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“I heard you whimpering last night” isn’t exactly something you can say to someone over your morning coffee. Mydeimos knows that Phainon has nightmares—they’d talked about it before, before they’d moved in together, and she’d brought it up periodically since. Often as excuses to not go for their early morning run, but that’s neither here nor there. Still, it’s been a while since they’d plagued Phainon like this. Mydei is—she’s concerned.
She’s never crossed the threshold of Phainon’s room for this sort of thing but the thought had occurred to her to shake her best friend awake, to rescue her from whatever had plagued her. But, every time she’d approached the door, hesitated outside, the sound had settled to just the soft puff of breath. If the creaky floorboards of their shared apartment were enough to pull Phainon from whatever horrible things her mind was putting her through, Mydei resolves to never fix them.
That doesn’t solve the root of the problem, though.
Mydei doesn’t know what will, but she knows what will at least help. So, she goes shopping one day while Phai’s at work, unpackages everything and leaves them on the couch for Phainon to find.
She’s got a book propped up on her knee when Phainon clatters home. Her keys jangle loudly from the heavy ball of keyrings, the door slams open and hits the foam yoga block Mydei leaves behind it for this very reason. “I’m home!” Phainon yells, as if she’d had any level of subtlety in her arrival. “I got you a juice, but you left your bike in my spot so I don’t want to give it to you.”
She’s made it to the living room now, dropping her satchel on the ground, setting the carrier with two cups on the table. Then she’s flopping onto the couch with a groan, face down in Mydei’s lap.
“HKS,” Mydei hisses as she moves the book just in time. “What if I hadn’t moved, huh? I’d be picking your face out of the cover.” She snaps the book closed, taps Phainon on the back of the head with it. It’s a soft cover, but Phainon still huffs in protest.
Mydei resigns herself to the fact that she’s done reading for now and sets her book aside. Phai’s blazingly warm where her face is shoved into Mydei’s thigh. “I got there first, so that makes it my park,” she adds a moment later.
“Bullshit,” Phainon mumbles against her leg, before she pauses, rolls to her side, and looks down. “What..?”
A chimera plushie stares back at her, kicked from its pile by her flailing legs.
“Uh. Did we always have that?” she points.
“No.”
“That’s… Fig stew?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have… Friends?”
Inane. “Of course. Vigeroth is there too.”
Phainon blinks up at her, and Mydei wants to bite her, just to get that expression off her face. It takes her a moment to quell the cute aggression, then she lifts a hand and flicks Phainon in the forehead. “Did you lose all sense?” Mydei says, cursing herself for how fond she sounds. The rest of the words dry up in her throat. The offer, the admission of care. She looks away, and Phainon’s laugh is music to her ears.
“If you like them, they can stay,” Phainon says. “You don’t keep a lot of things out here.” She’s misunderstood, but Mydei can’t untie her tongue to correct her. Still, she shoves her feet under the blanket, hugs the plushie to her chest, and that’s enough for her.
The nightmares don’t seem to stop, but each morning she finds Phainon on the sofa wrapped in one of the blankets there, plush chimeras tucked under her chin. Mydei pats herself on the back for it.
She puts it out of her mind, right up until Phainon picks up a new, inane habit.
—
They get home from the gym. Mydei’s arms hurt in the most satisfying way, a thin sheen of sweat covering her despite toweling off before they’d walked home. She drops her bag just inside the door of her room, rinses her shaker in the sink, then calls out to wherever Phainon’s disappeared to, “I’m taking the first shower.”
There’s a rattle of Phainon’s door as she emerges, mussed and sweaty, from her bedroom. “But I beat you home!” she says, hands on her hips. She doesn’t race for the bathroom like normal, just stands and pouts.
Mydei is momentarily distracted by the gentle sway of her chest. She’s small enough that she usually can get away with a tank top and not much else, and Mydei’s always done her best to not stare. Now, though, her brain checks out, and all she can think about is the bump of Phainon’s nipples and the way her chest felt against Mydei’s arm the last time Phainon had hugged it. Her mouth is dry, tongue sticking for a moment. She grabs her water bottle, takes a sip, clears her throat. “Well, I hit more reps.” She doesn’t admit that the only reason Phainon beat her up the stairs to their apartment was because she’d been staring at her ass. “That’s our usual bet, isn’t it? Don’t go changing the rules to suit yourself.”
Phainon splutters, takes a few steps forward, and it breaks the tension holding Mydei rooted in place. “Don’t you dare,” Mydei says, barrelling down the hallway before Phainon could, getting her foot in the bathroom door a moment before Phainon’s chest hits her back, hand reaching over Mydei’s shoulder for the door. “I win,” she says as every other part of her brain alerts, as something in her belly tightens. She can feel Phainon’s nipples against her back, and her friend’s huffed breath in her ear, and Titans she’s glad she doesn’t have a dick right now or she’d be embarrassing herself.
“Fine, fine, cheater,” Phainon grumbles, stepping back. Mydei feels cold without the contact. “Don’t take too long, I wanna wash my hair.”
Mydei’s hands flex, then she shoulders her way into the bathroom. “I’ll take as long as I want,” she growls, shutting the door on Phainon’s grinning face.
The contact isn’t strange in and of itself—Phainon’s always been tactile, but not like this, not like she’s deliberately drawing Mydei’s attention down to her chest. For a second Mydei lets herself imagine Phainon following through—opening the bathroom door that Mydei never locks, sliding between Mydei and the counter she’s bracing her hands on, inviting and wanting and smiling like the siren she is. But it doesn’t happen, the door stays closed, and Mydei stares at herself in the mirror for a moment before starting up the hot water.
If her hands linger where they shouldn’t while she showers, if her fingers find their way to her slit until she’s rinsing off her own cream along with the suds of body wash, no one needs to know but her.
She leaves the bathroom with a gust of steam, hair wet and curling at her nape. Phainon’s there a moment later like she’d been lurking, grins at Mydei before shoving past her and closing the bathroom door behind her.
The shower rattles on, then a yelp, and Mydei laughs. “Give it a second to refill, HKS,” she reprimands through the door, and Phainon blows a raspberry at her through the wood.
—
It becomes semi-regular, this—Phainon rushing into the bathroom after she showers, the water clattering back on, like a strange competition Mydei doesn’t know the rules of.
It’d be fine, genuinely, if one time Mydei hadn’t heard the faintest whine from outside the bathroom door as she towelled her hair off. There’s a faint sigh, then a little hitch of breath, and Mydei goes very, very still. Her ears strain, and she catches it again, quiet but audible still. Is—Is Phainon—?
Mydei hangs her towel up, makes her steps audible as she crosses the couple of steps to the bathroom door. Rattles it before she opens it, and Phainon’s on the other side, cheeks flushed and eyes wide as she grins. “Took you long enough,” Phainon chirps, and when she pushes past Mydei, something wet drags against Mydei’s exposed hip. She fights back a jump, but Phainon still tilts her head in confusion when Mydei doesn’t move far enough out of the doorway for the door to close. There’s—There’s a wet patch on Phainon’s shorts, on her hip. Like she’s wiped her fingers off there before Mydei opened the door. Her thighs are shaking.
“If you’re that wobbly after your workout,” Mydei says like she hasn’t noticed the rest, like she’s not fixating on the patch of soft thigh exposed by Phainon’s shorts. “Then maybe you need to do a few more sets tomorrow. I’ll spot you, so do it properly.” What is she even saying? She doesn’t know, and neither does Phainon—who stares at her for a moment before nodding in a jerk.
“Fine, make sure you do,” Phainon says, “But I’d like to see if you’re not wobbly after having to stand and wait for the shower to free up.”
Mydei snorts. The sound of Phainon’s whimper replays in her head. “Sure, blame it on me,” she huffs before turning away, heading to her room.
Her door is barely closed, the sound of the shower on in the background, when she’s leaning against her door and shoving her hand down her pants. The spot on her hip that still feels cool, still feels sticky, calls to her and she rubs a finger over it. It’s drying, tacky, but she still brings her finger to her mouth, rubs her tongue against it. Musky, salty. She has to bite back a moan. Phainon can’t know what she’s doing. Can’t know that she knows. Her finger slides deeper, rests on her tongue as her other hand works, as she finds her wet slit, rubs calloused fingers over her clit. She’s going to need another shower after this.
Her fingers dip lower, collecting her own slick to use, to smoothe out the glide as she breathes heavy through her nose. It she breathes deep she can smell the faintest pull of Phainon, still—filling the air from her shower, still tickling her taste buds. Titans, she wants that woman. She’s not sure how she hides it, some days.
Her fingers rub faster, working herself up steadily. Wishing it was her best friend there, between her thighs—thinking about threading her fingers through Phainon’s hair, scratching her short nails against the other’s scalp. She’d be eager, Mydei knows—maybe overeager, spit dripping from her chin as she puts her teasing tongue to work. Hopefully not too inexperienced, as much as Mydei is more than willing to teach her—as much as Mydei’s gut pulses at the thought of being Phainon’s first. There’s no way she’s not lain with another, and Mydei wants to put that knowledge to the test before she wrecks her—she wants to see Phainon squirm, lips and chin wet, Mydei’s fingers deep in her slick pussy.
She comes like that. Her toes curl against the carpet, breath hitching as the coil in her belly snaps. she hunches forward, braid swinging ahead of her, and the only thing keeping her quiet is her own fingers on her tongue.
Mydei squeezes her thighs together, sucks in a breath. Titans—she tries not to do that, to think of her best friend while she does that, but… Phainon had started it, hadn’t she?
—
Mydei drops the weight with a hiss, trusting Phainon to catch it for her—and she does immediately, hauling the bar up into the support rack with a grunt. Once it’s steady Phainon’s dropping to a crouch next to Mydei’s head, hand immediately finding her bare shoulder.
“What happened?” She’s serious, blue eyes sharp as she looks first for obvious injury, then starts to gently press her fingers into the muscle of her shoulder bit by bit. Mydei lets her, breathing hard, back relaxing against the bench, then—she hisses again, sharper, flinching away from the poke of Phainon’s fingers when she hits a sore muscle.
“Just twinged, think I’m done for the day,” Mydei responds as she rolls her arm up over her head, then back down. Full range of motion still, just pain at certain angles. It’ll come right, but she needs to not push it. Phainon stands, offers her a hand, and when Mydei takes it she’s tugged upright. She’s put face-to-face with Phainon’s belly, the skin damp, shiny with sweat. She licks her suddenly-dry lips, drags her eyes away. This was the last thing on Mydei’s list beyond a cooldown, and Phainon won’t need a spotter from here—Mydei’s glad for that when she glances around, only sees men who are a little too interested in the two of them. She gets to her feet and a soft noise escapes her as it jolts her shoulder, has her wobbling a little, unsteady. Phainon’s tucking under her good shoulder a moment later, steading her. Her arm around Mydei’s waist is blazingly hot, hand resting oh so innocently against Mydei’s bare hip, exposed by her slung-low shorts. “You can finish up, I’m fine,” she says, but Phainon squints at her in that way that she has, so, so clearly disbelieving it’s almost funny.
“I’m good,” Phainon says with a shake of her head.
“At least warm down properly, I’ll be fine,” Mydei hisses, and Phainon squints over at her again. “Or else we’ll both be injured, and then what?”
There’s a moment when Phainon wavers, so Mydei deploys her last line of persuasion tactics. “Who’s going to look after me if we’re both hurt?”
Phainon’s eyes sharpen, then she heaves out a breath like she’s not immediately persuaded. “Don’t move too much, I won’t be long,” she says, leading Mydei to the bench nearest their lockers. She heads for the treadmills nearby, and Mydei stands once Phainon is sufficiently distracted, slowly and carefully stretching herself until Phainon’s back. “I saw you moving,” she grumbles, hand finding Mydei’s waist as they head out. Steading, she’s steadying her injured friend, Mydei reminds herself. That’s all this is.
For the briefest moment, she remembers the taste of Phainon’s musk on her tongue, catches herself before she makes a sound. “It didn’t hurt, promise,” she says instead, waving a hand as Phainon continues to fuss over her for the rest of the walk. It’s only a short walk to their shared apartment, the building visible from their gym, and yet each step feels like an age with the heat of Phainon’s hand on her.
Phainon’s radiating concern as they walk, but the true problem doesn’t show up until they’re home, doors closed behind them.
“Phainon,” she calls, huffing out a breath as she tries and fails to get her shirt over her head. She’s in her bedroom, but drops the fabric back into place to get to the living room, sighing when she sees Phainon’s bedroom door closed. “Deliverer I swear to Nikador, you better not be in the shower already.”
Phainon’s door pops open and—she does have a towel over her shoulder, but she’s still got her shaker in one hand ready to rinse out. “I’ve told you before to stop calling me that, it’s been years,” she huffs, and Mydei can’t help but grin, before promptly ignoring the plea.
“Help me with this, will you?” Mydei says, turning her back and lifting her shirt as far as she can get it. For a moment there’s no sound, then a hand lands on her spine. Phainon’s fingers are gentle as they slide up, then the fabric of her shirt is being pulled over her head. She can feel Phainon hesitate, but—she’s not done.
First, Mydei unzips the front closure of her first, softer bra, and slides it off her arms. Then, she tilts her head to look over her shoulders. “I’m not going to be able to get this one either,” she says. Her tighter bra pulls over her head, hugs her chest tightly, and she knows that if she tries, she’ll just hurt herself more.
Phainon, on the other hand, is redder than Mydei’s ever seen her. Her eyes are fixed on Mydei’s back, flitting back and forth—over the tattoos, surely. “Staring isn’t going to remove it, HKS,” she grunts, and Phainon startles, hands flailing up. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“I-It’s,” Phainon says, her voice pitchy. Her hand returns to Mydei’s back, gentle , the tips of her nails scratching lightly just below the band of her bra.
“It’s the same, Deliverer, just get the band over my head so I can shower,” she huffs. Those gentle, unsteady fingers hook under the band of her bra and Mydei holds her forearm across her chest to keep the fabric in place. It feels like an age passes, then Phainon grabs the band and tugs upwards.
“Let me know if this hurts,” she says, and Mydei resolves to not do that in case it makes her shy away again—she is not cutting herself out of this bra, she likes it far too much. Thankfully, it doesn’t hurt—a few tugs and then Mydei’s ducking her chin and Phainon’s lifting, the bra popping free of her shoulders. One of her tits slip out of her grip as she turns and—she doesn’t care, but Phainon turns an even deeper shade of crimson. Her eyes drop from Mydei’s face, then flit away, then return to Mydei’s chest, then she’s making a strangled noise and turning away. Her blush has rendered the backs of her ears and neck pink, and Mydei can’t help herself, laughing low and quiet as she shakes her head.
“Alright?” She queries, just to see what Phainon will do. “You’re looking a little red.”
Phainon squeaks, then clears her throat, still facing away. “I-uh. I’m fine. I’m going to go… shower. Now.” She sucks in an audible breath, and then rushes away as Mydei drops her hands to her hips. She knows what she wants to think about this—about Phainon’s reaction, but… one more test. After she’s recovered, of course.
—
Fate, of course, has other plans.
Mydei gets a text from Cipher. It’s just a link, and a compressed one at that. Cipher knows better than to try and install prank malware on her phone again, so Mydei responds with a question mark, and only gets a thumbs up emoji in response. Sighing, she sits back at her desk, mutes her laptop, and clicks the link.
It’s a pornhub link.
Mydei scowls, about to crash her browser when the image loads and the reality of what she’s seeing hits her in the solar plexus. She fumbles, taps pause on the video that’s autoplaying, and stares blankly at her office wall.
It’s Phainon.
She’s alone, stretched out on her bed like she’s just woken up, and she’s wearing Mydei’s favourite workout shorts. The video’s titled Missing my Muscle Mommy and it’s got nearly three hundred thousand views. Posted a few days before—when Mydei had been stuck in meetings until late.
No force on this planet could prevent Mydei from pressing play.
At first, there was no sound through her headphones, and Phainon is just idly stroking her own arm. Within a minute, she’s rolled onto her back, tank top pushed up over one of her breasts, and soft, encouraging moans are filling Mydei’s ears. She slams her phone down on the desk, goes to check that her office door is locked, then returns to her chair, scooting it out from the desk a little. A tap starts the video again, and she stares, devours as Phainon fingers herself, plays with her tits. Then—Phainon’s voice, not just her pretty moans. “Please,” she says, and Mydei swallows hard. “Please My-ah-please mommy, I’m so close, please can I come?” Mydei is on fire, every nerve ending on alert. Her breath is hitching, fingers trembling on the phone. It’s not—she’s never been into that, not before now, but Titans does she want to hear Phainon say that in real life.
The press of her hand to her crotch is the only thing keeping her sane. She rubs in slow, steady rolls. This isn’t something she should be getting off to—it shouldn’t be something she’s watching. But, she’s pretty sure Phainon almost said her name and her cunt is throbbing.
When Phainon does come it’s with a fake moan and a very real jerk of her hips. Mydei can see the way her pussy clenches around her fingers, and her mouth is watering. Still, she taps the profile name—NeiKos496—and. There are at least sixty videos, some predating her moving in with Mydei. The earliest few are how she remembers Phainon in college, lanky and bright, big blue eyes batting at anyone and anything. Her content recently has taken a turn—more appearances of the word mommy, more of Phainon in her room. One of her on their shared sofa, towel laid down over the cushions. One is in their gym locker room, another, only a few minutes long, in the bathroom of the very building Mydei is sitting in. She clicks that one—Phainon’s voice is pitched low in her ears almost immediately. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she says, and Mydei sees her own shoes pacing away before the camera swings and Phainon heads for the bathroom. Minx, she’s been—Phainon’s quickly got her hands in her slacks, leaning against the door of the bathroom, and Mydei can’t help but follow suit, crawling her fingers under the fabric of her pants.
She comes in mere minutes to Phainon’s moans in her ears, throbbing around her own fingers. Titans, she has to do something about this.
—
Phainon shifts on the sofa. Then again, grumbling under her breath. She stretches to one side, then the other, and Mydei snaps. “Did you forget how to sit still, woman?” She grumbles, pausing the show they have running. “Don’t tell me—you overdid it at the gym yesterday and now you’re suffering for it, even though I told you to take it easy?”
Phainon has the grace to look sheepish, ears turning pink. “Of course not,” she says. “Maybe—ugh, fine.” Mydei doesn’t even have to press, the woman caves like she’s made of sand.
“I modified the exercises for you,” Mydei says as she turns, hooking one leg up on the sofa so she can see the other properly. Phainon’s hugging the plushie-Vigeroth to her chest, pouting at the TV. Mydei wishes she were the chimera. She pokes Phainon’s thigh with her toes instead. “It shouldn’t have caused an issue—did you forget how to lift because I wasn’t there?” She’d been caught in meetings later than usual,
Phai bristles, the feisty little shit. “I can lift with or without you there,” she says, affront leeching into her tone. Then she shifts again, and a soft huff of air escapes her. “I might have. Um. Un…..modified… it….” She trails off, and Mydei just stares at her until she squirms.
“Deliverer,” she says, and Phainon looks away. “What’s the difference in our PB?”
“Shut up.”
“Who runs circuits four times a week and who runs them once a week?”
“Shut up.”
Phainon hunches her shoulders, then winces and lowers them again, and Mydei sighs. This wasn’t how she’d planned to offer, but Phainon was the queen of giving her the strangest opportunities. “Deliverer,” she says, bowling over Phainon again as the woman tries to retort. “Do you want a massage?”
Phainon stares at her, mouth agape. “Huh?”
“Don’t make me ask again,” Mydei already regrets offering. “It was my gym plan, and I wasn’t there to stop you from being a danger to yourself. “
Phainon’s voice is pitchy, her eyes wide and dark. “Um. Here?”
“It would be easier if you were lying flat.” She raises an eyebrow as Phainon gets redder. “You touch me all the time, but the second it’s me offering you get all shy? This isn’t like you,” She teases, and Phainon splutters again as she jerks to her feet.
“You can’t just—say it like that,” Phainon huffs, patting her thighs like she’s checking her pockets. She turns, gets even pinker, and dumps the Chimera toy she’s been holding back on the sofa before saying, “My room or yours?”
Mydei’s eyebrows lift. She tilts her foot, knocking the stuffed animal off the sofa just to annoy Phainon. “Would you relax in mine?”
Phainon stops moving, blinking rapidly down at the floor like she’s processing the question. “Uh. Mine then,” she says as Mydei snorts. “Can I…. clean up a sec? It’s a mess.”
“You’re a mess,” she retorts, pulling out her phone and staying in place. “Yeah, tell me when you’re ready.” Phainon nods and speeds away like her ass is on fire, and Mydei rolls her eyes. She uses the time to make sure she’s targeting the right muscles, watching a couple of short videos on better massage technique—she’s good with her hands, but it’s never a bad idea to recheck—and when Phainon finally calls her name from the other side of the house Mydei stands. As she goes to pick up the fallen plushie she notices—a dark spot on the blanket Phainon had been sitting on. A slow realisation dawns over her, Mydei’s breath catching in her throat. If—if Phainon’s that wet… maybe she was squirming for a different reason.
No wonder she’d been so red. Titans, Mydei needs this woman on her back.
Swallowing hard, she drops past her room to grab a soft oil then knocks on Phainon’s door, pushing her way inside when she gets an almost hesitant answer. Phainon’s been busy—her usually messy bed has at least had the coverlet drawn back into place, and her window is cracked to let in a soft breeze. The usual floordrobe has been moved to a chair, and the Fig Stew plushie she stole from the sofa is wedged between the pillows of her double bed. The woman herself is sitting on the edge of her bed, eyes flitting around as she looks at everything but Mydei. “I… uh… don’t know how you want me?” Phainon says after Mydei lets the silence hang, and it snaps her back into motion.
“On your front—and take the shirt off, it’ll be easier,” she says as she approaches. As Phainon shuffles into the centre of the bed and turns, Mydei kneels on the edge. “I’m not looking,” she says, letting her gaze drop to her hands, and waits for the shuffle of fabric to stop before she looks again. Phainon’s sitting awkwardly, hands under her shoulders and arms tucked into her sides. She’s facing away, white hair curling at the nape of her neck. Despite complaining about her skin, her back looks soft, supple, and as Phainon breathes the muscles shift and shiver. Titans, Mydei wants to drag her hands over the breadth of it, tuck into her tiny waist and bury her nose in her fluffy hair. The urge hits her hard, deep in the belly, and Mydei has to pause and breathe to resist. “Where does it hurt most?” She asks when her mouth doesn’t feel quite as dry. She moves closer until her knees brush Phainon’s sides, and there’s a tingle in her hands, in her palms. It feels like they’re on the precipice of something, and she so badly wants to tip them over.
“Lats and, uh. Traps I guess,” Phainon says as if that isn’t half her back. Mydei reaches out, touches the middle of her back then drags her fingers up to the base of her neck. She’s so, so soft under Mydei’s calloused fingers. “So, all of this?”
Phainon shivers. “Are you frowning at me? It feels like you’re frowning at me.” Bluster, that’s all this is.
“You’d find out if you weren’t hiding.” Before Phainon can retort, Mydei’s lifting her hips, swinging a leg over Phainon’s back. “Don’t mind me,” she adds, resting her weight on the plush curve of Phainon’s ass as the woman under her gives a pathetic, flustered squeak. “It’s easier to reach this way.”
“I don’t believe you,” Phainon gets out after a delay, but her voice is… softer. Like she doesn’t actually want to protest. Good.
Mydei’s not an asshole—or at least, not that much of an asshole—so she pours a little bit of the oil into her palm and warms it up while she tucks the bottle aside. Then she lathers her palms, and rests them on the backs of Phainon’s shoulders. “Tell me if anything hurts too much.”
For a long moment, Phainon is tense under her palms. “Breathe,” she says, pressing her fingers into the base of Phainon’s neck. As she drags her thumbs down Phainon’s spine she feels, more than hears, Phainon’s breath hitch. Then she lets out a breathy sigh and sags into the mattress. As Mydei settles properly into rubbing her back, Phainon makes a soft, pleased sound, one that kicks Mydei right in the belly. As she rolls her hands lower, right into the dip in her back, Phainon moans quietly and Mydei is very suddenly struck by how bad an idea this is.
Somehow she steels herself, controlling her breathing, and keps working the muscles Phainon pointed out, little by little pulling tension from her body. She strokes up Phainon’s smooth back, presses into the back of Phai’s neck, bites her lip as the other woman shudders under her. Her hands move on autopilot, down to Phainon’s shoulders, along her arms, her gaze flicking up to Phainon’s face. Her lashes are fluttering, lips bitten pink, flush high on her cheeks. She looks like she’s being fucked and titans how Mydei wants it to be real. Her hands find Phainon’s waist. She leans her body weight into the grip and settles her hips lower, sliding back to Phainon’s thighs. The skin of her inner thighs catches on Phainon’s shorts, drag them a little lower, revealing the top curve of her ass—and no panty line in sight. Mydei feels like a dog in heat, breath catching as her hands slide lower still.
Phainon—her legs part, only for Mydei to nudge them closed again with her heels. Her ass lifts as Mydei presses down, and when Phainon lets out another of those soft little whines, Mydei can’t hold back her answering hum. Her hands drift to the base of Phainon’s back, thumbs rubbing into the little divot at the bottom of her spine. She presses, sliding her thumbs back up, and Phainon shudders again, lips parting. There’s little strings of spit on her lips, and—titans. Her hands drag back down, then rest on Phainon’s hips, thumbs gliding along the waistband of her shorts.
“You—you can,” Phainon says, and she sounds wrecked already. “If you want.”
Mydei swallows. Hard. “Do you want?” She asks, and her voice is scratchy. “I’m not doing something to you, Phainon.”
Phainon’s name is heavy on her tongue. She doesn’t use it much, uses it deliberately now. The woman in question opens one eye, stares up at her with dark eyes—the blue nearly fully eaten by her pupil. “Say it again.”
Mydei knows what she means. “Phainon.” Phai’s breath hitches. She lowers her voice. “Phainon. You have to want it to.”
That eye closes for a moment, and Phainon breathes in, so deep it shifts Mydei’s hands on her. It’s let out in a gust. “I want it. Want you.”
The thought of it rolls through Mydei and she lets it for a breath, two. She’s not sure anyone could want anything as much as she wants the woman under her, but Phainon sounds like she does, breathless and wanting while her back relaxes under Mydei’s palms. “Okay,” she says, rumbles low, “Alright.” She smiles and it’s toothy, she can feel it. “You know—I found your channel.”
Phainon squirms as her hands slide down, fingers catching under her shorts—then she stills under Mydei’s hands and twists to look up at her. Her eyes are wide, the flush that’s covering her face is deeper, spreading faster than it had before. “You—what?”
“Mmh, sit still,” Mydei leans into her grip, pins Phainon back to the bed, then leans forward to brush her lips against Phainon’s burning ear. “You’re so hot when you beg for mommy, though I couldn’t help but notice… you almost said something else first, didn’t you?”
Phainon shudders under her, hips lifting and pressing back. “Nuh uh,” she gasps out, breathless, and Mydei grins wider. She nips at Phainon’s earlobe, canine teeth digging in enough to have Phainon squirming all over again.
“I’ll just have to get a confession out of you another way,” Mydei says before she sits up again. She tugs her fingers into the waistband of Phainon’s tiny shorts, tugs them down under her pert ass and leaves them there.
She’s not wearing anything underneath, and when she lifts her hips a little higher, her cheeks part to show off what Mydei’s there for.
Mydei has to bite back a sound, lightning singing through her veins as she confirms that Phainon’s not been squirming from muscle fatigue. A deep maroon toy parts her labia, curving down in a way that must be resting against her clit. It’s not vibrating, though there’s a subtle button on the front of it—it’s just resting there, holding her open, and as Mydei stares, a little dribble of slick slides along the length of the toy, beading and dripping slowly onto the sheets below. “You—minx,” Mydei says, scratchy as Phainon wiggles her hips. She tucks one finger between the toy and Phainon’s body, trying not to think about how wet the silicone is, and tugs it back, pulling it until Phainon’s spread nice and wide over the thickest point. She presses it back in and the woman under her squeaks out a sound, her whole body shifting as her knees try to lift up and fail, bumping into Mydei’s calves. “No, you’re staying where you are,” Mydei breathes, working the toy in and out of Phainon slowly. “Do you do this often? Wear something like this while we’re out on the sofa together, getting off while I’m none the wiser? “ Phainon’s nodding into the pillow when Mydei looks up, lips parting wetly.
“Y-yeah. All the time,” she says, one hand finally dropping from her side to curl around Mydei’s wrist. Her nails dig into skin, drag as her hand slides higher. “W-when I’m waiting for a s-shower too,” she breathes, confirming what Mydei had already suspected. “Thinking about…you,” she adds, and Mydei’s patience wears thin. She yanks the toy free, dropping it in the bedsheets somewhere, and drives a finger inside Phainon in it’s place.
She’s soft inside, wickedly hot, and so, so wet that it drips over Mydei’s knuckles now that the toy isn’t blocking the way. She presses it in, grinds deeper as she searches, feels all of Phainon clench and shiver all at once. “There you are,” she murmurs. “I’ve caught you doing it, you know. You’ve left wet spots behind you, even left some of this on me in your rush to get in the shower.” She grins, slips a second finger alongside the first as Phainon’s whole body trembles. “Now I know you were thinking about me… I should have chased after you, really given you something to drip about.” Her free hand finds the curve of Phainon’s ass, squeezes one cheek, then tugs to spread her wider. Her fingers splay too, holding Phainon open as more slick drips from her. “All this for me, hmm?”
Phainon twists, and for a second she looks like she’s about to speak—but her motion exposes one of her tits to Mydei’s hungry gaze and she leans forward to pull that pert nipple into her mouth, and Phainon’s words turn into a jumbled moan instead. Her skin tastes so sweet—salty and musky even after her shower just from the heat, and Mydei can fit half of her tit in her mouth, tongue rolling over the hardening bud. She could spend hours here easily, she reckons—lathering Phainon’s chest with bites and hickeys, tasting every inch of her. But, she nips as Phainon’s fingers curl into her hair, grumbles when Phainon yanks her head back.”Let me roll over,” she gasps, and Mydei wants to, but that would involve removing her fingers from Phainon’s soft cunt and nothing could make her do that.
So she pulls back, presses a third finger into Phainon, and starts to slide down Phainon’s long legs. The other woman tugs at her hair at first, then she must realise what Mydei’s planning and lets her without any further protests. Mydei’s tits press against the back of Phainon’s thighs and she bites, worries a mark into the top of her asscheek. Then she’s chasing the length of her own fingers with her tongue until she’s pressing that inside of Phainon too, moaning at the taste of her.
She curls her fingers, shoves her tongue in deeper, and Phainon’s thighs shake under her. “Mydei—” she gasps, moans, her whole body twisting as her muscles flutter around the digits inside her. Mydei doesn’t need to ask, keeps working her fingers, keeps lapping at Phainon’s cunt until she’s sobbing, then pushes her through it as Phainon’s toes curl against her thighs from the oversensitivity. None of it stops her—no, Mydei drags her tongue lower, tracing the soft edges of her labia, tilting her head and lifting her hand up to roll it against her clit. She smells of musk and the fruity bath soap she uses, and Mydei can feel her thighs clenching and unclenching below her.
Mydei pulls one finger out and spreads the other two, lapping her tongue between them before pressing in close. She can’t get it as deep as her fingers but she rolls it against Phainon’s walls anyway, watching the arch and sway of Phainon’s back with each rock of her tongue. She curls her fingers again, rubs them, laughs into Phainon’s cunt as she spills slick into Mydei’s mouth.
“Good girl,” she rumbles as she pulls back, licking slick from her lips and leaving smears of it behind on her chin. She pulls back, shoves Phainon’s legs apart and settles between them before, regrettably, pulling her fingers free of her heat. She immediately grabs Phainon’s hips and lifts her, turning her and dumping her back into the blankets as Phainon lets out a startled squawk. Then she’s yanking Phainon’s shorts the rest of the way off, tossing them across the room before leaning over Phainon again.
Phainon’s pretty blue eyes have all but dissolved into black, dazed and dreamy as she stares up at Mydei. “Holy shit,” she gets out, and Mydei laughs again, louder this time. “Take your shirt off.”
Mydei raises an eyebrow. “Tryin’ to order me around?” she asks, and Phainon’s hands tug weakly at her tank top, pulling it up her stomach.
“Please?” Phainon blinks once, twice, pouting her bitten-red lips, and Mydei wishes she knew how to say no to her. Instead, she pulls off her shirt, tosses her bra after it, snorts when Phainon immediately grabs at her tits. They overflow from Phainon’s palms but that doesn’t stop her, squeezing as her lipa part in surprise. “Soft,” she murmurs, “Softer than I thought.” Her thumb drags over Mydei’s nipple and it pebbles immediately, sending a soft spark through Mydei. “Didn’t think your tattoos would be here too.” She traces a finger along the swirls of red, the sharp lines ending just short of her areola. Then she’s dragging one hand down Mydei’s side, chasing the marks, pressing one finger against the one along the top line of her pants. When she tugs at the fabric, nudges it lower, Mydei decides it’s time for a distraction.
So, she leans forward and drags her slick lips over Phainon’s pout. It has Phainon’s breath catching, a soft sound escaping into Mydei’s mouth, then she’s licking at Mydei’s lips, kissing her like she’s the last dregs of water in a barren world. She pulls Mydei down until they’re pressed together, and Mydei has to brace on one hand to not crush the other woman. She shoves the other between them, rolling the pads of her fingers back over Phainon’s sensitive clit, and Phainon’s legs hitch up over her thighs as she moans into Mydei’s mouth.
She rolls her tongue against Phainon’s while she mimics the movement with her fingers, and Phai flutters a hand against her back. “Mydei,” she gasps into her mouth, “Mydeimos.”
“Full-naming me won’t make me move faster,” she rumbles as she pulls back, pressing a line of wet kisses down Phainon’s throat. She leaves mark after mark around the edges of the sun tattoo, high enough that Phainon is going to have to wear a high-necked shirt to protect what modesty she has left. Her teeth find skin, bite in before she laves her tongue over the spot, leaving a trail of bruises as she goes. Her lips find Phainon’s collarbone, licking at the jut of it, chasing the thrum of her pulse, before tugging one dusky pink nipple with her teeth. Hands dig into her hair, tugging at the strands, sending lightning across her scalp.
“Mydei,” another gasp, then a sharp moan when Mydei sucks, pinching her clit between two fingers at the same time. Her thighs clamp around Mydei’s hips, back arching up until her hips lift off the bed. Strong, she’s so strong. Mydei nuzzles her lips against the nipple she’s been abusing, drags her mouth to the other side as Phainon digs nails into her scalp, her shoulders, dragging up and over the tattooed lines in her skin.
Mydei only relents when she realises that Phainon won’t stop her, that she could spend hours buried there. She leaves wet marks down Phainon’s belly, over the divot of each abdominal, digs her teeth into the fatty little jut of her hip as she slips further down. Phainon’s legs part wider, around her shoulders, then Mydei’s staring at her prize again and letting out a low, pleased moan at the thought. Phainon’s groomed, white hair neat but soaked with juices, and her pussy is red and leaking around Mydei’s fingers. She has a mole on the inside of her left thigh and Mydei sinks her teeth into it, leaving a bite surrounding it before spreading Phai’s cunt with her fingers. “So pretty for me,” she can’t help but say, licking her lips. “How many times have you imagined me right here, looking at you?”
“Usually imagine you doing something more than looking,” is the retort, strong fingers curling into her hair and tugging. Mydei resists at first, then lets herself be led forward, licking from the base of her lips right to the top edge of her clit. She does it again, harder this time, and Phainon’s thighs tighten around her head. Within a few scant minutes Phainon is shivering, hips tilting up into the steady, wide licks of Mydei’s tongue. Only when Phainon’s hands stop tugging does Mydei dig a little deeper, rubbing the flat of her tongue over Phainon’s flushed clit, tracing the tip of it around her opening. Mydei learns Phainon’s body with steady, consistent strokes of her tongue until—she pauses to suck on Phainon’s clit.
It makes the woman under her yelp, jerking at the sudden stimulation. She tenses, relaxes, hisses Mydei’s name in frustration only for Mydei to do it again, and again, before settling in to eat her out properly. Her tongue curls into Phainon, drinking her right from the source, traces the letters of her own name against Phai’s clit before spelling out words in her own mother tongue, words Phainon would never dream of understanding even in her right mind. She’s absolutely not in that mind now, hips rolling up into Mydei’s mouth in insistent little pulses, one heel digging into Mydei’s spine.
Phainon gives an overdramatic moan, and Mydei lifts her head, huffing out an amused breath as her hand pins Phainon’s hips back down when they chase her. “You’re used to faking it, I know,” Mydei says, purrs, licking her lips. “Unlike your fans, I can feel it when—” She digs two fingers into Phainon, flexing them. The moan Phainon bites out is real, choked. “—You clench all pretty on my fingers and tongue. Every time you fake it is another day you have to wait til I get my strap out. That’s your warning.”
Phainon gapes down at her, eyes dark, drool gathering at the corners of her lips. She stutters, but nothing comes out, so Mydei flexes her fingers, tapping them against her g-spot to make her tremble. “It’s a habit, sorry,” Phainon eventually bites out, head hitting the pillow again. The next moan is unabashed, but real.
“Thinking of me doesn’t get you off every time? Hmm, I’ll have to work harder then,” Mydei teases, before biting her thigh and digging her fingers in. She grinds the heel of her hand up over Phainon’s clit and Phainon’s shocked puff of air as she comes is music to Mydei.
Mydei licks her lips as she contemplates the wrecked Phainon under her. Her eyes are red-rimmed, legs trying to close around Mydei’s head, and her clit looks red, sore. An idea strikes her, and Mydei fumbles a hand in the sheets by her shoulder as Phainon heaves out a breath above her. “One more,” Mydei says, peering up Phainon’s body, watching her tits bounce with every breath. “You can give me one more, can’t you?”
Phainon looks down at her like she wants to say no, but Mydei’s words have stoked the fire of competition in her belly. “I can keep going,” she gets out, though her thighs stay tight around Mydei’s head.
“I’ll be nice.” Mydei finds what she’s looking for, taps the toy she’d pulled out of Phainon earlier—aeons ago—against Phainon’s still-quivering belly. She then lowers it, rubs it over Phainon’s wet pussy, covers it in her juices again. “I won’t touch your clit, but you can come like this, right?”
It’s a challenge she knows Phainon won’t be able to ignore—she doesn’t, nodding her head before Mydei’s even finished speaking. “I can,” she says, squeaking pathetically when Mydei pushes the toy inside her. She’s slow, methodical, twisting it as she presses it in. A shift of her grip then she’s pressing the toy deeper, flattening her other palm on Phainon’s belly. A little bit of pressure there has Phainon’s thighs shaking, then Mydei grinds the toy upwards, dragging it until—
Phainon’s moan is low, loud, and just as real as the last. Keeping it in the same place, Mydei finds the discreet button, and clicks the toy on.
Two hands end up buried in her hair, yanking tight. Phainon’s whole body lifts from the bed a little, eyes wide, shocked. She doesn’t come, not yet, but she stutters an attempt at Mydei’s name that turns into jangled syllables when Mydei rubs the toy in slow, easy circles, pressing down a little harder with the other hand. “There?” She says like she’s not seeing Phainon’s reaction, like she can’t feel the drip of her own slick dampening her thighs. “Mmh, you can do it like this, I know you can. Good girl, Phainon.”
The rapid pants of breath above her pause, then start again, staccato. They pause again, and Mydei realises she’s close already. “Breathe,” she commands, tapping the button to kick the vibrator up a notch. Tension rocks through Phainon, her toes curling against Mydei’s spine. Then she’s trembling, crying out as she drips slick over Mydei’s hand, muscles jumping under her palm. “There you go,” Mydei immediately lowers the pressure a little, petting her belly as she rocks the toy in and out in short, sharp motions. “That’s it, I knew you could do it.”
Phainon sags in her grip as she settles, tits heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Mydei sets the toy aside, kisses the top of Phainon’s cunt, and slides herself up the length of her body to kiss her.
The kiss is languid, slow. Phainon’s trying, but it’s clear she’s not entirely there, still trembling when Mydei pets her hands down the length of her body. Still, she grabs at Mydei’s waist, tugs—she’s still strong, still takes Mydei by surprise as she’s dragged on top of Phainon.
“You too,” Phainon mumbles against her lips. “Wanna see you.”
A huff of breath escapes Mydei, almost a laugh. She shifts her legs, shoves her loose pants down her legs and kicks them off. Straddling Phainon’s waist again, Phainon’s belly is warm against her core. Phainon grabs a pillow, fumbles it under her head, stares up at Mydei with something a hell of a lot more than lust in her eyes. “Please?” Phainon asks, and Mydei lets out a slow breath.
The first grind against Phainon’s belly has her humming, pleased, warm. It won’t take long, she thinks, not after having Phainon like that. She can feel each soft ridge of Phainon's abs, plants a hand between Phainon’s tits to keep herself steady as she drops the other to rub at her clit. a hand bats hers away, Phainon clearly wanting to be more involved—her nail catches on Mydei’s hair but her fingers are soft, wet, and just the right amount of pressure.
It creeps up slowly, rolls through her. One minute she’s grinding, staring down at Phainon’s lust-drunk gaze, the next she’s shivering through an orgasm as her breath catches, hand tight on Phainon’s wrist. She yanks Phainon’s hand away, huffs out an unsteady breath, lets the aftershocks roll through her in slow waves.
Tipping forward, Mydei barely manages to catch herself, sliding sideways to rest on her shoulder. One leg is still splayed over Phainon’s waist, and there’s slick on her belly, but Mydei pulls her into a kiss instead of cleaning up. “We’re sleeping in my bed,” She mumbles into Phainon’s mouth. “You made a mess.”
“You made the mess,” Phainon retorts, bites her lower lip hard enough that Mydei bites back. “You can carry me. Legs don’t work.” Mydei laughs at that, and drags her back in for another kiss.