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It’s not until the fourth time Phainon spills between them, clinging to Mydei with shaking limbs, that he manages to speak again.
“Mydei,” he gasps, and doesn’t that make Mydei pump his hips harder, faster, chasing the high of his name being the first word on Phainon’s lips in hours. Phainon arches up, moans high-pitched and trembling. Nails rake down Mydei’s back. The sting is gratifying in the best way. “Mydei, oh fuck—”
He likes that too, Phainon forgetting his manners. Phainon unraveling under him, oversensitive. Phainon allowing himself to just be a man lost in pleasure.
Coaxing Mydei to fuck him in the sun-gold wheat fields he loves so much, to take him apart under the new sky of Amphoreus.
“Mydei,” Phainon says again. His eyes are bright, pupils wide. Long lashes flutter as he peers up. The corners of his lips curve. A tremulous smile, as if he can’t believe Mydei is here, making love to him.
Tenderness and lust thrum through Mydei’s veins. His fists clench deeper into the makeshift bedding by Phainon’s head.
Phainon knows nothing of seduction. He doesn’t need it to arouse Mydei’s want for him. Batting his lashes, a pleased smile—it’s enough. It’s infuriating how it’s enough.
He doesn’t want it any other way.
Mydei knocks their foreheads together. Slows his hips into a gentle steady roll inside that wet, tight heat. It’s easy, with the spend from previous rounds slicking Mydei’s cock, even if some of it has slid out of Phainon’s hole to drip down his thighs.
“Too much?” he husks, smearing his lips across Phainon’s cheekbones. The deep blush that has settled there is warm to the touch. He breathes in, groans at the thick, heady scent of sex and sweat and Phainon, deflowered and debauched.
Phainon’s chest heaves. His thighs shiver from where they are spread wide around Mydei’s waist. His reply seems to catch in his throat, and he turns his head to the side as if suddenly shy.
Mydei sets his teeth to the sun, fucks up and in. Phainon cries out, hands flying to Mydei’s nape and heels kicking at the small of his back. “Don’t hide,” Mydei tells him, muffled by the salt-slick curve of Phainon’s neck. He sucks and bites and growls into tender skin until Phainon whines in overstimulation and finally turns back.
“Not hiding,” Phainon says, petulant.
“Then tell me.” Mydei releases his neck with one last nip and pushes up on his elbows.
His languid thrusts haven’t stopped, the rhythmic roll making Phainon’s face slacken beautifully. He won’t stop unless Phainon says so, until he is filled to the brim, fucked soft and sated in Mydei’s arms.
Phainon throws an arm over his eyes, letting out sweet little sighs and indecipherable murmurs. Even now, even like this, there is still that instinctive, residual hesitation to simply tell Mydei what he wants. It’s fine. They have time, and the way his body moves is its own form of communication.
Mydei’s gaze rakes down. Phainon’s pale skin is a mosaic of bite marks and fingerprints—his throat where Mydei had wrapped one hand while pounding into him from behind, almost too deep, while Phainon clung to their capes, cheek pressed to Mydei’s pauldron, mouth opened wide on a litany of yes yes more Mydei yes; the expanse of his chest, nipples swollen from Mydei’s hungry mouth and fingers; even the underside of his thighs, glistening with cum and sweat, slippery when Mydei leans back and hauls them over his elbows to fuck deep and slow, just how Phainon likes it when they’re facing each other.
“Gods,” Phainon gasps. He spreads his legs wider, toes curling in the air and cock bouncing against his belly.
It’s a wildly erotic sight, stoking the greedy, covetous thing in Mydei’s chest that latches onto any sign of Phainon’s satisfaction and clutches it for safekeeping. “It’s not—can we—” Phainon drags a hand down his face at a particularly deep thrust, words lost in a wanton, drawn-out moan.
Heat sears. Mydei bows over, shivering with sensation. Fuck, it feels too good, bringing Phainon pleasure. He can come again quickly, like this. Can spill inside Phainon and keep him warm and full and satisfied.
But there is something Phainon wants. There is nothing Mydei won’t give him. He just needs to know what.
Phainon huffs, slides his other hand from Mydei’s neck to above his heart. Loud, rapturous, the way it beats when Phainon splays his fingers over it. “You beast.” Fond, with no hint of shame or reproach. “Let me breathe.”
“Learn to multitask.” Mydei rolls his hips for emphasis. “But if you want me to stop, just say so.”
To his surprise, Phainon tosses his head back with a laugh. His walls clutch around Mydei. “That’s the thing,” he says as Mydei’s head spins at the wet vice caressing his cock. “I don’t want you to stop.” He must lose some confidence at the end because his voice tapers off, and he looks at Mydei as if expecting judgement.
They have made love for hours. The shimmering stardust of Era Nova had not even dissipated from their bodies when Mydei held out his hand, and Phainon took it with hope and disbelief warring on his face, letting Mydei pull him down into the wheat field and kiss all over his scars and touch where no one had been permitted before.
Does Phainon think Mydei wants to be anywhere else but here?
Does he believe Mydei would deny him anything even now?
“After all this time, you’re still so foolish.” He hikes Phainon’s legs over his shoulders, turns his head and sucks a fresh mark into the sensitive inside of his knee. “Does it feel like I’m going to stop anytime soon?” He deliberately sinks in hard, bottoming out with a wet smack.
“Ahh fuck—” Phainon’s muscles flex, body a livewire as Mydei claims more skin with tongue and teeth. “I only thought,” he whines when Mydei pulls his cock out, “you’ve already come twice—” his eyes roll back, breath punched out at the thick squelch of Mydei driving inside with a vicious vengeance.
Mydei almost cannot believe what he is hearing. Leave it to Phainon to think two orgasms will make the smallest dent in thirty million cycles of longing. Mydei could spill inside him for days and nights until his lower belly swells and it still won’t be enough.
If that is the impression Phainon has of his stamina or his motivation, then there is nothing else to do but correct it. Thoroughly, and irrevocably.
With a growl, he slides his arms around Phainon’s back and bends over until Phainon’s knees nearly touch the sides of his head. Draws his hips back—Phainon’s eyes flash open with realization—then pounds his way inside, splitting Phainon wide.
Phainon howls. Limbs flailing, body sliding up and down the ground at every precise thrust. “Mydei,” he sobs, fingers tangling in Mydei’s hair. “Slow down, you’re gonna—you’re gonna kill me.” Sweat drips down his face. His eyelashes are wet.
“So dramatic,” chuckles Mydei darkly. “I won’t kill you.” He loosens the leash on restraint and pistons his hips, drinks in the filthy sounds it pushes out of Phainon’s mouth and hole. “I’ll just make you come.”
Phainon crushes Mydei to his chest with a gasp. Mydei eagerly opens his mouth over the offered expanse of sinew and muscle, a growl rumbling in his chest at the sweet-salt taste.
He is sensitive around his nipples, they’ve learned. Mydei laves his tongue over one, lightly grazing the edge with his teeth, before hallowing his cheeks to make a firm hot seal over the nub and sucking.
Phainon keens, thrashing and clenching tight, nearly bouncing himself on Mydei’s lap. Mydei loves it, loves how he chases pleasure, indecent and lost in the way their bodies feel together.
Loves being the one for whom Phainon opens his heart and body with every perfect, vulgar thrust.
Love was long lost to the Kremnoan vernacular, but he has found the meaning of it in Phainon of Aedes Elysiae.
Mydei suckles on his nipple again and moves to the other breast, the taut skin turning pink and shiny as he licks over the nub with long, noisy strokes. If his hands weren’t full with keeping Phainon as close as possible, he’d spare one to squeeze the generous flesh underneath, and bounce it in his palm.
The alternative is just as good, though. He slides his hands down Phainon’s sides and grabs hold of his ass, massaging the muscles there, spread wide for his cock. His fingertips graze the imprints of his own teeth. Pride rears its head, and he lightly drags his nails over ample curves. Phainon tightens his walls around Mydei with an unexpected giggle.
Mydei pulls back with a raised brow.
Phainon smiles, eyes crinkling. Damp strands of white-gold hair plaster to his forehead. The apples of his cheeks glow. “Ticklish,” he says, grinding his ass into Mydei’s hands, before hastily adding, “I like it, feels nice.”
“Yeah?” Mydei almost doesn’t recognize his own voice with how deep and rough it’s gotten. Phainon is a feast to look at, flushed and loose-limbed and well-fucked. He looks happy, and Mydei could choke on the honey-thick sentiment that blooms in his chest and climbs up his throat. He ducks his head and kisses it into Phainon’s mouth instead.
Phainon sighs out something sweet, licking coquettishly at Mydei’s tongue. Mydei hums in approval. Phainon shudders beneath him, legs curling. He’s so beautifully responsive, and Mydei loves him, loves that he’s enjoying himself just as much as Mydei is, can feel his own cock thicken and twitch even when it’s tucked snug inside Phainon, pleasure simmering blood-hot under his skin.
“You feel so good,” spills out of Mydei before he can stop it, muffled against Phainon’s lips. His face burns when Phainon withdraws, panting. There’s a brilliant shine in his eyes.
That’s right—Phainon likes it, too, when Mydei talks. His second orgasm had only taken a few pumps of his cock and a "Let go for me, Phainon" exhaled into the shell of his ear before he spilled into Mydei’s waiting hand; had shaken with ecstasy after Mydei said "You taste good" while lapping at his sticky fingers.
He has little talent for erotic rhetoric, that sensual banter which makes the heart flutter and skin prickle without needing touch. Kremnoans have no need for it. Not when the best conversations are held through the exchange of bodies on the battlefield, in the bedroom.
But for Phainon, who listens so closely when Mydei speaks, he can try. Truth is never shameful, even if Mydei stumbles saying it during their bedsport.
“You fit around me so well,” he murmurs, slurring when Phainon gives a plaintive mewl and licks at his bottom lip. “So tight and wet, full of me—” he pumps in, needing Phainon to feel it, how greedy Mydei is for him, how the pulse of Phainon’s stretched rim around his cock is the rhythm Mydei chases with every jerk of his hips.
“Phainon,” he whispers into another kiss, then Khaslana, the flavor of each syllable spread over Phainon’s tongue, because a lover’s name is important, and Mydei needs him to know he craves him, will always crave him no matter what, because I know you and you’re mine until the end of time is not enough and neither is “I want you like this forever” but he says it anyway.
“Oh, Mydei,” Phainon moans, luxuriant and obscene. Mydei preens, knows he’s done well when Phainon kisses him so passionately his lungs strain for air. “Need more,” Phainon begs, sliding one hand down to where they’re connected. Clumsy fingers stroke at the base of Mydei’s cock, his heavy balls. “Need you to come inside me,” he slips it into Mydei’s mouth, hushed, like sharing a wish kept bottled up for so long.
Desire shatters through Mydei like lightning, like fire, and his hips are bucking forward desperately, feet slipping in the soil to drive into Phainon like an animal, and Phainon must be so sensitive, tender and wrung dry, but he clings to Mydei with loud cries and heels kicking wildly at Mydei’s weak spot, one hand yanking at his hair and the other fumbling at his rim and fuck oh fuck he’s spreading himself wider for Mydei, fingertips teasing inside his own hole and grazing the side of Mydei’s cock as it drags against his walls—it’s too much, far too much for any man, and his climax wracks him blinding and raw as he spills inside with a frenzied, fractured cry.
Phainon seizes beneath him, falls apart with hiccups and watery gasps, cock spurting hot all over their bellies as he frantically babbles, “thank you, Mydei, thank you love you—” and his voice is so shot that Mydei clumsily kisses him quiet, riding the aftershocks of his orgasm in the soft wet clutch of Phainon’s body.
The world turns hazy and muffled, layered in honey-sweet warmth. Senses suspended, body lax in bliss.
Soothing, comfortable heat around his spent cock. Lips on his forehead, gentle enough to make his eyes burn. Familiar hands in his hair untangle and stroke the damp strands; they cup the back of his head and guide him down until his cheek meets muscle.
A steady heartbeat thumps under his ear.
He counts each precious ba-bump ba-bump just as those familiar hands count down the vertebrae of his spine… eight, nine, ten.
Fingers interlace over the spot, protective, and Mydei knows this is the safest place he’ll ever be. He presses his face to where that precious heartbeat stays strong and loud. A soft inhale above him; he knows Phainon feels the same way.
He pushes himself up slowly. Every muscle twinges in protest. It was worth it. Always will be, for how Phainon looks at him with so much love and adoration.
Mydei cups his face. “Are you alright?” he rasps. “Does anything hurt?”
Phainon hums and undulates, stretching with a low groan. “No,” he affirms, then grins. “You almost made me pull a muscle, though.” His hand falls to his inner thigh, close to where they’re still intimately connected.
A tendril of heat licks up his spine, but Mydei sets it aside for now. “Let me check.” He doesn’t want Phainon to be in pain later, once the adrenaline has faded and the natural aches of lovemaking have settled in.
Phainon squirms. “Wait, I was kidding, you don’t have to.” He flushes under Mydei’s sharp look. “It’s—it’s messy down there.”
Mydei clicks his tongue. “Of all the things that embarrass you, it’s that? I had my tongue and cock inside you, my fingers in your mouth—”
“Mydeimos!” squawks Phainon, shoving with pitiful strength at Mydei’s shoulders. Mydei snickers. “Stop that, what’s gotten into you all of a sudden!”
Mydei could drown in it, the affection bubbling sweet and impatient at the back of his throat. He settles his weight over Phainon, kisses him again and again until his pout has melted into a stubborn half-smile.
“Be good for me a little longer,” he murmurs, basks in the way Phainon shivers at his voice. He presses down on Phainon’s lower belly, thumb rubbing circles. “Bear down.”
Phainon obeys, lips parting as Mydei slides out carefully and pushes his thighs up.
His leash on restraint suddenly pulls taut. Want roars to life in every vein, every pore. Fuck, where they were connected is a mess: Phainon’s hole rubbed pink and still slightly open, smeared with spend that dribbles out in thick, pearly lines down his ass. Something possessive and animalistic claws out of his ribcage, seeing what Phainon let Mydei do to him, with him, how he’s fucked him raw and full and dripping with Mydei’s seed mixing with Phainon’s cum and Mydei can smell it heady and salty and he wants-wants-wants—
“Mydei,” calls Phainon, trying to close his legs with a flush high on his cheeks, “why are you just staring?” He catches the look on Mydei’s face, the gnawing hunger that must be there. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Mydei agrees severely. Tries to get himself under control, nostrils flaring as his mouth waters. He clenches his jaw. “It’s fine, give me a moment—”
“No.” Phainon’s command makes him go still. Phainon meets his struck gaze, chin lifted in challenge. He beckons. Mydei is helpless but to come closer, to let Phainon reach up and wrap what remains of Mydei’s braid around his finger, rubbing the clasp with his thumb.
“Be—” Phainon lets out a stuttering breath, then tries again with more confidence—“Be good for me a little longer, Mydeimos.”
Mydei’s cheeks hurt from grinning too wide. “What makes you think I will?”
Phainon’s eyes flash. There it is, the spark and barely contained fire of obsession, of conviction, that Mydei loves so much, the devotion of an equal in softness and sex and the thrill of a good fight.
“You will,” says Phainon like a fervent promise, “because you love me, and I’m not hiding, and I don’t want you to stop.” His throat bobs, the cord of tendons flexing. Shame and shyness yielding to honesty. “I love you. So—please don’t stop, Mydei.”
“Good,” he can’t praise enough, memorizes how Phainon smiles brightly in delight, so eager to please and be pleased.
Beautiful, precious, vexing man. All Mydei’s, across thirty million and more cycles.
Just as he is Phainon’s, ever since the first recurrence that became the fulcrum of fate.
He's going to marry this man right and proper, when they are done here. Put a braid in his hair with a ruby on the clasp. Build them a home, somewhere close to the people they both love, and learn each other after millennia of waiting.
For now, it’s enough that Mydei gives him another kiss, far from the last, and loves him again and again and again.