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If you were to ask Mydeimos, she would be firmly against the idea of changing for other people.
It's not that she believes people can't better themselves, rather, she believes most qualities are innate, for better or worse.
Take her father: she both hates and loves him. He was a shit father when she was younger, and now he's trying to be better, which she is allowing because he's not being an ass about it— she wouldn't let her mother take him back if he was.
But that doesn't mean Mydeimos believes he's changed; no, she simply believes he's making different choices. Perhaps, in the past, her father did not have the capacity to make better decisions in regards to his role in their family, but he still made them, and now he has to live with them. He was not a ‘different person' back then, he is not now ‘a new man'. He is the same man, then and now, and Mydeimos is not going to separate the two in her mind just because he’s trying to show interest in her hobbies twenty years too late.
This way of thinking has bled into her own relationships, which has left some of her friends and partners confused. One of the Mydeimos’ most frequent descriptors is ‘stubborn’, which she does not disagree with. It has left her circle of friends rather exclusive, as the many people who attempt to engage with her soon learn that she rarely submits to genial social interactions and leave, frustrated, that she refuses to play the politeness game.
In reality, Mydeimos finds herself quite easy to get along with. She's easygoing, has a wide range of interests, and hates overcomplicating things. Her time can easily be earned with a no-nonsense conversation and a sweet treat, but she'll simply leave if her boundaries are overstepped, which they often are. She's attractive, rich, and confident, which earns her admirers and dissenters alike, all of whom think they know everything about her without ever talking to her.
Luckily, Nikador has blessed her with loyal friends that know her better than herself, sometimes, especially pesky Hephaestion, who has been there since elementary school to witness every one of Mydeimos’ fumbled relationships. It is only because of her that Mydeimos dares to rethink her creed on how people can change.
“You can't just expect everyone to keep up with you, Dei,” her best friend would say. “It's like everyone’s running at a normal pace, and you're an Olympian.”
The first time she heard this, Mydeimos had scoffed. “What does that say about you? You keep up with me. So do the others,” she says about their four other friends.
“We got kind of a head start,” Hephaestion would explain with a shrug. “And we… It’s like you made a cart for us and we all got in and… Uh, look, this is all too complicated to put in a metaphor. What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to change if you don't want to, you just have to slow down every once in a while. See what happens when you let someone new catch up every once in a while.”
And… look, Mydeimos isn't an idiot, okay? She knows she's intimidating to people and that they can be genuine, and politeness is just as much of an instinct as it is a tool. If she were a bit more soft, opened up a bit more easily, she would have a lot more friends.
Mydeimos just… doesn't want to.
Is it too much to look for people that like keeping up with her? So many expect her to change for their sake, to get down to their level, as if Mydeimos is some deity that needs to learn to be human. She’s not. She's already human, which means she's fully capable of being reached, even if it takes a bit more effort.
It would just be nice to meet someone who runs just as fast as she does, for once.
So no, Hephaestion didn't make her question her life choices because of some canned advice.
It had actually been something far more unwarranted, back when they were in college.
Mydeimos and her friends have all known each other since high school and later ended up around the same area for university, so the amount of time they spent together remained pretty much the same.
Another member of their group is Ptolemy. She's a year younger than Mydeimos and Hephaestion and is one of the most Type A people they've ever met. She makes Mydeimos look like Kephale’s perfect angel. Back in high school, she dressed like she’d crawled out of a library basement— thick glasses, formless oversized sweaters, and men's jeans with pockets so big that she could fit TI-84 calculators in them.
Then, in university, that all changed.
It had started small. First, she got LASIK. It was kind of weird, but the most Mydeimos had thought about it was that she forgot that Ptolemy’s eyes were that specific shade of green.
Next, Ptolemy actually started brushing her hair and her wild mop became a set of short and silky blonde waves. Still not that eventful to Mydeimos, but she did give a grunt of approval that her friend was finally taking care of herself.
And then, Ptolemy showed up in an actual shirt.
Not a sweater, not buttoned up flannel, but an actual sleeveless top cut so low it was dangerous.
This, Mydeimos had taken notice of for two reasons:
One, it became apparent that Ptolemy’s boobs were huge, and Mydeimos had seen Ptolemy’s chest before; they used to have gym together. Her friend must have gained two sizes since then— makes sense, she'd been unhealthily skinny then and was now properly eating. The new fat must have gone right to her chest.
How unfortunate. As someone who regularly worked out and had a pretty hefty chest herself, Mydeimos’ first emotion upon seeing them jiggle had been sympathy.
The second reason that moment had been significant was that Hephaestion had choked on her smoothie so hard that she nearly threw up— but she'll get to that later.
It was weird. Sure, people change their styles in college, sometimes drastically, but this was just unsettling. It was Ptolemy, who would spit curses at girls who showed too much leg and turned her nose at ‘wasting money’ on makeup and jewelry. Ptolemy, for all Mydeimos knew, never seemed to have had some sort of revelation on the benefits of taking care of her appearance, and she definitely wasn't any more interested in fashion beyond what would clothe her during the day.
But Ptolemy kept doing it. And even more oddly, she'd actually been improving with every attempt.
But why? Ptolemy never did anything without a reason, especially something that regularly cut into what she considered comfortable living.
Eventually, Mydeimos had turned to Leonnius, the only person perfectly fluent in Ptolemese, who responded to her very valid concerns by laughing in her face.
“Girl,” wheezed the person Mydeimos unfortunately called her friend, “do you not remember?”
“Obviously not,” Mydeimos growled out.
“Girl. Dude.” Leonnius grabbed Mydeimos’ shoulders as if to explain the meaning of life to her. “Phae loves big tits.”
…
…
“What.”
“Phae. Your best friend, our beloved Hephaestion. She turns braindead over a fat, bouncy pair of badonka-donkers,” Leonnius had continued, disgracing her entire family line. “Do you not notice her babbling and drooling whenever the hot history professor comes in with her top buttons undone? Or how she can't stop staring at some of the busty girls in bikinis when they use the gym jacuzzi? Her IQ drops to subway rat level. It’s fucking embarrassing.”
Mydeimos had wanted to defend Hephaestion, she really did, but the minute she'd opened her mouth, she realized. Yes. Hephaestion did babble over attractive women, it was just that Mydeimos had never realized what all those women had in common.
What the fuck, Hephaestion was a tits woman? Like, pathetically?
“She doesn't stare at my tits,” had been Mydeimos’ only argument.
“Well, yeah, because Phae loves her friends more than she loves boobs. It's super sweet; she's respectful like that. You and your sweet honkers have been sister-zoned, my gal. But don't worry, I still think they're hot.”
“Will you shut the fuck up,” Mydeimos hissed. “Are you telling me that Ptolemy is dressing up so Hephaestion can ogle her breasts?”
“Went full slut for it, too. Proud of that woman. She's all grown up” Leonnius had made a show of fake-sniffling. “Hephaestion is just too much of a gentlewoman to take the bait. My girl be putting her pussy out there with nothing to show for it.”
“I’m going to tear your tongue out of your throat.”
As much as Mydeimos regrets that entire conversation, it sticks with her.
These days, Ptolemy actually does have a personal interest in makeup and fashion. She did it for a girl’s attention; successfully, too. But Hephaestion loves her wife with or without her tits out, so there’s no longer a reason for Ptolemy to line her eyes or strap her heels on every time she wants to go out anymore. She just likes it.
Was her appreciation for her outward appearance just dormant this whole time, or did her personality, even just a small part of it, change for another person?
The thought is terrifying.
Not that there's a word for fear in the Kremnoan language.
…
No. That could never happen to Mydeimos; there are no ‘hidden aspects’ of herself that are waiting to be uncovered. She is already her true self, does not need to change, will not change, and no one, least of all a hot woman, can convince her otherwise.
Who the fuck.
Mydeimos hates surprises, but this doesn’t mean she can’t adapt to tough situations. She’s incredible at it, actually— it’s what makes her so good at her job.
But then Phainon of Okhema Incorporated walks into a meeting room with a skirt cut so high up her thighs that Mydeimos forgets what software is.
Soft… Soft wear…
No, wait. What in the actual River of Souls? The last time they met, Phainon was in a hideous hoodie and ratty pair of jeans. She didn’t wear jewelry, didn’t have any makeup aside from a smear of chapstick, and her fluffy hair looked as though she’d done nothing but splash a bit of water on it that morning to keep it from looking like she’d just rolled out of bed.
Mydeimos narrows her eyes. Is this what Phainon actually looks like when she’s formally meeting with collaborators? Why hasn’t she buttoned up her shirt? Why does it seem like she’s struggling to keep her skirt under he ass? How is her nape so pale? It’s unprofessional.
“Mydeiii…” calls her rival developer, her bright blue eyes curving like moons. “Heh, in a bad mood already, aren’t you? Where’s that Kremnoan pride? I can only assume you couldn’t think of anything good to bring to the table in what little time we had to prepare… don’t worry, I know such tight schedules can be a challenge to keep up with.”
That devious smirk of hers sends a blaze down to Mydeimos’ core, licking hot at a fire long since lit.
“Unlike some people, I don’t waste my time posturing uselessly when my work speaks for itself,” Mydeimos says, and shoves Phainon lightly in the shoulder when the other woman leans far too close. What on earth is that scent? Vanilla? “Sit down. You’re embarrassing your entire company.”
Phainon grins, unaffected. “As if I should take that seriously from someone who dresses like modern royalty every day.” Unbecomingly, she then bops Mydeimos on the head with her notebook, which Mydeimos takes because she’s not some idiot who overreacts to such childish provocations. “Besides, you’re gonna love this. I’ve got some new hires in front-end and UX that are gonna make this thing feel like Kephale’s gift to technology.”
Mydeimos scoffs. “Just front-end? It doesn’t matter how nice an application looks if it’s just covering up sloppy dev work.”
“And you can’t sell consumers revolutionary tech if they can’t use it.” Phainon winks. “Heh, looks like we’re gonna make something amazing together again. Come on, come on, let’s go.”
As if Mydeimos hadn’t told her to sit down just minutes earlier. Still, she allows Phainon to push her to their seats, right across from each other at the head of the table as usual, and they boot up their laptops and connect to their respective monitors.
This should be where Mydeimos locks in, but Phainon has angled her computer towards the front of the room with her arms spread over her chair, meaning Mydeimos still has complete visual access to her soft and creamy chest. Her breasts aren’t large, even on the smaller side, but when she flexes her shoulders and shifts her hips, the plump shape of them peeks out through her open collar like they’re begging for Mydei to follow their curve with her tongue.
Mydeimos pinches her thigh so hard and so often throughout that meeting that she ends up with bruises afterwards. Her panties started getting uncomfortable when she dared to think about Phainon’s nipples, and she sat in the bathroom for twenty minutes afterwards scrolling through cooking videos until she centered herself. Gods, how humiliating.
It’s not a one-time thing, either. Phainon continues to look like sex on legs every time they meet, whether it’s at Kremnos or Okhema, in the office or out.
If she’s wearing skirts, they’re tight, slitted, short. If she’s wearing pants, they’re so form-fitting around her ass that she might as well be wearing nothing. She can never seem to keep her blazers on, always taking them off the moment they sit down, wearing little necklaces that drip down to the golden ring that runs over her chest. And she seems to have learned how to put on eye shadow, sometimes blue, sometimes a white gold, curling around her fluttery eyes like fairy dust.
Every once in a while, Mydeimos glances down at Phainon’s hands.
Sometimes she wears nail polish, usually after hanging out with Castorice, but nothing more. Her nails never grow longer than what’s practical, yet are always well-maintained.
It could be because of her job— working at a keyboard all day doesn’t fare well for people who have long nails. Mydeimos stopped getting hers done sometime after college. She knows some girls only have two short, but Mydeimos has always found them inconvenient. They’re pretty— and Mydeimos does love pretty— but she likes… other things more.
And she rarely ever stops at two.
As she’s attempting to decode this phenomenon, it occurs to Mydeimos that this could be one of her rival’s many provocative schemes.
Phainon’s always coming up with new ways to egg Mydeimos on, whether though words or work or shameless physical contact. Mydeimos can’t deny that she enjoys it— this is the most fun she’s had in her job in ages— and she can tell Phainon loves it just as much, the way they push each other to be better.
So what is this? Is Phainon trying to test her in some way? Is she trying to distract Mydeimos or work her up? Maybe both?
Mydeimos should make a comment about it, but knowing Phainon, it might just make her double-down.
Or worse, she would stop.
Mydeimos would never admit it out loud, but it’s incredibly effective. She’s not so disrespectful as to call Phainon ‘eye-candy’ like some people at their companies who should get hit by a car or two, but she loves seeing Phainon doll herself up like Mydeimos is someone worth showing off for.
Unfortunately for Phainon, whatever her intentions are, it’s not going to get a rise out of Mydeimos anytime soon. Mydeimos simply ignores any and all little tugs at Phainon’s low collar or the way she sometimes props her knee against Mydei’s chair and presses the plush curve of her thigh right against Mydeimos’ arm. She’s a little devil, that’s for sure, but Mydeimos lives to fight devils, and she will not be deterred.
At the end of the day, Mydeimos just hates having personal matters get in the way of work, and she’s not going to ruin what she has with Phainon like that. Many people come and go, new jobs, new adventures, new opportunities, but Phainon…
Well, she would prefer it if Phainon stays right where she is, where Mydeimos can see her.
It’s a bit too possessive for someone she’s barely even friends with, but Mydeimos will keep that possessiveness to herself. Besides, Phainon likes her too much to be going anywhere anytime soon.
“So… I might be taking a break.”
Mydeimos freezes as she’s stuffing her lip gloss back into her purse.
That… had not been what she was expecting.
When Phainon had asked Mydeimos with bright red cheeks if she’d like to join her that weekend at the most expensive Xianzhounian restaurant in the city, Mydeimos had blacked out, agreed, and ordered a brand new pair of lingerie that evening, which she is currently wearing under her silk white dress.
Okay, fuck, listen. When she said she wouldn’t let personal matters get in the way of work, she meant that for herself. If Phainon wants to jump the gun and ask her out and then maybe stick her pretty pink tongue down Mydeimos’ throat and also her pussy, then that’s a different story. She likes to think she knows Phainon well enough to know she’s not the kind of woman who fucks and ducks— she’d take Mydeimos home and keep her there.
So Mydeimos had wanted to make it very, very clear to Phainon that she is 1000% into this. Her friends had been at her place helping her prep her hair and makeup and slapping her on the back with suggestive winks and encouraging, albeit unwarranted, pep talks. She’d even gotten cocky when Phainon had come to pick her up, to which her rival stumbled over the curb with her knees locked together while wheezing as if the sight of Mydeimos had stolen her entire air supply.
Then, at dinner, when Phainon had finally paused for a dramatic enough amount of time, playing with her gorgeous curls and biting on her candy-pink lip, Mydeimos knew it was time. She’d made some fake excuse to reapply her flavored lip product and smiled softly until Phainon could find the words.
Adorable, Mydeimos had thought, cheeks warm. And all mine—
What.
“What,” Mydeimos says.
“It’s… haha… I know, it’s embarrassing,” Phainon mutters meekly. She pokes at her fish with a somber expression, and Mydeimos suddenly feels like both a terrible person and a sex freak for misunderstanding this situation so badly. “I know I haven’t been my best lately. To be honest, I’ve been really burnt out. Not with Kremnos… Okay, a bit with Kremnos, but not with you! Never with you, Mydei. You know about the whole situation with Caenis, right?”
How could Mydeimos not? Phainon’s been showing up to every one of their meetups more downtrodden than the last, and whenever Mydeimos is able to pull a reason out of her, it’s constantly ‘Caenis, Caenis, Caenis’, hounding Aglaea’s, and by association, Phainon’s, team in an obvious takeover attempt by way of testing their willpower until they die.
Phainon has a lot of willpower, an insurmountable amount, but she’s still human and it tortures her. Mydeimos hates it. She wants to shove Phainon into one of her guest rooms— or better, her own room— and pamper her with food and kisses and lots of sex until she’s smiling from ear to ear again.
Or… wait, that sounds weird. Fuck—
“I mean, it’s not just her. For years I’ve been…” Phainon sighs, ashamed. “I get really consumed by work and… pleasing people. I’ve never been able to keep a relationship because of it. Almost all of my friends are work friends, and the only person I know outside of it is my childhood friend who lives all the way back in my hometown. You’re… um… I know it sounds pathetic, we’re not even technically friends, but you’re kind of the person I feel closest to, haha…”
It happens again. Mydeimos is struck by the sudden urge to whisk Phainon away to her Aidonian vacation home and wrap her up in thick blankets as they cuddle next to the fireplace.
I have a huge rack, she thinks without disdain for the first time in her life. You can use it as a pillow while I brush your hair and hand-serve you hot chocolate.
“...I feel the same,” is what she says instead, covering up her embarrassment with a mouthful of duck.
Phainon blinks up at her, and breaks out into a grin so wide it’s as if she can’t contain it. It's blinding.
Their feet knock together beneath the table as Phainon giggles with a dreamy expression, “You don’t know how much that means to me, Mydei.”
“So,” Mydeimos continues before she lunges over the table and kisses Phainon breathless, “what’s this about a break?”
“Oh! Yeah, that.” Phainon shakes herself out of her daze. “I’ve been talking to my therapist a lot recently, and she said I need something to break my routine and we talked about a couple ideas. I asked Aglaea, and she said I have enough PTO to cover a nice vacation, but she also said she would help me take an extended leave if I had the savings for it. You remember Stelle? We’ve been thinking about promoting her recently, and she would take over my projects while I’m gone. It’s the perfect opportunity to see how she’d do in a position with more responsibilities. You’ll love her, I promise. She’s a bit strange, but she’s great at what she does.”
Mydeimos bites back a growl at the thought of anyone replacing Phainon. She has a routine too, and Phainon’s part of it, maybe the best part of it. Unfortunately for Stelle, Mydeimos wouldn’t cope as well with the change as she usually would.
She’d never let it get in the way of her work, but talking to someone else about things she’d rather be talking to Phainon about… it makes her heart sink.
“You said a couple ideas,” Mydeimos says. “What else did you come up with?”
“You don’t like the idea of me taking a break?” Phainon tilts her head, then smirks. “Aw… Are you gonna miss me, Mydei?”
“Yes.” Mydeimos doesn’t even have it in herself to dodge the question. She’d never deny Phainon the time away she sorely needs, but she can’t shake the feeling that if Phainon does, she might not come back. “You think I wouldn’t?”
“I-I… um…” The low light of the restaurant lamps seems to make Phainon glow pink, looking down, then back up at Mydeimos, playing with the ribbons of her dress. “I just, uh, didn’t expect you to admit it… I’d miss you too, you know, if you left…”
“Shut up.” Mydeimos’ heart is thumping like a jackrabbit against her chest, and it’s driving her up the walls. “Answer the question.”
“It was just a couple! Most of them weren’t that great. We even discussed if I should try dating again, and I think that just made me more anxious.” What. “I guess the one that appealed to me the most was getting a roommate. I live alone in a two-bed right now, but that’s just because I have a good job and always thought I could convince Cyrene to come live with me. I think I’ve finally accepted that she's happy back in Aedes Elysiae, but I still get lonely easily, you know?”
Mydeimos does. It’s actually kind of concerning. Coming across Phainon by herself feels like coming across an abandoned puppy, begging for someone to take her home. More often than not, it’s Mydeimos who does, one, because she’s often looking for Phainon, and two, because Mydeimos won’t let anyone else do it.
This also means that Mydeimos knows that whoever is lucky enough to share Phainon’s apartment with her with have the queen’s cut of the woman’s time, affection, and attention. Phainon is warm and loving and values the people she’s close to.
But who knows? Maybe she’ll find some recluse hoarder who never leaves their room, or some girl with cash to burn that spends all her time at her partner’s place anyways and just needs a room to throw her things in.
“...dei?”
Or maybe Mydeimos will spend the next several months, years, hearing about Phainon’s new best friend who is the soulmate she never knew she had.
Maybe one day, Mydeimos will even get their wedding invitation. She’ll end up being Phainon’s bridesmaid instead of her bride.
Fuck. Fuck, she hates this—
“Mydei?”
Something warm and soft touches her hand, and Mydei jerks to attention.
Phainon leans in close, holding her hand with both of her own with a nervous expression on her face.
“Sorry, was that too much to ask?”
Mydeimos can feel Phainon tremble around her hand, and she flips her own over to squeeze back.
Huh?
Ask what?
“I know you’ve got a nice place right now you really like, and it’s so much bigger than mine, but…” …Wait. Wait. “Anyways, it was just a thought! I can just find—”
“Phainon, did you just ask me if I wanted to be your roommate?” Mydeimos asks quickly.
Phainon squirms awkwardly. “...Yeah?”
“When?”
“Huh?”
“When do you want me to move in?”
Phainon gapes at her, disbelieving.
“As… As soon as you want!” she sputters out. She lifts Mydeimos’ hand and cradles it like it’s precious. “Just so we’re clear, it’s not a big place. The AC breaks all the time, and my dog sheds like crazy. I know you love to wear black, but I’m willing to get so, so many air purifiers and lint rollers and vacuums and whatever you want, really! I’ll do all the grocery shopping, and I’ll take out the trash, and, actually, I’ll do everything. All you have to do is tolerate me and be your smart and pretty self and—”
“Stop.” Mydeimos squeezes her hand and shoots Phainon a look, which immediately shuts her up. “We’re going to be roommates, not master and slave. The point of all this is so you can feel less stressed, Phainon.”
“I mean, just having you around makes me feel so much better already…”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Mydeimos huffs. Her thumb strokes the back of Phainon’s hand in slow, soothing motions, drawing the nerves out of the woman before her. “You should take the vacation, too. If you get restless with the free time, you can focus on helping me move in, and we can get all the details of this arrangement sorted out then. Just focus on keeping yourself together. I’ll be there for whatever you need me for, alright?”
Phainon is staring at their joint hands. After a long moment, she looks up at Mydeimos, her sincere smile, and then looks away again.
When Myeimos looks closely, she starts to see tears welling on the tips of Phainon’s lashes.
“...Crybaby,” she mutters, and strokes Phainon’s palms and wrists and her new roommate chokes back a sob. “Shh, it’s okay. Look, you’re messing up your makeup.”
“‘S’not good anyways…” Phainon warbles, dabbing the wetness of her cheeks. “Not as good as yours… You look like a goddess, Mydei… I can’t believe I get to even touch you…”
Mydeimos takes a long, deep breath at that. She keeps herself from lifting Phainon’s hands and placing them against her cheeks, just so the other knows just how much of Mydeimos she’s allowed to touch. She always takes on so much, without asking for anything in return. If only she knew how much Mydeimos would give her if she just asked.
Well, she has time to figure it out, Mydeimos supposes. They’re going to be living together from now on, and Mydeimos is going to spend as much of that time as she can proving to Phainon what a good partner she is, how much she could have by having Mydeimos forever.
For now, it is enough to know that Mydeimos is the person closest to her. The first person Phainon thinks of when she needs someone by her side, and the person she feels close enough to turn to when she needs someone to hold her. All Mydeimos needs to do is treasure her.
Ha, as if she isn’t doing that already.
Moving in with Phainon happens far too easily.
It’s not that it’s without its friction, as most new roommates have. Figuring out their chores is a bit turbulent as they have different standards for cleanliness and organization, but as they get into the rhythm of things, it starts to fall into place. It helps that both of them are used to not only arguing, but resolving their problems in a productive and efficient manner.
The most frustrating thing is that Phainon is far too eager to please. She seems desperate to make Mydeimos stay, even though Mydeimos, in her own mind, has never shown a sign of wanting to leave.
It occurs to her that Phainon is far more insecure than she makes herself out to be, and it comes to no surprise when she becomes acquainted with the sight of her roommate’s antidepressants in the medicine cabinet. Phainon never seems eager to talk about it, and Mydeimos doesn't ask.
Still, she refuses to let Phainon sacrifice her own needs for what she perceives to be Mydeimos’ comfort.
“I’m going shopping,” Mydeimos announces one day as Phainon studies her antiques in the living room. “What do you want?”
“I’m okay!” Phainon calls back as she always does, putting a tic in Mydei’s brow. “Just get whatever you need. I don’t eat much anyways.”
Mydeimos looms over her, staring down at Phainon with what is now a familiar silence. Phainon, knowing she’s done something wrong, squirms in place.
“Try again,” says Mydeimos.
“...I’m really fine, Mydei. I have noodles in the—”
“Phainon,” Mydeimos growls.
“...Apples…?”
“Are you a horse? You’re not eating just apples for the next week.” Mydeimos sighs and rechecks her shopping list. “The lack of protein in your diet is insane. I’ll be in charge of the cooking this week, but you have to wash and put away all the dishes. I hope you like eggplants.”
“Huh? Wait, Mydei, you can’t do all the cooking.”
“Of course I can, I’m not an infant. And what did I just say? This isn’t a service, it’s an exchange. Are you incapable of washing dishes for a week?”
“No! No, I…” Phainon looks up at Mydeimos standing over her, her eyes are round and her hands on her knees like she’s kneeling before a queen. She licks her lips, and her gaze drops when Mydeimos props her fist on her hip. “...I’ll… I’ll come with you, then! I’ll carry all the groceries and push the cart!”
Like a good wife, Mydeimos thinks. She flips her hair over her shoulder with a hmph to cover up her burning ears. “If that’s the case, hurry up and put your shoes on. I’ll leave you behind if I have to.”
Phainon scrambles to her feet so fast that she tumbles over the couch on her way to the shoe closet. She’s still in her pajama bottoms and bright-blue chimera t-shirt, but Mydeimos is fine with that. It feels domestic, walking around with Phainon through the store so casually. Perhaps she can even link their arms together; to make sure Phainon doesn’t wander off, of course.
Like this, Mydeimos uses Phainon’s obedient nature to her advantage, slowly training her roommate out of her self-destructive habits like the good pup she is. The trick is a firm voice, a gentle hand, and lots and lots of praise.
…Sometimes, Mydeimos notices that Phainon’s eyes get a bit hazy when Mydeimos calls her a good girl.
When Phainon does something well, she’ll often shuffle in front of Mydeimos with her head hung down as if she wants to be petted, which Mydeimos will fulfill if she’s satisfied with her. It’s… not something Mydeimos would usually indulge people in, but Phainon’s smiles and giggles of delight make it feel like a reward for Mydeimos as well.
It’s a good life. Perfect, even. Mydeimos finds herself smiling more often, being less curt at work. Even her parents have started noticing. Her mother snickers and says Mydeimos has found a ‘good one’ to take care of, while her father stares at her with that pleading puppy-dog look as if he wants to say something in encouragement but is afraid of fucking it up.
She supposes they’re mostly excited because Mydeimos, finally, seems as though she’s ready to settle down. She is, actually, with one particular person. She’s practically already done it.
Except she’s stuck in a platonic trench.
And sometimes, Mydeimos wakes up to her alarm with her core throbbing with want, images of Phainon whimpering and begging still hot behind her eyelids. Later, she’ll cuddle up with Phainon on the couch after a long day, her arm somehow having draped over Phainon’s hip, and will wonder for far too long what would happen if she dipped her fingers beneath that cotton waistband and down those wet lips.
Most of all, she’ll simply look up at Phainon: a little bit taller, her bottom lip just as high as Mydei’s upper one, and hold back on tugging her down so they can meet in the middle.
No, she thinks to herself. This is for her. This is all for her.
And she pinches that round cheek once more, huffing with a combative word on her tongue and a flutter in her chest.
About a month into their cohabitation, Mydeimos comes face to face with the sunflower-print of Phainon’s ass.
“Oh, gods, Mydei!” Phainon scrambles to her feet, the kitchen lights revealing that not only does not have pants, but is in the middle of undoing her shirt. “I’m so, so sorry— ah!”
Mydeimos has to look away, but Phainon just keeps moving. She fails miserably at covering up her panties, and her collar slips off her shoulders, along with her bra straps. It’s such a fragile thing that the cups wilt and her breasts roll out to reveal her pink nipples.
Not just brown-pink, Mydeimos realizes. Pink-pink. Pomegranate juice with milk pink.
Eventually, some semblance of order returns as Mydeimos convinces Phainon to get her sleepwear. For her to forget Mydeimos was even here had been… concerning. She must be exhausted.
Mydeimos moves on autopilot as she makes Phainon a sandwich and spends way too long staring down at the packet of ham. It's good ham. Good food is worth the money.
It's the same pink as Phainon's nipples.
Slowly, Mydeimos sneaks a bite.
She sucks on it. Nips it. And chews. Chews… chews…
And yelps when something nudges her thigh.
“Fuck!” Mydeimos swerves around, and then down, and is met with those empty little samoyed eyes that seem to stare at nothing and everything all at once. “No. No ham. I know your mother feeds you behind my back.”
Snowy whines and nudges her leg again. Her expression is pitiful, but it's also so… pointed. Accusing.
“...You keep this between us,” Mydeimos eventually mutters, and tosses a bribe to the floor so that Snowy can slobber it up.
As she lies in bed that night, Mydeimos stares at the ceiling and deals with the fact that she now knows what Phainon’s nipples look like.
There are boundaries that should not be crossed when trying to maintain order. People are insatiable; once they have a taste, they will forever want more. Mydeimos, despite her better efforts, is no different.
When she closes her eyes, her mind drifts, half-asleep, to her restless thoughts. For a moment, she can see Phainon on top of her, topless, pressing her smaller breasts against Mydeimos’ and shooting Mydeimos that smirk that drives her mad. Their hips are slotted together, her breasts the perfect size for Mydeimos to hold in each hand, her nipples soft and pink and ready for Mydeimos to taste.
When she snaps out of her daze in a sweaty panic, it's three in the morning.
That… That one was much more vivid than the last ones.
No… Oh, no, it’s getting worse.
Guiltily, she glances at the door where Phainon dozes peacefully across the hall and curses under her breath for not being able to control herself. What is she, an animal?
She needs to get her shit together. She can’t simply ignore it anymore; she needs to actively recalibrate herself. Find a new hobby, focus on a new project. Something, anything, to keep her thoughts away from what it might be like to sink her teeth into Phainon’s plump and perfect ass.
She needs to… not get herself off to this like she desperately wants to.
With a deep breath, Mydeimos flops back into bed with a militaristic rigidity and recites Kremnoan poetry to herself until she, somehow, falls back asleep.
Mydeimos loves a good challenge. Craves it, actually.
But this is not one she has ever wanted to face.
One night, it’s Mydeimos’ turn to work overtime. It seems as though Nikador heard her wish for extra work and decided to grant it in a fit of either love or sadism. Know them, probably both.
With a sigh, Mydeimos walks into their apartment and kicks her heels off without even putting them away like she usually does. She knows Phainon, the early riser she is, will most likely see them in the morning and tease Mydeimos about it for the rest of the day, but Mydeimos is willing to take that for now.
She starts undoing her jewelry on the way to the kitchen and sets them aside with a clatter before digging out some salad to eat. Phainon made it when she got home— texted Mydeimos that she made a special serving just for her— and, well, what can Mydeimos say? Phainon makes a good salad.
She checks the time. Nine. Phainon should still be up, reading or playing video games or watching something on her laptop. The newest episode of Flamechase came out a few hours ago, but they only watch that together. With Mydeimos working late today, they rescheduled their watch session to tomorrow.
Mydeimos usually associates watching anything, television or movies, as a social activity. She does enjoy it, but only if her friends are around. It feels like a waste of time on her own.
With Phainon… Mydeimos wouldn’t use the word ‘social’ to describe it. That makes it feel like it would be the same with anyone else.
It’s more like…
Mydeimos shakes her head. Dangerous thoughts. She’ll pop in to Phainon’s room, take a look at her roommate’s face to center herself, and head for bed so she’ll be healthier tomorrow.
Except she doesn’t find Phainon in her room.
Confused, Mydeimos checks her own room as well. Phainon will sometimes mistake their bedrooms when she’s drunk or tired, and lately she’s even been hanging out on Mydeimos’ bed because Mydeimos said she could when Phainon would whine about missing her during Mydeimos' nights out.
It’s when Mydeimos walks into the living room that she stops dead in her tracks. Painfully, she takes a sharp breath.
Another one of Phainon’s habits is taking off her clothes after a long day of work. Ever since Mydeimos first caught her, she’s been trying to rid herself of the instinct, but Mydeimos has never tried to discourage her from it. She knows it’s what makes Phainon comfortable, and it’s not like Mydeimos herself sees nudity as some sort of cardinal sin.
But then, there’s moments like these. When Phainon has obviously been waiting all evening for Mydeimos to get back, and, in her growing sleepiness, has taken off her pants to make herself comfortable on the couch. A blanket, once covering her lower half, lays kicked-away on the floor next to her, her long legs spread out and inviting Mydeimos to crawl between them. Her panties are a comfortable pair with thin blue stripes and little blue ribbon beneath her belly button.
Even worse, her shirt has hiked up her stomach, so far that it reveals the smooth underside of one of her breasts. A little ring of pink peeks out from the fabric, filling Mydeimos’ stomach with a tight and aching want.
Mydeimos, in her daze, steps back and bumps against one of the hall tables. Phainon’s white lashes flutter against her cheeks, her lips parting with a sleepy groan. Mydeimos is frozen in place, unable to move from the divine sight, counting the seconds until Phainon blinks her gem-blue eyes awake and spots her in horror.
But she doesn’t. She shifts instead. Her knees draw together and her arms curl into her stomach, thankfully in a position far less likely to send Mydei into a mental tailspin.
With a sigh, Mydeimos rubs her temples and wills her head to stop throbbing.
How pathetic. Caught off-guard by the sight of Phainon’s half-naked boob and clothed pussy. She should be better than this.
What Mydeimos should do is leave Phainon to her own devices and simply let her be after draping the blanket back over her. A sore back and some cushion-creases never killed anyone, and it would teach Phainon the importance of going to bed properly.
What Mydeimos does instead is kneel down and slip her arms beneath the sleeping woman, lifting her with ease and tucking her into her chest so she can take Phainon back to her room. Phainon’s room, that is. Because Mydeimos treats her friends right.
Friends, she says, as Phainon instinctively snuggles head head into the crook of Mydeimos’s neck and mutters, “...dei…”
And another, “My… dei…”
For some reason, it doesn’t sound like the ‘My’ of Mydeimos’ name. It sound like ‘My’, as in Phainon’s possession.
And Mydeimos, who has vowed to never be owned by anyone or anything, finds that she does not mind it in the slightest.
When you decide that you belong to someone, things become… a little different.
At one point, she and Phainon run into each other in the gym showers and Phainon gets a massive eyeful of Mydeimos’ naked breasts. When she tries to get Phainon off of her, her knee makes contact with what had to be Phainon’s wet and warm clothed cunt. It could have been from the shower. It could have been her slick. Phainon calls Mydeimos’ breasts beautiful, and then they stop talking about it altogether.
Mydeimos has never been shy about her breasts. All of her friends have seen them at some point. Even in school, she wasn't averse to changing her bras around her classmates in the locker rooms. She’d definitely catch eyes, some of admiration, some of envy, some with thinly-veiled attraction. Honestly, they’re only useful when Mydeimos wants attention, which she rarely does.
But with Phainon, Mydeimos finds that she savors every glance. She wants Phainon to look at her all the time, even if she’s being annoying about it. She often has to shoo her roommate away for being a distraction, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy Phainon's persistence. In fact, she makes subtle changes to her habits and appearances to make Phainon’s eyes remain on her and no one else. She does her hair up more often, plays with her makeup and jewelry, even finds herself more tactile around the woman, touching her hips and back and arms and thighs in light, innocent ways.
It’s strange. She’s always been a solitary creature. She’d even figured she’d end up single for life, not for a lack of wanting, but with how difficult she finds it to be vulnerable.
Not only that, but she wants to go out more. She usually only liked going out to new places if they were with her friends or if she found a new cafe that looked good.
With Phainon, she finds herself attracted to every little opportunity to spend more time with her. Have new experiences with her. Mydeimos brings her to the beach, even though she doesn’t like swimming. She takes Phainon to the park and finds places for them to hike and play sports. On the Sundays, they have a ritual of having dinner out, taking turns choosing new places, and Mydeimos treasures every little minute of it, even if the food sucks.
Mydeimos doesn’t go as far as to walk around topless in front of Phainon, but she does go braless a little more. She likes to watch the slow dip of Phainon’s eyes as they drop to her free breasts, squishing up into the low collar of Mydeimos’ tight shirts, Phainon’s tongue peeking out of her lips as she stares, as if she’s aching for a taste.
Mydeimos has never felt like this. Feeling so… sexy in front of someone and feeling good about it. She feels so appreciated, desired, and respected all at the same time. It feels good waking up every day, and feels good to come home every night. Every little corner of her life with Phainon feels so full.
If only she could stop having sex dreams about her roommate every godsdamned night.
Something has gone terribly wrong. Mydeimos doesn’t know what it is, but it has.
Phainon has to be doing this on purpose. Never in her life has Mydeimos come to witness so many nip slips, so many panty-flashes, and so many moments of accidental tit-grabbing with one person. It’s logistically impossible. How weird would that be if it was with Hephaestion, or her secretary, or, by the gods, Krateros?
Mydeimos’ only conclusion is that she is a lustful freak who subconsciously preys on Phainon’s every little slipup like an opportunistic pervert. It’s not like she’s never seen Hephaestion’s panties, it’s just that the sight of Hephaestion’s panties don’t make her stop in her tracks and stare and then send her to sleep with dreams that would make Mnestia cry.
Phainon, though. Mydeimos still remembers the feeling of Phainon’s breast beneath her palm. The way it squished with every little flex of her fingers. That pink nipple pressed against her skin. She remembers how she could fit the whole thing into her hand. The way Phainon had flinched and moaned and looked up at Mydeimos with hooded eyes, a hot flush of red crawling down her chest.
Or maybe Phainon reacted like a normal fucking person who gets her naked breast groped in public, and the rest of the memory has been conjured up by Mydeimos’ dreams.
Mydeimos is fine. Unlike some people, she does not allow herself to submit to pitiful excuses like ‘losing control’ and ‘being tempted’. She knows it’s not simple. It takes willpower, discipline, and active effort to resist the things you desire most, all of which Mydeimos has spent years honing to a perfect T.
But then…
But then.
One night, Mydeimos’ dream becomes a bit too lucid.
As she turns in bed, she suddenly becomes aware that, oh, I’m having another sex dream right now. Great.
She’s disappointed in herself, as always, but just as always, is entranced by the beautiful curve and swell of Phainon’s body. She’s completely naked, her legs wrapped around one of Mydeimos’ with her head pillowed on Mydeimos’ plush chest. Mydeimos inhales sharply when Phainon squirms and kisses her pussy against Mydeimos’ thigh.
Mydeimos knows she shouldn’t indulge, but this is a dream, and her self-control never seems to come in dreams.
She turns slowly as to not wake her sleeping companion, and Phainon sighs as she makes herself more comfortable between Mydeimos’ clothed breasts. Mydeimos is wearing some light shorts, but no underwear, and can feel every crease and twitch of Phainon’s thigh between her own through the fabric.
And Mydeimos… Mydeimos is tired, and she wants. She wants so, so terribly that it hurts.
So, burying her face into the soft fluff of Phainon’s hair, she reaches up and runs her hands down that lovely body.
Oh, she’s so warm. Mydeimos already knew this. Phainon’s favorite place is right by Mydeimos’ side, and Mydeimos, Phainon's. But to able to feel how soft Phainon’s skin is beneath those layers, to dip her fingers into the little dimples and divots of Phainon’s perfect, round hips, what more could Mydeimos ask for?
With a daring wave of want, Mydeimos reaches back and cups Phainon’s ass. She sighs into Phainon’s hair, and Phainon presses back into the touch, groaning softly in her sleep. Mydeimos could touch her like this all day if she wanted to, and yes, yes, she wants to. She plays with the swell of Phainon’s butt, squishes her fingers into the crease of where it meets her thighs, massages it until she has Phainon mewling beneath her breath.
Following the flow of desire, Mydeimos eases Phainon’s thigh over her hip. She kisses Phainon’s hair, then her forehead, then her cheek, before burying her face into Phainon’s naked shoulder and allowing her hands to dip into that warm, wet heat.
The moment she starts to sink a digit into Phainon’s cunt, a moan so loud and lewd tumbles out of Phainon’s throat that it snaps Mydeimos awake.
No.
No, wait, she’s already awake.
Mydeimos stills. She almost jumps out of bed, but then she’d wake Phainon.
With trembling hands, the tips still covered in slick, she eases her arms off of Phainon. Unwraps Phainon from her body. Covers her with the blankets. Climbs out of bed.
In the bathroom, her pussy throbbing and twitching, she stares down at the slick on her hands like they’re covered in the blood of her enemies.
Involuntarily… No, with a fractured loss of self-control, Mydeimos starts to lift them to her tongue.
No… No! Mydei smacks her hands against the sink.
She would never be able to come back from this. There’s… whatever that was, and then there’s this.
Mydeimos, in a fit of desperation, slams her knee so hard into the bathroom cabinet that it’s going to cause her to limp for the next couple days, and then drags herself into the shower on one working leg.
Unfortunately, she can only do so much. After washing Phainon’s essence off her hands, she finds that there is nothing she can do to wash the memories of her actions away. With a whimper leaving her throat, she reaches down and works the tension out by force.
The next morning, Mydeimos takes a rare sick day. The second she has a free moment, she picks up her phone and calls the first person on her contacts list.
After a couple rings, she gets a, “Dei? What’s wrong?”
As soon as Mydeimos opens her mouth, everything she wanted to say jams in her throat.
Because confessing you’ve been having dreams about fucking your roommate, who you are madly in love with, for months now is not really something to discuss over the phone.
How much detail does she even go into?
For some reason, Mydeimos needs to let out how good it felt when she could feel herself bouncing on dream-Phainon’s strap with the snowy-blue harness and ribbon-y white bralette that made her look like an angel. She wants to explain how crazy it made her feel when she dreamed of shoving Phainon over a table in an empty conference room and tearing her stockings off with her teeth. Oh, fuck, does she really have to explain the dream where Phainon had the fluffy white puppy ears and wagging tail and begged, naked and panting, to lap at Mydeimos’ aching cunt?
And then there was last night. She’d made Phainon pancakes this morning as some sort of fucked-up apology. Phainon had looked at her as though Mydeimos were the greatest thing in the world and it made her feel like shit.
Is this how the almighty Mydeimos, Crown Princess of Kremnos Tech, admits defeat? From what?
The fact that Phainon’s bedhead is so fluffy that Mydeimos wants to press her face into it and breathe her in every morning? How Phainon’s casual clothes look like a rainbow vomited on a sports’ store and the only reason she looks halfway professional is because her boss tells her what to buy? How Phainon knows how to make fifty different kinds of salads because she grew up on a farm but doesn’t know how to fry an egg properly?
The fact that Mydeimos knows all of this and can’t shove Phainon against the floor, table, countertop, bed, fridge, cabinet, backseat of her car, because she’s afraid she’s going to ruin everything they have?
Mydeimos fucked up. She’s in too deep. She’s entered the inescapable torture chamber of self-flaggelation and unkissable angels.
She’s trying. Some wicked, hopeful part of her is waiting for Phainon to ask her out, but Mydeimos is starting to think that maybe… maybe she’s just ugly?
No, Phainon finds her attractive. Her favorite nicknames for Mydeimos are ‘cutie’ and ‘gorgeous’. She is not shy about how much she loves Mydeimos, hanging over her rival at every given opportunity and singing her praises to anyone within shouting distance. It’s obvious to everyone who has seen them together for two seconds. Phainon adores her.
Suddenly, a memory hits her like a bus at full-speed.
“Phae loves her friends more than she loves boobs. It's super sweet; she's respectful like that.
You and your sweet honkers have been sister-zoned, my gal.”
No.
No, no, no, no, no!!
NO!!!!
“I am human garbage,” she eventually says to her best friend.
On the other side of the phone, Hephaestion sighs and says, “Just come over,” then hangs up.
That evening, Mydeimos makes about three trays of cookies— chocolate chip, ginger, and snickerdoodle— and is in the middle of packing them into neat little containers when Phainon comes home early and catches her.
Technically, Phainon is home right on time, but that’s just how bad her overtime has gotten. That’s another unfortunate part of this arrangement, sadly; after Phainon’s well-needed vacation, Mydeimos cannot just swoop in and save Phainon from Okhema’s toxic office politics. All she can do is be Amphoreus’ perfect housewife and place a secret kiss on Phainon’s packed lunches to make herself feel like she’s giving more affection than she’s actually capable of.
If she’s being honest… it’s not bad, being a housewife. Aside from a few hiccups, work has been stable at Kremnos, especially thanks to her father finally getting his shit together, and she’s actually left with more free time than she knows what to do with. She spends most of this time making their apartment Phainon’s heaven on earth, with home-cooked meals, a clean living space, lots of attention and warm cuddles whenever her overworked rival needs it.
No, they’re friends now. She wouldn’t say best friends, that’s Hephaestion for Mydeimos and Cyrene for Phainon, but even despite that, calling Phainon her ‘best friend’ sounds… inadequate.
Case in point: Mydeimos shouldn’t feel like an unfaithful wife when Phainon walks in on her preparing to leave that evening.
“Oh, Mydei… it smells soooo good,” Phainon giggles as she wobbles over. Mydeimos catches her around the waist when her roommate stumbles into her side, exhausted, and sighs against Mydeimos’ ear. “Have I ever told you that you make my life perfect?”
“All the time,” Mydeimos grumbles, because Phainon does. And Mydeimos blushes a little warmer every time. She takes a ginger cookie lifts it up to feed to Phainon, which her roommate nibbles on happily. “Bite, idiot. You’re not a rabbit.”
“I wanna savor it…” Phainon pleads, but takes a big bite anyways, obviously hungry. “Sh’orry, mmgh, I’m really tired… Even chewing feels like a chore…”
“Dramatic,” Mydeimos says, and shoves the rest of the cookie into her mouth. Phainon stumbles as she struggles not to choke on it, not that helps Mydeimos’ out of control libido in the slightest. “It’s because your head is full of useless things right now. Focus on the sugar and forget everything else.”
“Mmmh, you’re sh’o smarth,” Phainon says cheerily around her food. To which Mydei replies with a half-hearted ‘Don’t chew with your mouth open’ as she continues to pack. After a cookie-filled silence, Phainon eventually blinks back into existence and asks, “Hey, if I’m a good girl and eat a full meal, can we watch a movie tonight?”
Mydeimos pauses, and then turns to meet Phainon’s pleading puppy-dog eyes. She’s so close that their noses nearly bump into one another. Mydeimos can smell the sweetness of ginger on her breath, and her mouth fills with a wet want.
I nearly put my hands in your cunt last night.
Guilt snaps her out of her daze like a lightning bolt.
“You…” Mydeimos takes a breath. “You should be eating a full meal regardless,” she scolds, pinching Phainon’s round cheek as the other whines. “And I can’t tonight, I’m meeting with the girls.”
Phainon’s expression drops.
“Oh, ah… So that’s why you were baking! That makes sense.” Slowly, terribly, she pulls away. “That’s fine, then, maybe another time, when I can have you all to myself.”
Mydeimos swears that this woman has no idea what comes out of her mouth most days. Who just says things like that? In a separate scenario, Mydeimos would drag Phainon in and give her an apologetic kiss and say that Phainon shouldn’t push her luck, Mydeimos is hers anyways, and relish in the sight of those pretty pink cheeks that Mydeimos wants to sink her teeth into.
But this is now, so Mydeimos just huffs and says, “There’s leftovers in the fridge,” with a pointed look. “I’ll be checking to see if you ate them when I get home.”
“Ahh… but what if I get takeout?”
Mydeimos narrows her eyes. “You won’t.”
“Won't I?” Phainon teases.
“You won't.”
“...I won’t.”
“Good girl.” Mydeimos pats Phainon’s hip, to which the woman makes an odd sound, and takes her cookies and jacket so she can finally leave. Phainon’s eyes follow her with that familiar abandoned puppy expression that nearly breaks Mydeimos’ resolve. “I already fed Snowy and walked her, but if you’re bored, I’m sure she won’t mind another.”
“Thank you,” Phainon says, rocking on her heels. “Come back soon.”
I’ll miss you, isn’t said, but is heard loud and clear.
On the drive over, Mydeimos contemplates her own cowardice.
Phainon is almost never home this early; it’s practically a gift. Normally, Mydeimos would have just cancelled her plans without even telling Phainon she had any just to spend time with her, but Hephaestion called everyone and they’ve made a whole thing out of it, and the cookies are best when they’re fresh and…
…and, honestly, she is at the end of her rope. If Phainon spent two more seconds looking at Mydeimos like that, like Mydeimos is all she’s ever wanted in life and thanks the Sky Father every day that Mydeimos exists, Mydeimos would have dropped to her knees and shoved her face beneath Phainon’s skirt.
She can imagine her entire Kremnoan lineage looking down at her and sneering with contempt. She doesn’t blame them. She hates herself too.
“Why did you invite everyone to my pity party,” Mydeimos hisses at Hephaestion as soon as she corners her best friend on the porch.
“Because you need all the help you can get!” Hephaestion hisses back, hands on her hips. “I’ll be honest, Dei, I’ve been watching this song and dance for so long and I feel like I’m out of advice.”
“You’re married!” Mydeimos says, aghast. “How can you be out of advice? You succeeded!”
Hephaestion grabs Mydeimos by the collar and drags her in dangerously close, dead serious. “Mydeimos, have you seen her? Do I look like I have any idea how I landed that?”
“A woman with the personality of a sewer rat?”
“She’s a very good rat underneath all the sewage,” Hephaestion says. Mydeimos rolls her eyes. “The point is, I really don’t know how much more I can tell you, and I really don’t know how I got Ptolemy to like me enough to marry me. Do you?”
Mydeimos does, actually; Hephaestion is just, as the some people would call it, a catch. Really, Ptolemy always acts like she’s the one who landed Hephaestion, and her strategy for that had been to bounce her tits and beg. Mydeimos is not doing that, no matter how bouncy her tits are.
Or…
No… Wait, that’s exactly what she’s been doing.
Oh, gods, Mydeimos isn’t just an animal. She’s pathetic.
A smack on the head snaps Mydeimos out of her thoughts. “Get it together. Once Tols comes back from walking the horses, we’re going to eat and talk about how you can wife your roommate up. This is a very serious matter.”
Mydeimos doesn’t argue. She helps set all the food out and about an hour later, is in council with the five women who know her better than anyone else.
A picture of Phainon sits open on Hephaestion’s laptop in the middle of the table. This is apparently to remind Mydeimos to keep her eyes on the prize. It’s very effective. Mydeimos hates it. She loves it. Phainon is gorgeous.
“...This is a sad state of affairs,” Perdikkas opens with.
“I never thought it would be you who had to deal with this,” Leonnius admits, waving between Mydeimos and the picture of Phainon. “You’re always so confident and in control. Figured you’d just see someone you like and snag them with consent on the spot. ‘We will marry on the new moon.’ ‘Yes, my Queen!’”
“Boom. Babies,” Peucesta says with a weird fist-explosion motion.
“This is delicious, darling,” Ptolemy says over a warm bowl of Hephaestion’s stew. Hephaestion beams.
“Can I diagnose you, Dei?” Perdikkas asks.
“Whatever,” says Mydeimos.
“You’re dumb as fuck.”
“If you throw that, I’ll eat it off the floor,” Peucesta warns, which actually does make Mydeimos lower the cookie. Peucesta takes it out of her hand and shoves it in her face.
“No, I’m serious,” Perdikkas says, aghast as she, too, feasts on cookies Mydeimos made. “Look, I get the whole ‘I don’t want to ruin our relationship’ thing, it’s a pretty dangerous move to confess your undying, sexual love for your roommate, but the fact that you’ve let it get this far at all is astounding. What happened to you? You’ve always had it together, and now you’re just…” Perdikkas waves her crumb-covered hands. “...a mess.”
Mydeimos scowls. She hates how Perdikkas puts it, like Mydeimos is some sort of hopeless has-been. She's still at the top of her career, she's still healthy and fit, and she's satisfied with all of her personal relationships— except one, that is.
“Dude,” Leonnius says.
“...Okay, that came out wrong,” Perdikkas admits, rubbing her neck. “Sorry, it's just kind of unsettling to watch. Like, it would actually be really cute if it wasn't ruining your life this much.”
“She's not ruining my life,” Mydeimos argues. It feels important to point out with Phainon.png sitting right there.
“But your feelings for her are,” Hephaestion says. “I know you, Dei. You're all dutiful and straightforward, but you'll also sacrifice every part of yourself for the people you care about without saying a word. What if Phainon actually meets someone else? I hate to say it, but you actually might just let it happen if you think it would make her happy.”
“Hey. Hey! Hands off the antique table!” Ptolemy snaps when she hears it start to creak beneath Mydei’s death grip. She turns to Hephaestion. “Can I say it? We're all thinking it.”
“I'll take anything at this point,” Hephaestion mutters.
“It is so painfully clear that Phainon wants to fuck you that it's actually obscene,” Ptolemy tells Mydeimos, which makes her choke on a cookie. “Did you know that I had no idea that Phainon of Okhema Incorporated could act like a normal person until I saw her away from you? I ran into her in the hallway once and her tongue was in her mouth.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mydeimos snaps.
“No, she's right. Phainon is like, constantly licking her lips around you,” Perdikkas says. “Or giggling or teasing or just… keeps it stuck between her teeth like she's trying to get it to behave. You're like a snack she can't eat.”
“I showed Phainon a picture of Dei in high school and she cried,” Peucesta testifies.
“She did not.” That has to be untrue. That's just… dumb.
“It was you in your prom dress,” Peucesta explains. She doesn't explain much else.
“You guys want my opinion? This whole ‘living together’ situation is making things way too complicated,” Leonnius says as she tips back in her chair, frowning. “It's that 1% chance you might get rejected that would make things go to shit, right? And the even lower percent chance that she would hate you for it. Just move out.”
Mydeimos feels her whole body lock up. “What?”
“Leave. Skedaddle. Adiós.” Leonnius makes a running motion with her fingers. “Look, the problem is that you don't want to make things awkward while you're living together. If you're not, it makes the whole jump a lot less weird. If she gets cold feet, you guys can just be apart for a while and figure out things safely.”
Perdikkas peers at her with a mixture of awe and disappointment. “...You are so selectively intelligent.”
“Thanks.”
Mydeimos shakes her head. “I can't just flake on her. We share a lease now.”
“I'll take it,” Peucesta says.
“What?”
“I hate my apartment,” she continues with a shrug, “and I wanna pet her dog. Sublet me.”
“That's…” Mydeimos doesn't believe what's happening. “You can't just… That's now how this works.”
“Why not?”
Because Mydeimos would rather sell her entire antique weapons collection than give up what she has with Phainon. Because she doesn't want someone else to have the pleasure of seeing Phainon after she's just woken up, gotten back from work, snuggled up with a chimera plushie on the couch. That's Mydei’s. It's…
It's not actually Mydei's.
The evidence of Mydeimos’ crumbling conviction must be evident on her face, because the looks her way become much more sympathetic. Hephaestion even pats her shoulder in comfort.
“Can’t believe I have to tell this to the all-powerful Mydeimos, but come on,” Hephaestion urges her, "you've gotta take it or leave it. That's how you always deal with these things, right? With firm decisiveness.”
Mydeimos knows the answer here is clear. She doesn't want to leave Phainon, period. She needs to stop fucking around.
But… Hephaestion was right earlier, too. Mydeimos would let Phainon go if it made her happy. She wouldn't even ask for her heart back.
Mydeimos may be stubborn and bold and confident, but she has never been selfish.
She doesn't know if she knows how to be.
Mydeimos leaves that evening with a full stomach and an empty head. She thinks she may have short-circuited her brain so badly that it needs a couple hours to reboot.
She's just shaking off the remnants of the little bit of wine she indulged herself in when a voice comes from the other end of Hephaestion’s porch.
“Hey.”
Mydeimos turns. Then she remembers that it's not just Hephaestion who owns this porch.
Ptolemy walks up to her with an uncharacteristic edge of anxiousness in her expression. She scrunches her nose, unsure if she wants to open her mouth or not, but eventually gives in.
“Pack an overnight bag, put it in your car, and take her somewhere nice,” her friend eventually says. “If things go sideways, you don't have to go back to your apartment. Just come here. We have three guest rooms and I'll pay you to help handle the horses.”
“I’m not losing my job,” Mydeimos points out. “I thought those were rooms for your future children.”
“Yeah, well they're not here yet, are they? Fucking bureaucracy.”
Ptolemy huffs and shoves her arms beneath her generous chest, reminding Mydeimos that this, too, was once a woman desperately and pathetically in love.
Mydeimos frowns. Perhaps she’s done Ptolemy a disservice, attributing all of her effort into one part of her awkward courtship. Hephaestion isn’t so shallow that she would marry one of her friends just because they had her favorite pair of boobs, and Mydeimos, of all people, should know how annoying it can get to focus on such a thing.
“...How did you do it?” Mydeimos asks.
“Do what?”
“Convince Hephaestion to risk your friendship,” Mydeimos says. She’s only ever heard about this from Hephaestion’s side, always with a lot of blushing and awkward stammering. Besides, Mydeimos has never been the gossiping type, so it’s not really a story she seeks out.
Ptolemy opens her mouth, where it hovers awkwardly. Her eyes shift from side to side, her expressions twisting and scrunching as she tries to figure out how to respond.
Eventually, she confesses, “...I made a plan.”
Mydeimos raises a brow. “Okay?”
“I listed out all of the pros and cons for why we should date,” Ptolemy further explains, and Mydeimos realizes that this may not be as simple as she’d expected. “I then typed out detailed advocacy for the pros and counter-arguments for the cons. I wrote them out on note cards and labelled them by topic and severity. Then I put my favorite picture of her up on my corkboard and recited my points out-loud so I could find potential flaws and perfect my diction.”
Mydeimos stares. She thinks Ptolemy may have made more effort in this event than her own dissertation. “I see,” Mydeimos says with nod.
“As you know, I am not… very good at reading the room,” Ptolemy continues with a huff. “Spontaneity is an enemy of mine, and I was afraid my… being vulnerable would compromise my chances at success. There was a high chance I would panic and be unable to spot the necessary microexpressions in her response. My biggest fear was that she would… that she would be afraid of me.”
Oh. Now that Mydeimos is experiencing such extreme romantic feelings herself, she thinks she understands. She thinks about Phainon’s deep-seated insecurities, the way she actively avoids voicing her own discomforts and desires.
The way Mydeimos, for the first time in her life, fears the line she must cross to get what she wants.
“However, after multiple failures in gathering the courage to even bring up the topic, I had to execute a different approach.” Ptolemy nods solemnly. “I went, as that idiot Leonnius would put it, ‘full slut.'”
Mydeimos chokes on air. “What? Wait, you did all of that before you got LASIK?”
“What do you mean ‘before’? Just how long do you think I’d been planning for that moment!?”
“A few months?”
Ptolemy is silent for a few moment. Her eyes shift again. Her feet shuffle. “...Let’s go with that.”
“A few years?” Mydeimos realizes.
“Anyways, I was able to convince myself that Hephaestion found me sexually attractive, and gathered an appropriate amount of confidence in attempting another confession that didn’t involve me running back my dorm halfway through.”
It was always strange how Hephaestion thought Ptolemy had any interest in physical activity back then. “And that worked?”
“No.” Ptolemy sighs and runs a hand through her short hair. “In the end, I forgot every one of my notecards and outfits and became victim to spontaneity."
“You confessed over the phone,” Mydeimos remembers.
“I told her over the fucking phone,” Ptolemy says with much more disdain. Still disappointed in herself, to this day. “I was the first person she called when she found out the treatments were working. Before her parents. Before you.”
She says that as if Mydeimos had been some bitter rival of hers of Hephaestion’s affections. And, yes, Mydeimos and Hephaestion have been joined at the hip since they were kids, so in each others’ orbits that it was one impossible to separate them, and this once caused the sensitive Ptolemy a lot of grief. That call must have meant the world to her.
“You just couldn’t hold it in anymore,” Mydeimos recognizes with a bout of sympathy. “You loved her too much.”
“You… Don’t say such embarrassing things,” Ptolemy hisses. “This is not something I intend to ‘bond’ over with you. I am only telling you about this because you are pathetic and sorely need it. The way you are fumbling this relationship with a woman who wants you so much she might as well have a big flashing sign over her head needs to be studied under a microscope.”
Hmph. That’s all she’s been hearing all evening, really. How obvious it is that Phainon reciprocates.
And here’s Mydeimos, breaking every single one of her beliefs and convictions because the 0.00001% chance of Phainon hating her over it is enough to make her feel a word that doesn’t even exist in her native tongue.
Mydeimos sighs. The night is cold, the crickets are chirping, and she want to see her roommate. Phainon must be missing her terribly right now.
“I’m gonna go,” she finally declares. Ptolemy would gag if Mydeimos tried to thank her, but that's always what's worked for them.
Mydeimos finally steps off the porch and stares out into the dark shroud of Hephaestion and Ptolemy’s pastures. Phainon loves the countryside, doesn’t she? Maybe Mydeimos should find some land for them.
It’s becoming unbearable, the thought of spending the rest of her life without that woman.
“Ptolemy,” she calls out.
“What?”
“I think one of your horses escaped.”
“By fucking Strife!” Ptolemy leaps off the porch and darts out to the gates in the distance, where a very horse-shaped figure is trying to jimmy the lock open. “I’m gonna put you back on Craigslist you shit-stomper!”
Hm. Mydeimos thinks her and Phainon’s future farm will be fine without any large animals.
Some chickens would be nice, though.
In the end, Mydeimos ends up being inspired by Ptolemy’s journey in a way she didn’t expect: she makes a plan.
It’s a very good plan. Mydeimos is great at plans; it’s practically her entire job. She lists the pros, lists the cons. The cons part of the list actually ends up very long because Mydeimos is also very good at point out flaws and potential disasters.
Except then she gets to the part where she has to make counter-arguments for the plans. As she types and types and types, she realizes that a lot of them are just a lot of variations of the same thing. So she ends up deleting all of the rambling copies, point by point, until she ends up with only one.
- I love you too much to be your friend.
Mydeimos stares at the line for a long time. So long that her arms begin to ache from where they’re perched on her keyboard, and she folds them into her lap.
She takes a deep breath. When she exhales, she finds herself holding back tears.
That night, she prays to her Kremnoan ancestors to give her strength.
The next morning, she throws her blinds open, glares out at the sun rising over the horizon, and knows what she has to do.
Mydeimos plans it for a weekend. In an attempt to distract herself from her impeding doom, she throws herself into her work, her fitness routine. She even packs an overnight bag and shoves it into the trunk of her car. It’s weirdly assuring to know it’s there.
But that assurance disgusts her. It makes her feel like she’s preparing for failure. Kremnoans do not prepare for failure, they either succeed or die!
So to counteract the shame, she prepares for success as well. She buys three different sets of lingerie. She buys a new harness for her strap, and even a few couple's vibrators. She orders several of her favorite photos of Phainon and puts them in her wallet, in her desk at work, inside her bedside table. She goes shopping with the girls several times for date outfits for a nice restaurant, an outdoor picnic, a winter stroll through the park.
In a fit of adrenaline and lust, she ends up ordering a snowy blue harness in Phainon’s size and a cute set angel wings. She also throws in a tail plug and some fluffy dog ears. Some nipple clamps with a sun and moon and chain of stars.
Mydeimos thinks she may be going insane, but she needs to ride the momentum. Eyes on the prize. Wife. Farm. Chickens.
One weekend, she finally manages to get everything ready.
She’s found a gorgeous stargazing area out near the place she and Phainon go hiking. She has a menu typed up on her phone for a picnic basket she’ll prepare for them, a nice dress that’s a domestic baby pink, and a set of notecards that she’s memorized for ‘Why it would be a great idea to date me with the intention of marriage’ like she’s some delusional eighteen year old who’s never held a girl’s hand.
Her heart feels like its about to burst. It feels so real now.
But then, she finds it.
She’s just come back from buying all the ingredients she’s secretly going to be using to make their picnic food for next weekend. Phainon has done Mydeimos' taxes, which Mydeimos ended up getting an extension for because she hates doing her taxes that much, and has been sitting at the kitchen table in her hideous crop and those reading glasses that make Mydeimos want to kiss her stupid. Wife. Farm. Chickens.
In her domestic haze, skipping around like the fool in love she is, Mydeimos then realizes that she forgot her sports drinks in her car.
“I’ll get them!” Phainon declares, and dashes out before Mydeimos can put a word in.
When the door shuts behind her, Mydeimos lets out an affectionate snort. What a good girl. Mydeimos doesn't know how she's let it go on this long without making that woman hers.
After putting away the frozens and perishables, Mydeimos bumps up against Phainon’s laptop. She really should check on her taxes. She can’t go through the embarrassment of having Phainon do them for her again next year; it was already humiliating enough to admit that someone of her calibre had put them off for so long.
But she also can’t deny that it felt good to have Phainon handling her assets, even if it was just financially.
So Mydeimos jimmies Phainon’s laptop to life and starts to click around for the proper documents. Usually, Phainon downloads the PDF and emails it to Mydeimos as soon as she’s done, but Mydeimos hasn’t gotten a notification for it yet. She goes down to look at the local files when—
What’s that?
Mydeimos squints. Amphoreus Living? Why is Phainon looking for apartments?
She clicks on it. The search query is filled out for a pet-friendly one-bed that is around Phainon’s range for her salary.
A place for one.
The implication hits her like a truck, and panic begins to well in Mydeimos’ gut.
“What are you doing?”
Mydeimos looks up, and there’s Phainon.
She’s a bit sweaty from how much she hurried to get to the car and back with the drinks. Had she remembered what she was doing, and was rushing to keep Mydeimos from finding out?
“I was checking on my taxes,” Mydei says evenly. Calm down. Calm down. It’s Phainon. She adores you. Why would she leave you? “What’s going on with this? Are we moving?”
She waits for Phainon to deny it. To go pink and sputter about how she was looking for a coworker, or even drop to her knees and confess that she was fantasizing about a place where they could live somewhere cozier with only one bed.
But she doesn’t.
Phainon is sheet white. She can’t meet Mydeimos’ eyes. She’s always been transparent, and even now, Mydeimos knows what she’s feeling clear as day.
Guilt.
“Are you moving?” Mydeimos then asks, and Phainon tenses even more. Her breathing becomes labored, and Mydeimos realizes that she’d been right. No. How dare you. You can’t. “Phainon, answer me. Are you trying to leave me?”
“No! I-I mean, I’m not trying to leave you. Or, I am, but… but there’s nothing wrong with you, I just…”
She is.
She admitted it, just like that?
It hits Mydeimos. The thought of her planning all… all of the things she wanted to do, the hours she spent on the menus and dresses and cards burning a hole in her desk, while in the meantime, Phainon had been trying to figure out a way to escape her.
It’s humiliating. It’s…
What… What has she even been doing? What was the point of all of this?
“Nothing wrong with me?” Mydei manages to say, her face hot. Don’t cry. You can't cry. “Months ago, you were begging me to live with you, and now you’re running off with your tail between your legs.” She chuckles darkly. “To think I thought you had more integrity than that.”
Phainon looks as though she’s been slapped. “I…”
“I guess it was stupid of me to think we’d actually become friends,” Mydei snaps. She sucks in a breath, just barely holding back a sob. “I really… wanted that. I like the me I am when I’m with you, you know. If it’s because I…”
Fuck.
She can’t do this.
“Forget it. I can’t talk to you right now.” Quickly, Mydeimos turns to leave. There’s an overnight bag in her trunk and a place for her to run away to.
“Mydei, it’s not…” Phainon swallows. “Mydei. Mydei, I don’t hate you, I just… I need space. I need to—”
“Shut up,” Mydei snaps at her. “You’re making it worse. Just don’t talk to me.”
“No! Mydei, please, it really is my problem! I’m the problem!”
That’s what she always says. Phainon will take the blame for everything if it meant she wouldn’t bother people, but what good does that do, anyways? She never thinks about how her self-imposed martyrdom affects the people who actually care about her.
“And that makes it okay to treat me like this?” Mydeimos hisses. “Grow up, Phainon!”
“Don’t hate me!” Phainon then cries. She grabs Mydeimos, and it’s strong, desperate. Mydeimos, in no mood to entertain her, tries to yank herself away, but Phainon keeps going. “Please, don’t hate me! It’s my fault, I’m sick, and I want you so bad! I can’t do this anymore! I’m the worst person in the world and I don’t deserve to even look at you and… and— aah, aaaaghhh…”
When Phainon bursts into tears, Mydeimos, as if on instinct, forgets everything else.
The hands on Mydeimos’ arm go slack, allowing Mydeimos to escape if she wants to. But Mydeimos can’t. It’s almost cruel, how quickly Phainon can get Mydeimos to change her mind with just the flip of a switch.
But she knows Phainon. Her beloved roommate wouldn’t force anyone to follow her whims like this, let alone her own feelings.
Perhaps it isn’t just Phainon’s distress that keeps Mydeimos in place, but the fact that here, with Phainon broken in desperation, Mydeimos has found a rare moment of raw emotion that she cannot look away from.
Slowly, she reaches up and cups Phainon’s wet cheeks.
When Phainon manages to calm down, Mydeimos wiping away her tears, she looks up with those round blue eyes and wet, pale lashes, like she was born from the Sky Father themself.
Gods, Mydeimos so far gone.
“You…” Mydeimos swallows, and draws Phainon’s sweaty bangs back from her face. “Fuck… You make me stupid.”
Phainon whimpers. It sends a trill down Mydeimos’ spine. “Mm’sorry…”
“Stop apologizing,” Mydeimos commands, and Phainon obeys, her jaw clicking shut. A headache pounds from behind her eyes. “...Just… Hah, just explain, okay? What do you mean you’re ‘sick’?”
“I’m gross,” Phainon confesses. She looks like she has committed a sin, and Mydeimos has locked her into a confessional. “I… I wanna touch you, Mydei. I want you to touch me. I… I’m the one who asked you to move in with me, and I turned you into some sort of sex toy! I wanna sniff your hair and kiss your mouth and… and…!”
She…
No way.
Is this actually happening? Is Phainon… Is Phainon confessing to Mydeimos like this? In such a crude and pathetic way in the middle of their apartment on a random fucking day?
“Sniff my…” Mydei’s hands tighten against Phainon’s roots, enticing a needy sound from the woman before her. It does nothing to help calm the fire flickering to life in Mydei’s stomach. “Phainon. Phainon, were you trying to run away because you wanted to have sex with me?”
Phainon looks like she wishes the ceiling would collapse on the exact square of floor she stands on. “Nnngh… yeeee’noooh….”
By the Lord of Strife.
Mydeimos draws her hand to Phainon’s mouth and traps that babbling thing beneath her fingertips. She plays with the wet plush of Phainon’s lip, as if punishing it for being so useless. “Let me rephrase. Were you planning on abandoning me in this apartment while you fucked off to whatever corner of Amphoreus you could get your hands on, just because you wanted to have sex with me?”
“...No,” Phainon eventually admits. “I want you, Mydei.”
How ridiculous. Does wanting Mydeimos torment her so? “Am I so terrible?”
“No.”
Suddenly, Mydeimos feels hands at her waist. She sucks in a breath as they trail down to her hips, into her sheer overshirt, and fit back around her middle with a possessive grip. Fingers dig into her stomach as Phainon leans in, her eyes never leaving Mydeimos’, her breath mingling Mydeimos’ own.
“I want… to be yours. And for you to be mine.” Phainon licks her lips. You're like a snack she can't eat. “Always.”
This… This fool. After all of the grief she’s caused Mydeimos, and she just drops all of that like this? Given, Mydeimos practically forced her to, but it feels as though she’s stolen something from Mydeimos.
The longer she holds Phainon’s lovesick gaze, the way she seems so accomplished at finally being able to touch Mydeimos and confess her true feelings it… it feels…
Irritating.
Growling, Mydeimos sinks her hands into Phainon’s hair and yanks. How dare you. How dare you.
“Such a clingy puppy,” she says lowly, “and yet you still tried to run away. From me.”
Phainon gasps, her eyes widening and her pupils blowing out. Good, Mydeimos thinks. You’re being punished right now. “M-Mydei, you don’t get it. The things I’ve done—”
“You mean all those times you’ve shown off what you hide beneath those little skirts of yours? Or flashed your pretty tits at me? ” Mydeimos runs her other hand up Phainon’s body. She feels every part of Phainon that had tortured her, tempted her so terribly it hurt her. Here. And here. And here. “If you’re ‘sick’ Phainon, then what am I, for sticking around and enjoying the show?”
And pretty little Phainon, in all her pitiful shivering, has the audacity to look surprised by the declaration. “Enjoying it?”
Mydeimos bares her teeth. “You really thought you were the only one acting like an animal in heat?” She begins to move forward, and Phainon, in turn, backs away. Go on. Try to run. “Do you not realize what you’ve been doing to me? In here, in the office, I was sure you were doing it on purpose, but I could never prove it.”
Eventually, Phainon bumps into the kitchen table, and Mydeimos shoves her legs between Phainon’s own to keep her from escaping. Phainon’s eyes dart down with a gasp as Mydeimos’s thigh just barely touches her clothed cunt. Oh, she must be so wet.
“S-Sometimes it was,” Phainon then confesses. Mydeimos narrows her eyes. “Mostly… Mostly at the office. I wanted your attention, but you never said anything. I’d roll up my skirts for you, Mydei. I felt practically naked in those meetings.”
Hmph. Was that was what all that was?
In a way, Mydeimos feels a pang of relief. So Phainon hadn’t actually been showing off her bare legs and chest for the whole office to see on purpose. No, it had been for Mydeimos. All for Mydeimos. Because Phainon is hers.
But in the same vein, it hadn’t been a private show. She could see how employees from both companies would peek in to catch a glimpse of Phainon. So that’s what they were looking for? Phainon, looking the way she does when she wants to be fucked? How many of those undeserving freaks took that memory home with them and came to the memory of Phainon’s perfect legs and glossy lips?
Oh, this disobedient pup. There’s no way Mydeimos can leave her on her own anymore.
“And at the park?” Mydeimos continues as she takes Phainon’s breast into her hand, intent on listing every one of her roommates sins. She needs to know what’s made her such a bad girl. “And the beach? And when you crawled into my bed and wrapped your sopping cunt around my leg? I had to cum in the shower three times while you slept naked in my sheets!”
“I was drunk— aanh!” Mydeimos sneers and twists Phaionon’s soft nipple. She’s not allowed to make excuses. Mydeimos squeezes and squishes and draws sound after sound from Phainon’s panting mouth. “M-Mydei, please…”
“Did you know you with a hangover looks freshly fucked? Especially you in my clothes… ”
Gods… the night after Mydeimos almost took her, thinking she was a dream. Mydeimos could have returned Phainon to her own room, but she didn’t trust herself to touch the woman further. She instead dressed Phainon in her own clothes and slept the rest of the night on the couch. Then, in the morning, she was greeted by the sight of Phainon crawling out looking like that.
“Is that what you want, Phainon?” She thinks about the strap she bought. The one for herself, and the one for Phainon. “Do you want my cock? Or do you want me to sit on yours?”
Phainon turns that shade of pink that’s beginning to become Mydeimos’ favorite. “I… I don’t have…”
Mydeimos chuckles and teases that perky nipple between her nails. “A strap? You’re strictly a bottom then?” That’s fine. It’s not like Mydeimos loves penetration that much. She has so many other ways of keeping Phainon satisfied.
“I used to have one,” Phainon confesses. Oh? “My pervious partners…” Hm? “They liked me topping. But the harness got worn out and I got busy so I just… never got another one.”
What.
What the fuck?
Mydeimos, mind blank, steps back a bit to stare at Phainon. That gorgeous face, lip stuck between her teeth as she looks up at Mydeimos through her lashes. It’s not like Mydeimos expected her to be a virgin, but… but what the fuck? She what?
“So you fucked enough people to wear out your harness, but never even tried to ask me to have sex with you?” Mydeimos says, aghast. What in the fucking power top?
“You’re different,” Phainon tells her, so red she may pass out, though she sounds like she means it. “I want you to be with me more than I want you to fuck me.”
“But you also want me to fuck you.”
“Hard…” Phainon’s voice lowers to a squeak. “...and frequently.”
Oh… Oh, she really just said that, didn’t she?
Phainon of Okhema Incorporated, wants Mydeimos to fuck her hard and frequently.
Well then, Mydeimos thinks, licking her lips as she stares down at the trembling woman beneath her. She'll will have to show this poor pup what it means to ask for such a thing.
With growl, she shoves her hands down Phainon’s pants, and begins their lesson.
When all is said and done with, Mydeimos feels like she… may have taken things a bit too far.
Memories of spanking Phainon into submission, calling her a whore, fingerfucking her until she was covered in slick and squirt and whimpering Mydeimos’ name, fill her with shame. Mydeimos had tried to make up for it by letting Phainon loose on her, which was rather overwhelming but felt really, really good, but Mydeimos really expected better of herself.
She turns in bed. It smells like she’s surrounded by Phainon, draped in her wintery blue sheets and quilted comforter. Phainon is curled up on her side, unable to sleep on her back because of Mydeimos’ punishment, but has drifted a bit too far away in her sleep for Mydeimos’ liking.
No longer caring about pride or restraint, Mydeimos slides closer to her now-girlfriend and slips her arms around her waist. They’re both wearing sleep shirts, but other than that are still nude beneath the covers. Mydeimos easily reaches down at pets Phainon’s tender ass, as if putting her hands over it could make it feel a little better.
It reminds Mydeimos of that time Phainon got dead drunk in Mydeimos’ bed. Her cheeks flush hotly at the memory, and she buries her face into Phainon’s chest with a groan.
At the sound, Phainon shifts, and Mydeimos remembers that the Phainon now is not dead drunk, and easily wakes when Mydeimos cuddles in and starts groping her.
“Mmh… Mydei?” Phainon leans in a takes a deep breath of Mydeimos’ hair, a smile curling at her lips when she recognizes the scent. A kiss presses there, and Mydeimos is very, very glad she’s hidden her face. “Hehe… That feels good… You like it down there, don’t you?”
“...It’s mine,” Mydeimos says, like a child. She slides her hands down and squeezes at Phainon’s thighs, where it won’t hurt. “I’m not gonna do anything. Go back to sleep.”
“Mm, you could if you wanted to,” Phainon tells her. Gods damn this woman. “I wouldn’t mind if it’s you. In fact, I’d really like it… waking up to you having your way with me. I think I’ve dreamed about it.”
If only Phainon knew all of the things Mydeimos has dreamed up about her. It wouldn’t be very productive to confess it all; there’s just too much to admit. She can easily bypass this admission by simply asking Phainon to fulfill her fantasies. She can do that now.
Something warm blooms in Mydeimos’ chest at the thought. It finally begins to dawn on her that Phainon really is hers now. Phainon, gorgeous, dorkish, brilliant Phainon, is her girlfriend, and Mydeimos is going to everything in her power to keep her.
Elation overcomes her, and Mydeimos can’t help but dip in and press a kiss to Phainon’s neck. Phainon giggles, and Mydeimos loves it. She kisses her again, and again, trailing her lips up Phainon’s jaw before tugging her face down so she can kiss those pink cheeks and lips.
“Hehe, hehe! Mydei! Mydei, I love you too, ahaha! Aha… mmh… ah…”
They kiss, and it’s perfect. There’s no rush, no desperation. They have forever ahead of them, and Mydeimos is not going to be controlled by fear again. Not with Phainon.
They trade lazy kisses until their eyes flutter shut once more. Their legs tangle together, but even though they’re not wearing anything there, it doesn’t feel sexual. It feels complete. As if Mydiemos is right where she belongs.
They lay wrapped in each other until morning, looking forward to the days ahead.
A few months later, it is a beautiful morning in their shared apartment. The smell of bacon and eggs wafts through the apartment, along with the sweetness of freshly-cut fruit. Sunlight peeks through the drawn curtains, washing their living space in a reddish glow.
At the kitchen table, Mydeimos is doing something she never thought she’d dare do.
“Mmh… a-aanh… aah…”
Sprawled on her back across the kitchen table is Phainon, completely naked except for a pair of purple socks bunched around her ankles. Her hair curls around her cheeks as she tosses her head to the side, puppy ears quivering with every jolt sent through her body. Between her legs, Mydeimos sucks greedily at her pink pussy, lapping up every little drop of slick she can get her tongue on.
Tears in her eyes, Phainon squeezes at her own breasts. She whimpers as though it's not enough, too familiar with Mydeimos’ bigger hands, the way they know exactly how to touch her. Mydeimos lifts her head and watches the sight fondly. She licks Phainon’s sweet essence off her lips and tugs her lover up.
“Missing me already?” he teases as Phainon eagerly grabs for her, wrapping herself around Mydeimos’ shoulders as though she’s been gone for ages. “I haven’t gone anywhere, darling. I’ve been right… here…”
She dips her fingers into Phainon’s open cunt, making her gasp. Phainon looks down at her with a wobbly pout, and Mydeimos smirks before pressing her mouth to that jutted lip.
“All I did was wear the ears,” Phainon accuses her. “I wanted to look cute for you while I cooked.”
“Mm, because you’re my dutiful little puppy?”
“Mmhm…” Phainon sighs against Mydeimos’ mouth when she’s kissed again. Mydeimos loves it when Phainon shamelessly calls herself Mydei’s dog. She tugs her girlfriend off the table and onto her lap so she can close the gap between their bodies. “Mydei…”
“Mm…”
“We’re gonna be late…”
“We work in tech, Phainon,” Mydeimos tells her with a smattering of lipstick-stained kisses. “Unless you have a meeting this morning, we can be as late as we want.”
“You have a meeting this morning,” Phainon tells her. Ah, yes, they share their calendars. Of course she would know this.
“Mm… It’s fine. Krateros can handle it.”
Phainon looks like she wants to protest, but then Mydeimos takes her shirt off. Then her bra. Their bare breasts press together, and Phainon’s eyes grow as big as the eggs they haven’t eaten, her pouting lips curling up into a lovesick grin.
“Mydei… Hehe, Mydei, you’re so, so pretty. Did you know? You’re the prettiest, baby,” she coos as she rubs herself all over Mydei’s front, nuzzling into Mydeimos’ hair. “Just this once, okay? Mmm, oh!” She jumps when Mydeimos lifts her up and takes Phainon’s pink nipple into her mouth. “O-Oh… Ahh…”
When Phainon sinks her hands into Mydeimos’ hair, tugging off her clips and ties, Mydeimos knows they’re going all the way. She lifts Phainon back up onto the table, and Phainon grabs at Mydeimos’ skirt to shove it up over her hips. Mydeimos is already leaking through her stockings, and the exposure makes her quiver. Phainon licks her lips and—
Someone’s phone goes off.
They stare at each other. Phainon blinks, then Mydeimos.
And with a big sigh and a small fit of laughter, Phainon reaches over to grab the phone that’s ringing elsewhere on the table while Mydeimos fixes her skirt and throws her bra and shirt back on. Phainon’s still bare, though, so she runs off to go find her girlfriend a blanket. Whoever’s on the end does not need the unspoken knowledge that they’re speaking to Phainon naked.
“Hello?” Phainon answers. A pause. As Mydeimos returns, Phainon laughs and says, “Oh, yeah, she’s here! Sorry, she’s busy getting ready.”
Mydeimos wraps the blanket around her naughty puppy and grabs the phone to snap, “What?”
“If you don’t make it to this meeting, I’m taking you off all of your Okhema projects.”
Mydeimos’ jaw clicks shut. She looks over at Phainon, who is smirking at her like they’re sharing a punishment. “...I’ll be online in a few.”
On the other end, Krateros sighs. “Fine. But you need to have your camera on. Set up somewhere decent.”
“Yes,” she grumbles. Thirty years old, and she still turns into a child when this man scolds her. She watches mournfully as Phainon hops off the table and starts to collect her clothes off the floor. “Anything else?”
“...You’ve changed.”
Mydeimos feels her brows raise. “What brought this on?”
“The fact that you’re choosing your sex life over your work, for one.”
By Strife, she has never wanted to hear the words ‘sex life’ out of this man in her life. “That doesn’t mean I’ve changed. Dating Phainon has not mutated my DNA.”
“Don’t be a smartass about this,” Krateros tells her, to which Mydeimos sneers. She’s not. She’s just saying what she means. “That woman brings things out of you that you would have never even dared to think about before! What is all of this paperwork that I’ve found on your desk? Since when have you wanted to live in the countryside? Are these chickens?”
“Stop going through my desk!” Mydeimos snaps. She only printed those care and feeding guides out because she needed to get an idea of what she’d have to prepare for. “How do you know that I wouldn’t want any chickens at this age, anyways? You know how much I love natural ingredients. It was always a possibility.”
“Do you realize how you sound right now?” Krateros asks. She can imagine him running his hands through his greying beard, pressing his knuckles against his temple as he sighs. “You’re just like that mother of yours. Turning her entire life around for a pretty face.”
Mydeimos gapes. Her mother? Her mother, from everyone she’s ever talked to, has been the exact same person for the past fifty years. She’s the one who kicked her father out for being a piece of shit, and only took him back when he was up to her standards again. Her mother is the most certain person she knows.
And Mydeimos is not turning her life around.
“I’m hanging up. I need to get ready for the meeting," she says, then does just that before Krateros can yell at her any more.
At the sound of their conversation ending, Phainon pops back into the kitchen. She’s dressed again, sans puppy ears. She peers at Mydeimos with sly eyes and grins knowingly. Like the little devil she is, she raises her hand up to her mouth, parting her fingers in two, and gives a slow, agonizing lick between the gap.
Nikador, I'd let her to destroy me, Mydeimos thinks with burning cheeks. She shoots her partner a look of warning before hurrying off to grab her laptop bag from the door.
Do people change? Perhaps.
They’re still the same person as they were yesterday, and the year before, and the years before that.
But they can learn. They can discover new things, search for new answers, and, if they allow it, rethink everything they’ve ever known, even if it's about themselves.
Mydeimos, as she’s come to learn, actually knows very little about herself. She is going to forever be an ocean of possibilities, for better or worse. To know that is quite terrifying.
But with Phainon by her side, who sees more of her than she will ever be able to see alone, who thinks she is capable of so many incredible things, Mydeimos knows her future is bright.
Hmph. Perhaps she has changed. She’s never imagined she could be so cliché.