon’s eyes with a helpless moan, mouth falling open, brows drawn together in desperation.
His whole body locked up around Phainon, walls fluttering wildly through the aftershocks.
They stayed like that, trembling and knotted together, until Mydei collapsed forward with a shuddering breath, forehead against Phainon’s shoulder, the small room thick with sweat and the smell of sex.
His breath hiccuped. His legs twitched and kicked uselessly. And Phainon was still buried inside him, holding him steady as he came down from his own high.
Carefully, Phainon shifted them, lowering Mydei down to the mattress. He pulled out slowly, and Mydei winced, overstimulated and slick, letting out a soft grunt as the emptiness caught up to him.
“...Sorry,” Phainon murmured immediately, brushing hair from Mydei’s damp forehead. “I got a little carried away.”
Mydei gave a tired exhale. Then, without lifting his head, he muttered into his neck, flat and hoarse: “Next time, I’m tying you up.”
Phainon shivered. He could already feel himself twitch again, cock still sensitive, body hot with tension.
“Yes, please.” He said, utterly sincere.
Mydei groaned. “Not now, you horny dog.”
“Okay,” Phainon relented, unable to help the grin tugging at his lips. “…But soon?”
Mydei didn’t answer. He just dragged Phainon into a deep embrace, boneless and spent.
In the mirror across from them, the red light blinked once. Twice. Then stopped, the battery finally giving out.
***
Bonus Scene
Nearly two months later, Phainon had somehow, miraculously, worn Mydei down. Utterly and Completely.
They were curled up in bed, half-dressed and flushed from something else entirely. The lights were low, the sheets tangled, but here they were.
Mydei’s laptop sat balanced on their thighs, and on the screen? Them. Naked. Going absolutely feral.
“Turn it off,” Mydei groaned behind his hands. “Turn it off, Phainon, I’m serious.”
“I haven’t even gotten to the part where you make eye contact with the camera.” Phainon objected, eyes wide. “You’re so hot, Mydei. You know that?”
“Stop talking. Please.”
“Nope!” Phainon chirped brightly, then gasped, pointing. “There! That part! The way you looked straight at the lens like you were daring someone to survive watching you ride me? I felt it in my soul.” He paused. “And my dick.”
“I will purge the footage.”
“You won’t,” Phainon said, smug. “Because deep down, you’re a little curious, too.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You were into it when you were—”
“Phainon.”
“I’m just saying,” he continued, tone far too proud, “now I fully understand what it’s like to watch someone you like be so—” he waved his hands wildly at the screen where Mydei was currently grinding down hard with a glazed, confident expression, “—insanely sexy on camera. Is this what I do to you? When you watch my performances?”
Mydei finally peeked between his fingers. “This is a far cry from your performances...”
Phainon placed a hand over his heart, wounded. “Wow. harsh.”
“I mean because it’s me, you idiot.”
“Oh. In that case,” he grinned, pausing the video, “we should do another one. You can tie me up like you said you would.”
Mydei gave him a withering look.
Phainon leaned in, unbothered. “I’ll even look into the camera for you.”
“You’re insufferable…” Mydei huffed, dragging a hand down his face.
But he didn’t move away. Didn’t push him off. Didn’t close the laptop. They just sat there, warm beside him on the bed they now shared, knees brushing, shoulders pressed, the soft weight of Phainon’s arm behind him.
Two months ago, Mydei was complaining about the unbearable heat in his apartment, groaning about broken fans and his shitty landlord.
Now? Now he was complaing about Phainon kicking off the covers in his sleep. About being elbowed in the ribs during dreams. About the snores that started the moment Phainon’s head hit the pillow and wouldn’t stop until morning.
Somehow, those half-formed fantasies and whispers into his pillow had slipped into reality.
The model on his screen, the idol perched on every billboard, had become the man curled beside him now.